Srom  f^e  feifirarp  of 
(pxofcBBot  ^imam  (tttifPer  (paxion,  ©.©.,  fe£.®. 

fo  f 3c  &i6rarp  ot 
.  (Princeton  C^eofo^caf  ^eminarj 


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V 


MAR  181912 


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PRACTICAL  AND  PAROCHIAL 


SERMONS. 


1/ 

THE.  REV.  CHARLES  BRADLEY, 

WCAB   OF   GLASSEURY,   BRECKNOCKSHIRE  *,  AND   MINISTER   OF   ST.   JAMEs's   CHAPEL, 
CLAPHAM,  SURREY. 


»OUE   VOLXmES   OF   THE   ENGLISH   EDITION   COMPLETE   IN   ONE. 


NEW-YORK: 
D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  200  BROADWAY 

1852. 


DEDICATION. 


TO  THE  HONORABLE  AND  RIGHT  REV 

HENRYRYDER,    D.  D. 

LORD  BISHOP  OF  LICHFIELD  AND  COVENTRY. 

My  Lcrd, 

If  these  Sermons  strictly  corresponded  with  the  title  prefixed  to  them,  i  should 
present  them  to  your  Lordship  with  but  little  diffidence.  They  might  still  be  without 
any  recommendations  to  general  favor  and  attention,  but  their  character  would  secure 
for  them  your  approbation. 

Appointed  the  minister  of  a  country  parish,  it  has  been  my  wish,  as  well  aj  my  duty, 
to  break  though  trains  of  thought  and  modes  of  expression,  which  a  long  residence  in  a 
somewhat  different  situation  had  made  familiar  to  me,  and  to  adapt  my  language  and 
ideas  to  the  congregation  of  a  village  church.  If  I  have  not  succeeded  in  attaining 
these  objects,  my  failure  has  not  been  the  result  of  indifference,  or  oY  a  shrinking  from 
effort.  I  have  not  delivered  to  my  parishioners  sermons  which  have  cost  me  nothing ; 
nor  am  I  conscious  of  having  had  any  other  end  in  view  in  the  composition  of  them, 
than  that  of  expressing  the  weighty  truths  they  contain,  with  plainness  and  force. 

My  anxiety  on  this  point  may  have  been  excessive.  It  may  still  be  derogatory  to  the 
greatness  of  Him,  without  whom  simplicity  is  as  powerless  as  the  most  adorned  rhetoric, 
and  who  can  make  even  this  humble  volume  an  instrument  of  unspeakable  blessedness 
to  the  least  cultivated  reader  into  whose  hands  he  may  suffer  it  to  fall. 

IL^  appearance  before  the  public  in  connection  with  your  name,  would  have  been  to 
me,  under  any  circumstances,  a  source  of  no  ordinary  pleasure,  but  I  must  now  attach 
to  this  distinction  a  peculiar  value,  since  it  affords  me  an  opportunity  of  openly  acknow- 
ledging the  kindness,  which  has  placed  me  in  the  number  of  those  who  are  indebted  for 
the  stations  they  hold  in  the  church,  to  your  Lordship's  unsolicited  patronage. 

I  am,  my  Lord, 
Your  most  obliged  and  obedient  Servant, 

CHARLES  BRADLEY. 


CONTENTS 


SERMON  I. 
The  First  Sunday  in  Advent. 

THE    DEPARTING    NIGHT  AND  COMING  DAY. 


ItoMANS  xiii.    12.— Tlie  niglit  is  far  spent,  the  day 

bel  us  tl '<  rcfor.;  cast  olV  the  works  ol  darkness,  and  let  us  put 
on  Uit  armor  of  light 


I  at  hand 

u 

Fase    5 


SERMO.N  II 
The  Second  Sunday  in  Adcent. 

CHRIST  PROCLAI.MING  HIS  API'ROACIU.N'G  ADVENT. 
Revelation  xxh.  2(1.— He  which  testilicth  these  things,  eaith, 
Surely    I  come  quickly.     Amen  ;  even  so ; 


tinngs,  eaitn 
le,  Lord  Je 


SERMON  III. 
The  Third  Sunday  in  Advent. 

THE  LORD  CO.MINU  TO  HIS  TEMPLE. 

kULAcm  iii  1.— Behold,  I  will  send  my  Messenger,  and  he 
shall  prepare  the  way  helorc  me  ;  and  the  Lord  whom  ye  seek, 
shall  suddenly  come  to  Ins  temple,  even  the  Messenger  of  the 
covenant  wl  uni  ye  deliglit  ui.  Betiold,  he  shall  come,  saitli 
Uic  Lord 'of  hosts ^^ 

SERMON   IV. 

The  Fourth  Sunday  in  Advent. 

CHRIST    A    REKL'GE. 

Uauh  xx.\ii.  2.— A  Man  sliall  be  as  an  hiding  place  from  the 

wind,  and  a  covert  from  the  tempest 19 

SERMON   V. 
Christmas  Day. 

CHRIST'S  HUMAN  BODV  THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 
tJT.  JoUN  U.  21.— He  spake  of  the  temple  of  his  body.     .     24 

SERMON  VI. 
The  Sunday  after  Christmas. 

CHRIST   A    SAVIOUR. 

St.  Matthew  i.  21. --Thou  shalt  call  I 
shall  save  his  people  Irom  their  sins. 

SERMON  Vll. 
The  First  Sunday  in  the  Year. 

THE    MORROW    UNKNOWN. 
.St.  James  iv.  14.— Ye  know  not  what  shall  be  on  the  mor- 


SERMON  VIII. 
The  Epiphany. 

THE  BARREN  FIG-TREE. 
!t.  Lcke  xiii.  7,  8.— Then  said  he  unto  the  dresser  of  his  vine- 
yard, Behold,  these  three  years  I  come  seeking  Iruit  on  this 
He  tree,  and  find  none;  cut  it  down  ;  why  •■nnihereth  it  the 
ground  !  And  he  answering,  said  unto  hini,  ]..ord.  .ct  it  alone 
this  year  also * 

SERMON  IX 
The  First  Sunday  after  the  Epiphany. 

CHRIST    THE    DESIRE    AND    GLORY    OF    HIS    CHURCH. 


SERMON  X. 
The  Second  Sunday  after  the  Epiphany 

CHRIST    STANDING    AT    THE    DOOR. 

Revelation  iii.  20.— Beliold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock. 
If  any  man  hear  my  voice,  and  open  tlie  door,  I  will  come  it 
to  him,  and  will  sup  with  liini,  and  he  with  inc.       .         .     47 

SERMON  XI. 
The  Third  Sunday  after  the  Epiphany. 

THE    PRINCE    OF    PEACE. 
Isaiah  ix.  6 —The  Prince  of  peace.  .....    53 

SERMON  XII. 
The  Fourth  Sunday  after  the  Epiphany. 

THE    LAST    JUDG.MENT. 


Rkvel.\tion  XX.  11, 

that  .sat  on  it,  Irom  __  ,  ..        , 

away,   and  there  was    found    no  place  lor  thern. 


2.-1  saw  a  great  white  throne,  and  him 
the  eartli  and  the  heaven  fled 

saw 'Uie'deadrsmairaiiii  "great,  stand  before  God ;  and  the 
books  were  opened,  and  another  book  was  opened,  which 
is  the  book  of  life;  and  the  dead  were  judged  out  of  tnose 
things  which  were  written  in  the  books,  according  to  their 
works »' 

SERMON  XIII. 

The  Fifth  Sunday  after  the  Epiphany. 

THE    TARES    AND    THE    WHEAT. 

St.  Matthew  xiii.  30.— Let  both  grow  together  until  the  har 

vest;  and   in  the  time  of  harvest  I    will   siiy  to  tlie  riapers. 

Gatlier  ye  together  lirst  the  tares  and  bind  them  in  bundles  to 

burn  tliem,  but  gather  the  wheat  into  my  barn.        .        .    oa 

SERMON  XIV. 
The  Sixth  Sunday  after  the  Epiphany. 

CHRIST    A    DESTROYER. 

I  John  iii.  8.— For  this  purpose  the  Son  of  God  was  manifec^ 
ed,  that  he  might  destroy  the  works  of  the  devil.      .         .     66 

SERMON  XV. 
Septiiagcsima  Sunday. 

THE    ANGELS    REJOICING     AT    THE    CREATION    OF   THB 
WORLD. 

Job  xxxviii.  7. — The  morning  stars  sang  together,  and  all  the 
SODS  of  God  shouted  for  joy. "0 

SERMON   XVI. 
Sexagesima  Sunday. 

THE    FAITH    OF    NOAH. 


Hebrews  xi.  /.—By  faith 
things  not  seen  as  yet,  m< 
the  saving  of  his  house.    . 


Noah,  being  warned  of  God  ol 
.ved  witli  fear,  prepared  on  ark  to 


IIaooai  ii.  6,  7 —Thus  saith  the  Lord  of  liosts.  Yet  once, 
a  little  while,  and    I   will  shake  the  heavens,  and  the  e 
and  the  sea.  and   tie  dry  hind,  and  I  will  shake  all  nnt       . 
and  the  Uesirc  nf  all  notions   shall  come,  and  1  will  hll  this 
b^se  Willi  gloiy,  saith  the  Liird  ol  hosts.        .  ■    ■" 


SERMON   XVU. 
Quinquagesima  Sunday. 

HAGAR    IN    THE    WILDERNESS. 

Genesis  xxi.  I'J.— And   God  opened  her  eyes,  and   she  saw  » 

well  of  water *' 

SERMON  XVIII. 
Ash-  Wednesday. 

THE    PRAYER    OF    CONTRITE    ISRAKI.. 

Jeremiah  xiv.  7.— O  Ixird,  th< 
us,  do  thou  it  for  ihy  name's 


CONTENTS. 


SERMON  XIX. 
The  First  Sunday  in  Lent. 

CHRIST    TEMPTED    IN    THE    WILDERNESS. 

8t.    Mattiikw  iv.  1.— Tiien  \va«  Jesua  led  up  of  tlie  SpirH 

ijilo  Uiti  wdiltnicss  to  be  tiiiipted  of  llie  devil.         .         .     "J 

SERMON  XX. 
T/ie  Second  Sunday  in  Lent. 

THE    SIN    OF    ISAAC    AND    HIS    FAMILY. 


SERMON  XXI. 
The  Third  Sunday  in  Lent. 

JACOB    AT    BETHEL. 

Genk.ois  x.wiii.  Ifi.  17.— And  Jacob  awaked  out  of  his  sleep, 
and  lie  ►aid.  Sun  ly  Hie  Lord  is  in  tins  jilaee,  am  I  knew  it 
not.  And  lie  was  nl'raid,  and  said.  How  dreadlul  i..*  thfs 
place  i  'J'liis  is  none  other  but  the  house  ol  C>od,  and  Ini.s  is 
Ihe  gale  of  iieuven. •^° 

SERMON  XXII. 
The  Fourth  Sunday  in  Lent. 

JACOB    RETURNING    TO    BETHEU 
GiSE^iRxxxv.  1,2,  3.— A.i.l    i."l   ...n;  u   ..,  .Ivm!.,    .\rise,  go 
111.  c.  15.  tl;el,  and  dwell  tliM  '       ',  '   '!'■"■  un><> 

G...1.  Hal  appeared  unto  r  i    ''  '    imm   the 

I'u.-.- .if  Esau  my  brother       I  .!         '         !    i:  '  ,  i,is  lioiise- 

h.il.i.  Mild  to  all  that  wen    u.        i     i      I''  i»    !    i    strange 

g.„lMli..lnrc»n,»,.f:yon,::^  -    '       -    ,    '''''^S": 

rieiils:  and  let  us  arise  ai,.l     ..  i  .    '      ,  ,    .     I  \.  ill  ni.iki. 

U.ere  an  alinr  urilo  God.  u ■    ''>"'",'/, 

distress,  luid  was  with   iiii'  n;  i    •    ■'•    >  '•'■  '  '  !'    '  "■ '  "■•     •       1"J 

PF.UMON  XXIII. 
The  Fifth  Sunday  in  Lent. 

WEANEDNESS   OF    SOUL. 

PsAi.M  cxxxi.  2.— Surely  I  have  behaved  and  nnictcd  myself,  as 

a  cliild  ihat  is  weaned  of  his  mother ;  my  soul  is  even  as  a 

weaned  child 108 

SERMON  XXIV. 
The  Sunday  next  be/ore  Faster. 

8INNF.RS    MOURNING     FOR    THEIR    PIERCJiD    LORD. 

ZKriiARlAii  xii.  1(1— They  shall  look  upon  me  whom  thry 
have  puciid,  inul  thiy  si. nil  mourn  for  l^im,  as  one  mourneth 
fur  ills  on'y  s.m;  aii.l  shall  lie  in  bitterness  for  him,  lis  one 
that  is  in  billerness  lor  his  lirsl-born 113 

SERMON  XXV. 
Good  Friday. 

THE    PERFECTION    OF    CHRISt'b    ATONEMENT. 

U«BRrw.->  X  12,  13,  U.— But  this  Man,  afn-r  he  had  offered 
one  pii.rilice  for  sins,  forever  sat  down  on  the  ri!,'lit  hand  ot 
(iod,  fri.ni  hencelorth  expecliiip  till  his  eniMuies  he  iiiiide 
fo>it-io.il;  f.ir  by  one  oH'erini;  lie  liatli  perfected  forever  them 
that  are  Baiiclilied. 117 

sr.RMON  XXVI. 
Faster  Sunday. 

THE  RESIRKECriON'  OK  CHRIST  GLAD  TIDINCiS. 
AcTii  xiji  32,  33.  31  —We  declare  unto  you  iilad  liilines,  how 
thai  the  proiiHsi'  wl  i.li  was  iiiiide  unto  the  liithers,  (;>»l  I'lilli 
fullilh'.l  theMiiiK  union,,  tl  eir  ehildien.  intliiit  he  hath  rai>ed 
up  .IcfiiH  at'iini;  as  it  is  aVowrilli  n  in  the  seeonil  iisalni,  Thou 
Bit  my  soil.  III-  liny  have  I  lieKollin  line.  Ami  as  coneern- 
nil  liuiii  tl  e  dead,  now  no  more  to 
I  will   give  you 


SKIiMo.N  XXVIl. 
The  First  Sunday  after  Faster. 

THE    KISEN    JEWS  Ari'EARING    TO    MAUV    MAGDALENE, 

Pt.  John  XX.   If..— J>,n,.   sailh  iitiIo    hrr,   Mary.     She  turned 

l.u.elf  and  saith  nnlo  liini,  Kahboiii.  .  .  .      I2»l 


SERMON  XXVin. 
The  Second  Sunday  after  Easter. 

THE  MUTUAL  KNOWLEDGE  OF  CHRIST   AND  HIS  SHEEf 

St.  John   x.   14. — I  am   the  good   Shepherd,   and  know  m* 

sheep,  and  am  known  of  mine.  ....     130 

SERMON  XXIX. 
The  Third  Sunday  after  Easier. 

THE  DIVINE  CO.MMANDMENTS  SOURCES  OF  PEACE, 

Isaiah  xlviii.  18.— O  that  thou  hadst  hearkened  to  my  com- 
mandments I  tiion  had  thy  peace  been  as  a  rivjr,  and  tlij 
righteou.^ness  as  the  waves  of  the  sea.  .         .         .     l.'H 

SERMON  XXX. 
The  Fourth  Sunday  after  Easter. 

CHRIST    THE    HOPE    OF    GLORY. 
CoLossiANs  i.  27.— Christ  in  you,  the  hope  of  glory.      .     140 

SERMON  XXXI. 
The   Fifth   Sunday  after  Easter. 

THE    BLIND    LED. 

Isaiah  .xlii.  16.— I  will  bring  the  blind  by  a  way  that  they 
knew  not:  I  will  lead  them  in  paths  that  they  have  not 
known.  I  will  make  darkness  light  before  them,  and  crook- 
ed things  straight  Tliese  things  will  I  do  unto  them,  and 
not  forsake  them.  H!t 

SERMON  XXXII. 
The  Sunday  after  Ascension  Day. 

CHRIST    SITTING    AT    THE    RIGHT    HAND     OF    GOD. 

I'sAi.M  ex.  1,  2,  3. — The  T,ord  said  unto  my  Lord,  Sit  thou  at 
my  right  hand  until  I  make  thine  enemies  thy  font.sfool.  The 
Lord  shall  send  the  rod  of  thy  strength  out  of  Zinn :  rule 
tliou  in  the  mid^t  of  thine  enemies.  Thy  people  shall  bo 
willing  in  the  day  »f  thy  power,  in  the  beauties  of  holines.^; 
from  the  womb  of  the  morning  thou  hast  the  dew  of  thy 
youth 15(1 

SERMON  XXXm. 
Whit  Sunday. 

THE    PRO.MISED    COMFORTER. 

St.  John  xiv.  Hi,  17.— I  will  pray  the  Father,  and  lie  shall  givs 
you  another  Comliiit.r,  that  he  may  abiih-  with  you  forever 
even  tlie  Spirit  of  Iriilii,  whom  the  world  riiiino-  receive,  be- 
cause it  seeth  him  not,  neither  knoweth  him  ;  but  ye  kno\» 
him,  for  he  dwclktli  with  you  and  shall  be  in  you.         .      155 

SERMON  XXXIV. 
Trinity  Sunday. 

CHRIST  THE  LIGHT  OF    HEAVEN. 

Revelation  xxi.  23. — The  city  had  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither 
of  the  moon,  to  shine  in  it ;  for  the  glory  of  God  did  lighten 
it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof.  .         .         .     ISSt 

SERMON  XXXV. 

The  First  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

THE    FALL  OF  JERICHO. 
Joshua  vi.  Ifi.- It  cam-  to  pass  nt  the  seventh  time,  when  the 
priests  blew  with  the  trumpets,  Joshua  said  unto  the  peoph'. 
I      Shout ;  for  the  Lord  halli  given  you  the  city.         .        .     Jli4 

•  SERMON   XXXVI. 

I  The  Second  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

\  THE    GREAT    COMMAND.MENT    OF     CHKIST. 


eil  you. 
SKRMON  XXX.VII. 
The  Third  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

ELI    TREMBLING    FOR    THE    ARK. 

i-i.  iv     13— Lo,  Eli   sat  upon  a  seat  by  the  o'ay  sidn 
imi.lur  his  heart  tr.'mble.l  lor  the  ark  of  God.         .     173 


CONTENTS 


SERMON  XXXVm. 
The  Fourth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

THE  DISCIPLES  WOSUERING    AT  THE    DIFFICULTIES  OF 
SALVATION. 

St.  Mark  x.  26,  27.— They  were  astonished  out  of  measure 
saying  uinong  themselve-s  VViio  then  can  be  saved  1  And 
Jesus,  loukniK  upon  Ihem,  saitli.  With  men  it  is  mipossible, 
bul  nut  with  Gud !<!* 

SERMO.N  XXXIX. 
The  Fifth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

REST  IN  CHRIST  FOR  THE  HEAVY  LADEN. 

;  tliat  labor  and  am 


SERMO.N  XL. 
The  Sixth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

REST  IN  HEAVEN   FOR  THE  TROUBLED. 
2  TiiESSALONiANS  i.  C,  7.— It  is  a   riphleous  thing  with  God  to 


SERMO.\  XLI. 
The  Seventh  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

TRUE    RELIGION    E.XEMPLIFIED  IN  MARY. 

8t.  LrKE  X.  41.  42. — Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  her,  Mar- 
tha. Martha,  thou  art  careful  and  troubled  about  many  tilings, 
but  one  tl  ins  is  needful  ;  and  Mary  bath  chosen  that  good 
part  which  hliali  not  be  taken  away  from  her.      .         .         ISO 

SERMON  XLII. 
The  Eighth  Sunday  aftev  Trinity. 

THE  RESURRECTION  OF  LAZARUS. 

Bt.  John  xi.  43.  44.— And  when  he  had  thus  spoken,  lie  cried 
with  a  loud  voice,  Laiarus,  come  forth ;  and  he  that  was 
dead,  came  forth l^'J 

SERMON  XLIII. 
The  Ninth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

THE  ISRAELITES  DESIRING  FLESH  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

KoMBERs  xi.  .^1.— And  while  the  flesh  was  yet  between  their 
teeth,  ere  it  was  chewed,  the  wrath  of  the  Lord  was  kindled 


sjoii 


SERMON  XLIV 
The  Tenth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

MARY  ANOI.NTING  CHKIST. 

St.  Mark  xiv.  8.  P.— She  haih  done  what  she  could  :  she  is 
come  aforeliand  to  anoint  my  body  to  the  burying.  Verily  I 
say  unto  you,  wheresoever  this  g()>pul  shall  be  preached 
throughout  t'he  whole  world,  this  also  that  she  hath  done, 
■hati  be  spoken  of  for  a  memorial  of  her.    . 

SERMON  XLV. 
The  Eleventh  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

A  SI.NNER  PRAYING  FOR  MERCY. 

St.  Luke  xviii.  13.- The  publican,  stnnding  afar  off,  would 
not  lift  up  so  much  as  his  eyes  unto  heaven,  but  emote  upon 
his  breast,  saying,  God  be  mercilul  to  me  a  sinner.     .         -14 

SERMON  XLVL 
The  Twelfth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 
BT.  Paul's  prayer  for  onesiphorus. 

ITtMOTilY  i.  IP.— The  Lord  grant  unto  him  that  he  may  fim 
mercy  of  the  Lord  in  that  day  .         .         .         .         vllf 


SERMON  XLVn. 
The  Thirteenth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

THE    SERVANTS    OF    CHRIST    IN    HEAVEN. 

Rkvelatiom  xxii.  3,  4. — His  gervnnts  shall  serve  him,  and 
they  shall  see  his  face,  and  his  name  shall  be  in  their  fore- 
heads  224 

SERMON  XLVIII. 
T^e  Fourteenth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

THE    TEN    lepers. 

St.  Lckk  xvii.  15,  16. — And  one  of  them,  when  he  saw  that 
he  was  healed,  turned  back,  and  with  a  luud  voire  glori- 
fied God,  and  fell  down  on  his  face  at  his  feet.  Riving  him 
Uianks .1^9 

SERaiON  XLIX. 
The  Fifteenth  Sunday  after  Tnmty. 

DAVId's  CONFIDENCE  IN  THE  PROSPECT  OFTIIE  FUTURK 
Psalm  xxiii.  1.— I  shall  not  want 233 

SERMON  L. 
The  Sixteenth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

.man's  NEED  SUPPLIED  FRO.M  GOd's  RICHES. 

Phiuppians  iv.  I!).— My  God  shall  supply  all  your  need  ac- 
cording to  his  riches  in  glory,  by  Christ  Jesus.    .        .        238 

SERMON  LL 
The  Seventeenth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

THE    GRACE    OF    OUR    LORD   JESUS    CHRIST. 

Corinthians  viii.  9. — Ye  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  tliut,  though  he  was  rich,  yet  for  your  sakes  he  be- 
came poor,  that  ye  through  his  poverty  might  be  rich.        243 

SERMON  LIL 
The  Eighteenth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

CHRIST    ABLE    TO    KEEP    AND    SAVE. 

DDE  24,  25. — Now  unto  bim  that  is  able  to  keep  you  from  fall- 
ing, and  to  present  you  faultless  before  the  presence  of  his 
glory  with  exceeding  joy,  to  ihe  only  wise  God  our  Saviour, 
be  glory  and  majesty,  dominion  and  power,  both  now  and 
ever.     Amen 248 


SERMON  Lin. 
The  Nineteenth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

JESUS  SUFFERING  WITHOUT    THE  GATE. 

3.— The  I) 


Hbbrews  xiii.  11 

blood  is  brought  into  me  sMiuiiiary  n 
are  burned    wilbout  llie  cinuii.      W  I 
he   might  sanrtil'y  the  peiipl.-  "nh 
without  the   gate.     Let  us  ■^o  lor;li  i 
out  the  camp,  bearing  his  ruproucli. 


of  those  beasts  whqs* 
I  lie  high  priest  for  sin. 
p  iWre  Jesus  also,  that 
~  own  blood,  suffered 
reloro  unto  him  with- 
.        253 


SERMON  LIV. 
The  Twentieth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

THE  CHURCH  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 

1  Timothy  iii.  15.— The  house  of  God, 
the  livmg  God.  .... 

SERMON  LV. 
The  Twenty-first  Sunday  after  Trinity 

THE  CHURCH  THE  TE.MPLE  OF  GOD. 

ZEfHARiAM  vi.  12,  13.— He  shall  build  the  temple  of  the  L«rd, 
ev.  11  he  shall  build  the  temple  of  t^e  Lord,  and  be  shall  bear 
the  glory 263 


CONTENTS. 


SERMON  LVI. 
The  Twenty-second  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

THE  TEMPLE  OF  OOD  BUILT    AMIDST   DIFFICULTIES. 

ZKriiARlAii  iv.  C.  7.— Tliis  is  the  word  of  the  Lord  iinto  Zcrub- 
bul)el,  »ay  ne,  Not  by  niigbl,  lu.r  by  power,  but  by  my  Spir- 
it <aiili  ilie  Lord  ol  boslg.  Who  an  thou,  O  great  inouii- 
tuiii  7  Hell. re  Zeriibbiibel  thou  shall  become  a  plum  :  niiil  he 
■hull  bring  forth  tin-  head  ..lone  lliereof  Willi  sliuutings,  cry- 
ing, IJrucc,  grace  unto  It. -"° 

SERMON  LVII. 
The  Twenly.third  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

THE   UUTV   or  PLEASING  GOD. 

translation  he  had  this  testiraony, 


IcBRiws  x'l.  5.— Bifore 
Uiu'.  he  pleased  God. 


"m 


SERMON   LVin. 
The  Twenty-fourth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

A   DISEASED  WOMAN  HEALED. 

[1,  If  I  may  touch  I 

SERMON  LIX. 
The  Twenty.fifth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

CHRIST  INVITING  HIS  SAINTS  TO  HIS  KINGDOM. 

St.  Matthew  xxv.  ^4. — Then  shall  the  Kins  ?ay  unto  them 
on  liis  flfht  hand,  (^ome,  ye  blessed  of  my  F;itlier,  inherit 
the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundatiiin  of  the 
world 2£i3 


PRACTICAL    SERMONS 


SERMON  I. 

THE    FIRST    SUNDAY    IN    ADVENT. 

THE  DEPARTING  NIGHT  AND  COIVnNG  DAY. 

Romans  xiii.  12. — "  The  night  is  far  spent,  the 
day  is  at  hand.  Let  us  therefore  cast  off  the 
works  of  darkness,  and  let  us  put  on  the  armor 
of  light:' 

It  is  once  again  Advent  in  the  church, 
and  the  thoughts  of  most  of  us  are  naturally 
turning  to  the  two  great  events  the  church 
is  now  contemplating — the  first  lowly  ap- 
pearance of  our  Lord  in  our  nature  at 
Bethlehem,  and  his  coming  again  in  his 
glorious  majesty  to  judge  the  Avorld.  But 
there  are  a  few  among  us,  who,  without 
forgetting  these  events,  have  other  thoughts 
also  in  our  minds.  We  have  begun  to-day 
a  new  year  in  our  public  service,  and  "  How 
swiAly,"  we  have  said  within  ourselves, 
"  do  these  years  run  round  !  How  rapidly 
are  they  hurrying  our  mortal  life  to  an 
end!"  Now  here  in  the  text  is  a  holy 
apostle  speaking  nearly  the  same  language. 
Our  thoughts,  he  tells  us,  are  his  own.  He 
states  a  fact  to  us,  which  places  death  and 
eternity  directly  before  us,  and  then  he 
points  out  to  us  the  conduct  which  becomes 
us  in  our  near  approach  to  them. 

I.  Let  us  consider  the  fad  he  states — 
"  The  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is  at  hand." 

It  will  strike  you  at  once  that,  in  his  use 
of  these  terms,  the  apostle  directly  reverses 
the  sense  in  which  our  Lord  uses  them. 
Referring  to  it  as  the  season  aflbrded  him 
for  accomplishing  his  appointed  work,  our 
Lord  calls  the  present  life  day  ;  "  I  must 
work  the  works  of  him  that  sent  me,  while 
it  is  day  :  the  night  cometh  when  no  man 
can  work."  But  here  the  present  life  is 
called  night,  and  tiie  future,  day.  The  ex- 
planation is  easy — the  Lord  Jesus  is  con- 
trasting the  present  scene  with  the  .stillness 
and  darkness  of  the  grave,  while  the  apostle 
is  looking  on  it  in  contrast  with  the  bright 
heaven  that  lies  beyond  it. 

"  Tlie  night"  —  it  is  a  picture  of  the 
Christian's  present,  state.     In  comparison 


with  other  men,  he  is  in  broad  day  ;  and 
so  he  is  in  comparison  with  his  own  former 
condition.  "  Ye  were  sometime  darkness," 
says  the  apostle,  "  but  now  are  ye  light  in 
the  Lord."  "  God  who  commanded  the 
light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,  hath  shined 
in  our  hearts,  to  give  the  light  of  the  know- 
ledge of  the  glory  of  God  in  the  face  of 
Jesus  Christ."  But  here  the  apostle  is  not 
thinking  of  other  men,  nor  looking  back  to 
our  own  natural  state  :  he  is  looking  for- 
ward ;  he  has  a  glorious  eternity  in  view  5 
and  as  he  contemplates  that,  he  feels  that  he 
and  his  fellow-believers  are  all  still  in  dark- 
ness, that  night  with  its  shadows  is  still 
overspreading  them. 

And  the  figure,  in  this  application  of  it, 
comes  home  at  once  to  our  own  experience 
and  feelings.  Is  night  a  cheerless  season  ? 
So  are  many  of  our  present  hours  to  us. 
Is  it  a  season  of  incertitude  and  perplexity  ? 
So  are  often  the  seasons  of  this  mortal  life. 
Is  it  a  period  of  comparative  inactivity  ?  a 
period  wherein  we  find  it  impossible  to  do 
many  things  we  wish  to  accomplish  ?  Who 
is  there,  that  does  not  feel  his  spiritual  con- 
dition here  to  be  the  same  ?  We  cannot  do 
the  things  that  we  would  ;  we  find  our- 
selves "  sore  let  and  hindered  in  running  the 
race  that  is  set  before  us."  And  is  night 
a  time  of  danger  ?  We  are  never  out  of 
danger  in  this  evil  world. 

But  it  is  our  ignorance  in  this  evil  world, 
that  this  figure  most  forcibly  represents. 
Night  throws  a  veil  over  the  face  of  things. 
The  traveller  sees  nothing  of  the  objects 
around  him.  He  may  be  passing  through 
the  most  beautiful  scenes,  but  he  might 
almost  as  well  be  going  over  a  desert. 
(Strain  his  eyes  as  he  will,  nature  and  its 
j  beauties  are  for  the  greater  part  hidden 
from  him.  So  with  us.  What  do  we 
know  here  of  the  things  we  most  wish  to 
know  ?  of  the  things  which,  we  are  sure, 
would  fill  our  hearts  with  admiration  could 
we  but  discern  them  ?  The  Saviour's 
beauty  and  the  Saviour's  glory,  the  excel- 
lency of  an  infinite  God,  his  ways  and  his 
doings  and  his  purposes,  the  glory  of  his 
kingdom — we  speak  of  these  things,   but 


THE  DEPARTING  NIGHT  AND  COMING  DAY. 


what  do  we  know  of  them  ?  We  must  not 
say,  Nothing,  but  it  is  little  more  than 
nothing ;  about  as  much  as  the  traveller 
sees  at  midnight  of  the  wide-spread  plain 
on  his  right  hand,  or  of  the  mountain  that 
towers  above  him  on  his  left.  The  world 
is  indeed  a  night  to  us ;  not,  blessed  be 
God  !  a  totally  dark  one.  The  stars  do 
sometimes  shine  above  us,  and  flashes  of 
heavenlv  light  will  now  and  then  cross  our 
path,  and,  in  our  hap|)ier  seasons,  something 
like  the  mild,  steady  rays  of  an  unclouded 
moon  will  reach  and  cheer  us ;  but,  at  the 
very  best,  it  is  night  with  us  still,  and  often 
do  we  long  for  the  shadows  to  flee  away, 
and  the  darkness  to  be  gonn. 

But  here  is  another  metaphor  —  "the 
day."  It  signifies  heaven.  "  There  shall 
be  no  night  there,"  we  are  told  ;  nothing  to 
endanger,  or  impede,  or  bewilder,  or  dis- 
tress ;  no  obscurity,  no  darkness.  Every 
thing  we  wish  done  away  with  here,  shall 
be  done  away  with  there,  and  completely 
done  away  with  ;  there  shall  be  no  night, 
nothing  of  niglit,  left.  And  there  shall  be 
every  thing  come,  which  we  have  so  long 
wished  to  see  come.  "  The  day" — sun- 
shine, and  brightness,  and  beauty,  and  hap- 
piness, are  all  connected  in  our  minds  with 
the  word  ;  and  all  the  pk?asant  visions  the 
word  calls  up  in  our  minds,  are  embodied 
and  realized  in  heaven.  It  is  a  low  thing 
to  say  that  we  can  get  no  idea  here  of  the 
positive  happiness  of  heaven  ;  this  one 
word  suggests  to  us  many  lively  ideas  of  it. 

Travel  on  a  bright  day  through  a  beau- 
tiful country,  with  the  glorious  sun  shining 
above  you  and  all  nature  around  you  ex- 
ulting in  his  shining  ;  every  mountain, 
valley,  and  hill,  receiving  brightness  and 
glory  and,  as  it  seems  to  you,  gladness  from 
him,  and  dr-lighting  you,  as  you  pass  along, 
by  reflecting  this  glory  and  gladness.  Then 
transfer  this  scene  to  lieavon.  There  shines 
in  uncloud(Ml  splendor  the  Sun  of  righteous- 
ness. ''  The  glory  of  God,"  it  is  said, 
"  doth  lighten  tluit  hujjpy  world,  and  the 
Lamb,"  the  nianii'estation  of  his  glory,  "is 
the  light  thereof."  And  this  glorious  light 
i.s  ever  shining  on  tlic  most  glorious  objects. 
Ar)d  we  in  heaven  shall  behold  these  ob- 
jects, and  behold  them  clearly,  and  be 
mixed  amongst  them,  and  have  the  same 
light  shining  on  ourselves  and  imjjarting  a 
radiance  to  ourselves,  causing  us  olten  to 
stand  still  and  wonder  at  our  own  magni- 
ficence.    We,  poor  worms  of  the  dust,  irra- 


diated with  our  great  Saviour's  glory,  ever, 
we  "  shall  sliine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the 
kingdom  of  our  Father."  "  Day" — it  rep- 
resents the  heaven  before  us  as  a  world  of 
knowledge  and  vision,  and  he  who  loves  oui 
God  as  some  of  you  love  him,  must  feel 
that  to  see  him,  to  know  him  as  he  is,  must 
be  happiness,  happiness  indeed ;  much 
more  to  be  transformed  into  his  image,  and 
to  reflect  his  glory. 

Now  this  day,  the  apostle  says,  is  near  ; 
"  The  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is  at  hand." 
Fie  speaks  like  a  man  who  has  long  felt 
himself  benighted  in  the  world,  and  who 
sees  at  last  the  morning  breaking.  "  Now," 
he  says  in  the  preceding  verse,  "  is  our 
salvation  nearer  than  when  we  believed," 
than  when  we  first  believed  ;  time  has 
brought  it  nearer.  He  looks  on  himself 
and  his  fellow-believers,  as  standing  on  the 
very  verge  of  God's  kingdom.  And  may 
not  this  be  the  case,  brethren,  with  some 
of  us,  even  with  some  of  us  who  hardly 
suppose  it  to  be  our  case  ?  The  years 
slide  away  so  evenly  and  silently  with  us, 
that  we  are  hardly  conscious  of  their  mo- 
tion. They  carry  us  along  as  a  smooth 
stream  carries  along  the  vessel  that  is  float- 
ing on  it.  Or  else  they  are  like  the  troubled 
waves  of  the  sea — we  are  so  taken  up  with 
their  tossings,  that  we  forget  every  thing 
else;  we  forget  there  is  a  tide  and  a  cur- 
rent among  these  turbulent  waves,  and  that 
they  are  bearing  us  onward  while  they  are 
distressing  us.  "  The  night  is  far  spent," 
we  may  have  almost  done  with  the  world  : 
"  the  day  is  at  hand,"  we  may  be  within  a 
step  of  eternity.  How  then  in  this  situa- 
tion does  the  apostle  call  on  us  to  act  ? 

II.  We  must  look  at  the  advice  he  gives 
us  grounded  on  the  fact  he  states.  He 
places  himself  among  us  and  says,  "  Let  us 
cast  off  the  works  of  darkness,  and  let  us 
put  on  the  armor  of  light." 

Before  however  we  can  do  this,  there  is 
something  else  to  be  done.  Look  back 
once  more  to  the  foregoing  verse.  He  has 
there  in  his  mind  a  man  asleep  by  night 
just  as  the  morning  is  about  to  break.  It 
is  clear  that  such  a  man  must  in  the  first 
instance  rouse  himself,  lie  must  awake 
Till  he  has  done  this,  he  can  do  nothing 
else.  The  apostle  accordingly  calls  on  us 
to  awake.  Like  a  fellow-traveller  or  a  feU 
low-soldier  who  has  risen  before  us,  he 
comes  to  us,  armounces  the  approaching 
morning,  and  bids  us  rise.     "  Knowing  the 


THE  DEPARTING  NIGHT  AND  COMING  DAY. 


time."  he  says,  how  near  the  day  is,  "  it  is 
higli  time  tliat  we  awake  out  of  sleep." 
And  turn  to  tiie  fifth  chapter  of  his  first 
epistle  to  the  Thossalouians :  we  find  him 
expressinij  the  same  idea  there.  "  The  day 
of  the  Lord,"  he  says,  "  is  coming,  and 
coming  speedily,  and  we  are  all  the  chil- 
dren of  the  light  and  the  children  of  the  day. 
Therefore  let  us  not  sleep  as  do  others,  but 
let  us  watch  ,"  watch  for  the  day  ;  be  up 
c-     prepared  for  it. 

N  iw  all  this  supposes  that  even  real 
Christians  may  sink  into  a  state  too  much 
resembling  sleep  ;  into  a  state  of  spiritual 
negligence,  and  sloth,  and  almost  torpor. 
And  it  shows  us,  brethren,  that  out  of  a 
state  like  this,  if  we  are  in  it,  we  must  be 
roused  before  we  can  obey  the  exhortation 
before  us  or  any  other.  A  man  asleep  can 
do  nothinff ;  he  is  fit  for  nothing  ;  you  must 
wake  him  lief)re  he  can  be  active  again. 
Shall  we  say,  May  God  in  his  mercy  wake 
us  ?  Til."  apostle  here  seems  rather  to  say, 
•'  Do  not  wait  for  this  ;  wake  yourselves. 
By  prayer,  by  effort,  by  a  careful  avoiding 
of  whatever  chills  the  spiritual  life  within 
you,  get  rid  of  tiie  torpor  which  has  over- 
spread your  souls.  The  day  is  at  hand. 
Your  Lord  and  Saviour  is  at  hand,  bring- 
ing your  full  salvation  with  him.  Now 
therefore  arouse  yourselves ;  awake  and 
arise." 

The  exhortation  in  the  text  supposes  us 
to  be  thus  awake,  to  be  in  the  situation  of 
men  returning  once  again  at  break  of  day 
to  consciousness  ;  and  it  calls  on  us  to  put 
oifcertaiji  things  in  which  we  have  arrayed 
ourselves,  and  to  put  on  other  things  more 
becoming  us. 

I.  We  are  to  "  cast  off  the  works  of 
darkness." 

And  what  are  these?  Evil  works,  evil 
dispositions  and  practices.  They  are  call- 
ed "  works  of  darkness,"  because  they  are 
works  that  court  secrecy  and  concealment ; 
dark  works ;  things  which  a  man  does  by 
stealth,  and  tries  to  hide  as  he  does  them. 
And  they  are  works  that  are  connected 
with  Satan,  the  prince  of  darkness  ;  they 
are  congenial  with  his  nature,  and  are 
itften  the  result  of  his  temptations  and  influ- 
I'nce. 

And  O  how  full  is  this  benighted  world 
of  such  works  as  these  !  Early  in  life  wo 
see  little  of  them  ;  we  wonder  at  what  we 
hear  from  older  men  of  the  world's  hypo- 
crisy and  vileness ;  but  let  any  one  live 


forty  or  fifty  years  in  the  world,  and  have 
opportunities  of  looking  l)elow  the  surface 
of  society  into  men's  private  habits  and  his- 
tories— what  a  world  of  iniquity  does  he 
find  it  !  He  sees  in  it  indeed  nnicli  to  ad- 
mire, much  to  be  thankful  for,  much  tiiat 
glorifies  the  power  and  goodness  of  God, 
but  much  still  tliat  makes  him  wonder  at 
God's  patience  with  it,  mu(di  that  shocks 
liim,  and  disgusts  him,  and  grieves  his  in- 
most soul.  There  are  times  when  the  world 
appears  to  him  but  little  better  than  a  field 
of  whited  sepulchres,  without  fair  and  spe- 
cious, but  within  a  dismal  scene  of  all  that 
is  mournful  and  revolting. 

Now  from  all  these  things,  these  works 
of  darkness,  the  Christian  is  to  free  himself. 
He  has  indeed  been  freed  from  them  in  the 
main  long  ago,  but  he  is  supposed  to  have 
been  off  his  guard,  sleeping,  and  to  have 
wrapped  himself  up  again  in  some  of  these 
works  ;  and  now  he  is  awake,  he  is  to  throw 
them  off,  as  he  would  throw  off  an  unseem- 
ly night-dress,  garments  which  are  unbe- 
coming and  unfit  for  the  day. 

It  is  impossible,  brethren,  to  fall  into  a 
state  of  spiritual  indifference  and  sloth,  with- 
out getting  some  of  these  unclean  things 
upon  us.  A  man,  when  he  wakes  up  from 
such  a  state,  is  sure  to  find  evil  cleaving  to 
him,  evil  which  he  did  not  see  or  think  of 
while  he  was  slumbering,  but  which  he 
now  feels  to  his  sorrow  is  encompassing 
him.  "  O  how  could  I  do  this  ?"  he  says, 
'•  and  how  could  1  fall  into  that?  Where 
was  my  love  for  my  Saviour,  and  where 
my  fear  of  my  God  ?  I  am  a  wonder  to 
myself,  and  a  grief  and  shame  to  myself. 
I  feel  like  a  man  who  suddenly  finds  him- 
self clothed,  he  knows  not  how,  in  garments, 
unclean  garments,  whicli  he  had  long  since 
thrown  aside,  and  never  thought  of  seeing 
again."  "  You  must  throw  them  aside 
again,"  this  text  says.  "  The  day  is  com- 
ing, and  they  are  unfit  for  the  day.  You 
must,  bv  God's  help,  cast  them  off." 

And  these  evil  works,  observe,  are  to  be 
got  rid  of  in  the  finst  place.  We  are  to  put 
them  off  before  we  attempt  to  put  any  thing 
else  on.  There  is  not  a  greater  delusion 
than  to  think  we  can  be  clothed  in  the  gra- 
ces of  Christ's  Spirit,  while  we  are  holding 
fast  any  beloved  sin.  As  to  our  bodies,  we 
may  put  a  clean  garment  over  an  unclean 
one,  and  come  forth  fair  and  even  splendid 
in  appearance  when  we  have  done  so  ;  but 
we  cannot  act  thus  with  our  souls.     We 


8 


THE  DEPARTING  NIGHT  AND  COMING  DAY. 


cai  never  get  our  min(]s  imbued  with  any 
one  Christian  grace,  as  long  as  we  are  har- 
boring in  our  minds  any  one  unchristian 
lust.  This  is  like  attempting  to  plant  fruits 
and  flowers  in  poisoned  ground ;  they  will 
not  grow,  they  will  not  take  root.  Where 
the  heart  is  impure,  the  whole  soul  will  be 
unfruitful,  and  barren,  and  in  the  end  des- 
olate. Hence  it  is  that  "ceasing  to  do 
evil"  is  so  often  joined  in  scripture  with 
"  learning  to  do  well,"  and  generally  put 
btifore  it.  We  are  to  "  lay  aside  every 
weight,"  this  apostle  says,  "  and  the  sin 
which  doth  so  easily  beset  us,"  and  then 
we  are  to  "  run  with  j)aticnce  the  race  that 
is  set  before  us."  We  are  to  "cleanse 
ourselves  from  all  filthiness  of  the  flesh  and 
spirit,"  he  says  again ;  then  shall  we  be 
in  a  condition  to  set  about  "  perfecting  ho- 
liness in  the  fear  of  God."  O  that  the 
Spirit  of  (Jod  would  teach  all  of  us  this  ! 
O  that  he  would  discover  to  many  of  us  to- 
day something  or  other  he  would  have  us 
cast  oti"!  There  are  few  of  us,  perhaps, 
who  have  not  something  to  renounce.  Part 
with  it,  brethren.  If  it  is  a  work  of  dark- 
n(!ss,  if  it  will  not  bear  the  light,  if  you 
would  be  asliamed  to  practise  it  before 
your  fellow-men,  nay,  if  it  will  not  bear  the 
light  of  heaven,  if  you  would  be  afraid  to 
practise  it  in  God's  sight,  have  done  with 
it ;  throw  it  away  ;  it  is  not  worth  the  keep- 
ing. Retain  it,  and  it  is  easy  to  say  what 
it  will  do  with  you — it  will  go  on  polluting 
you  more  and  more,  till  at  last,  contamina- 
ted to  your"  heart's  core,  you  will  become 
unconscious  of  your  pollution.  Your  heart 
will  be  like  a  charnel-house,  full  of  all  un- 
cleaiUK'ss,  and  yet  quiet,  senseless,  feeling 
and  knowing  it  not. 

2.  We  are  to  "put  on  the  armor  of 
light." 

Mere  the  metophor  is  partly  kept  up  and 
partly  changed.  Garments  are  still  in  the 
apostle's  mind,  only  now  these  garments 
are  pircer,  of  military  attire.  The  roused 
up  man  is  addressed  as  a  warrior  ;  he  is 
to  array  himself  in  armor,  and  this  the 
"  armor  of  ligl)t." 

"Armor" — holiness  is  meant,  the  va- 
rious graces  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  These 
are  called  here  and  elsewliere  by  this  name, 
Ixeause,  the  Lord  working  by  them,  they 
iefend  the  Christian  from  the  dangers 
■wherewith  he  is  yet  cncompassfd  in  the 
world,  protecting  him  from  his  spiritual 
enemies  wlien  the'    assail  him,  and  ena- 


bling him  to  obtain  victory  after  victory 
over  them. 

"  The  armor  of  light" — this  beautiful 
term  is  applied  to  holiness,  partly  on  ac- 
count of  the  source  u  comes  from,  and  partly 
on  accountof  its  own  brightness  and  beauty. 

Its  source  is  divine.  Like  the  light,  it 
is  heaven-born,  coming  down  from  heav- 
en, and  from  the  very  summit  of  heaven, 
from  God  himself.  As  evil  desires  and 
works  often  proceed  from  Satan  in  his  dark 
world,  so  "  all  holy  desires,  all  good  coun- 
sels, and  all  just  works,  proceed  from 
God"  in  his  bright  world.  This  holiness 
is  called  therefore  hi  another  place  "  the 
armor  of  God,"  armor  of  God's  providing 
and  giving  ;  and  it  is  more  than  this — it  is 
a  part  of  God's  own  nature  communicated 
to  man,  and  the  most  glorious  part  of  his 
nature.  He  is  called  light,  he  is  repre- 
sented to  us  as  a  bright  and  glorious  God, 
chiefly  because  he  is 'a  pure  God.  He  is 
"glorious  in  holiness;"  his  purity  gives 
him  his  splendor.  So  when  he  communi- 
cates his  holiness  to  us,  he  communicates 
with  it  a  portion  of  his  own  glory  ;  he 
clothes  us  in  light,  putting  on  us  a  moral 
beauty  as  he  purifies  us.  We  look  foi 
safety  and  victory  only  from  the  armor  he 
gives  us,  but  that  armor  is  adorning  and 
glittering  ;  it  ennobles  and  dignifies  us  as 
we  go  forth  to  the  fight  in  it.  The  church 
in  the  Canticles  is  represented  in  this  state. 
She  has  put  on  this  armor  of  light,  and  now 
"  she  looketh  forth  as  the  morning,  fair  as 
the  moon,  clear  as  the  sun,  and  terrible  as 
an  army  with  banners." 

And  there  is  another  idea  conveyed  by 
this  figure — this  holiness  accords  well  with 
the  heaven  to  which  we  are  going.  It  is 
light,  something  liarmonizing  with  the 
splendid  day  which  is  soon  to  break  on  us. 
x\rrayed  in  it,  we  go  into  heaven  with  hea- 
venly garments,  as  it  were,  already  upon 
us,  with  our  day  clothes  on — a  bright  and 
beautiful  dress  suited  for  a  bright  and  beau- 
tiful world.  The  expression  intimates  a 
preparedness  for  heaven,  that  "  meetness 
for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light," 
which  God,  the  Father  of  lights,  always 
gives  to  his  saints  before  he  takes  them  to 
their  inheritance. 

May  I  not  then  say  to  you,  Christian 
brethren,  and  say  it  as  this  apostle  did,  like 
one  who  feels  that  he  must  say  it  to  himself 
also,  "  Let  us  cast  ofl'  the  works  of  dark- 
ness, and  let  us  put  on  the  armor  of  light  V 


CHRIST  PROCLAIMING  HIS  APPROAClIIN(i  ADVENT. 


Has  God  by  his  grace  made  us  children 
of  liie  light?  calling  us  out  of  a  state  of 
darkness,  yea,  almost  forcing  us  out  of  it, 
and  clfansing  us  from  the  guilt  of  ten 
thousand  sins  as  he  has  brought  us  out  of 
it,  freely  pardoning  and  freely  loving  us  ? 
I  might  say  to  you,  look  backward  into 
the  past.  O  what  motives  to  holiness,  and 
love,  and  obedience,  press  there  upon  our 
view  !  And  were  I  to  speak  of  the  pres- 
ent, we  should  see  almost  as  many  there. 
But  the  apostle  bids  us  look  forward.  We 
are  on  the  confines  of  heaven,  he  says. 
The  rolling  years,  as  they  have  moved 
along,  have  brought  us  almost  within  sight 
of  it.     And  can  we  bear  with  and  tolerate 


sm  m  oursi'lves  mere 


We  often  look  for- 
comfort   under  the 


ward  into  heaven  fo 
troubles  of  life  ;  we  are  calleil  on  to-day  to 
look  forward  into  it  for  something  better  than 
comfort — for  holiness  ;  to  quicken  our  de- 
sires for  holiness,  to  discover  more  of  the 
beauty  and  glory  of  holiness,  to  stir -us  up  to 
renewed  prayers  and  efforts  for  holiness; 
to  send  us  from  these  walls  to  our  homes, 
searching  our  hearts  and  lives  ;  asking 
ourselves,  each  of  us,  some  such  simple 
questions  as  these.  What  sin  is  there,  which 
by  the  strength  of  God,  I  can  cast  further 
from  me  ?  What  grace  is  there,  that  I  have 
yet  to  put  on  ? 

We  are  in  an  evil  world,  brethren  ;  a 
world  of  polluting,  contaminating,  soul-de- 
stroying evil  ;  a  world  which  every  holy 
man  who  sees  it  as  it  is,  often  aches  to  look 
at,  and  at  times  almost  trembles  to  be  in. 
You,  and  T,  and  our  children,  must  be 
armed,  if  we  would  walk  safely  through 
it ;  and  the  only  armor  that  will  avail  us, 
is  this  armor  of  light,  this  armor  of  God. 
Prudence  will  not  secure  us;  education 
and  care  cannot  be  depended  on  to  secure 
our  children.  What  we  want  for  them 
and  for  ourselves,  is  the  regenerating,  con- 
trolling, heart-purifving  influence  of  the 
grace  of  Christ.  Nay,  we  want  Christ 
himself  within  us,  his  Spirit  and  nature. 
Then  may  we  tread  even  in  this  evil  world 
firmly.  It  may  tempt  us  ;  it  may  harass 
us;  and  whr^n  we  will  not  follow  it  in  its 
evil  doing-^,  it  may  treat  us  as  it  has  treated 
in  all  ages  the  saints  and  servants  of  God  ; 
and  let  it  so  treat  us — it  can  do  us  no  real 
harm,  and  we  shall  soon  be  out  of  its  reach. 
At  the  most  a  few  more  advents,  and  with 
us  the  time  of  this  mortal  life  will  I)e  ended. 
The  night  will  indeed  be  gone,  the  day  will 


indeed  bf  begun.  We  shall  want  no  earth- 
ly  sunshine  then,  no  rising  sun  to  give  us 
light ;  the  Lord  himself"  will  be  our  ever- 
lasting liirht.  and  the  days  of  our  mourning 
dl  be  ended."  "  We  shall  rise  to  t^lie 
life  immortal,  through  him  who  liveth  and 
r(Mgneth  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy 
Ghost,  now  and  forever." 


SERMON  II. 

THE    SECOND    SUNDAY    IN    ADVENT 

CHRIST  PROCLAIMING  HIS  APPl^ CACHING 
ADVENT. 

Revelation  xxii.  20. — "  He  which  testifieth  these 
things,  saith,  Surely  I  come  quickly.  Amen  ; 
even  so ;  come,  Lord  Jesus." 

We  can  consider  scarcely  any  prophecy 
of  our  Lord's  first  coming,  without  being 
constrained  to  wonder  at  the  exactness  with 
which  it  has  been  fulfilled.  Just  as  cer- 
tainly and  minutely  will  all  the  predictions 
of  his  second  coming  be  accomplished. 

Here  in  the  text  is  one  of  these  predictions. 
It  is  the  last  that  was  ever  given  to  the 
church,  and  it  comes  from  Christ  himself. 
We  must  examine,  first,  the  declaration  he 
makes  in  it,  and  then  his  apostle's  answer. 

I.  Our  Lord's  .declaration,  you  oV>serve, 
is  short,  but  yet  it  is  very  emphatic.  Three 
ideas  are  convoyed  to  us  by  it. 

1 .  The  speediness  of  his  coming.  "  I  come 
quickly,"  he  says.  And  something  like  this 
is  often  said  in  scripture  ;  "  The  coming  of 
the  Lord  dnnveth  nigh  ;"  "  The  Lord  is  at 
hand;"  "The  .Judge  standeth  before  the 
door." 

But  what,  we  naturally  ask,  is  the  mean- 
ing  of  this  ?  Century  after  century  has 
passed  away  since  it  was  uttered,  and  still 
the  Lord  is  not  here.  Why  did  he  so  often 
announce  himself  as  about  to  come,  yea, 
as  already  on  his  way?  He  did  so  perhaps 
for  this  reason — because  it.  seemed  to  him  but 
n  short  time  before  his  coming. 

Things  are  long  or  short,  great  or  small, 
we  all  know,  by  comparison.  A  child 
born  in  a  village,  thinks  that  village  a  large 
place,  for  it  has  never  seen  a  larger;  but 
take  a  man  who  has  traversed  kingdoms 
and  continents,  he  looks  on  it  as  it  is.  So 
with  us.     As  far  as  time  is  concerned,  we 


10 


CHRIST  PROCLAIMING  HIS  APPROACHING  ADVENT. 


are  cliildven.  We  are  accustomed  to  think 
of  short  intervals  of  time  only,  of  months 
and  years,  at  the  utmost  of  centuries.  We 
cannot  carry  our  minds  over  centuries 
without  an  etfort.  But  he  who  is  speaking 
here,  is  the  Lord  of  etcrtiitv,  one  whose 
eye  is  accustomed  to  range  over  all  tl.e 
wide  boundaries  of  time,  and  who  can  sur- 
vey them  all  at  a  glance,  with  whom  cen- 
turies are  as  minutes  and  ages  as  hours. 
In  the  thirteenth  verse  he  tells  us  who  he 
is;  "I  am  Alpha  and  Omega,  the  begin- 
ning and  the  end,  the  first  and  the  last." 
And  this  too  is  St.  Peter's  explanation,  not 
of  this  text,  but  of  others  like  it;  "One 
day  is  with  the  Lord  as  a  thousand  years, 
and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day."  The 
Lord,  he  implies,  docs  not  measure  time  as 
we  measure  it,  nor  look  on  it  as  we  look 
on  it.  It  is  one  thing  to  us  and  another  to 
him.  Well  then  may  he  say,  "I  come 
quickly,"  for  to  his  wide  glancing  eye 
there  is  but  a  little  space  between  this 
promise  and  its  fulfilment.  The  centuries 
that  lie  between,  are  as  nothing  in  his  sight. 

Or  we  may  take  another  explanation  of 
the  word.  Our  Lord  may  be  understood 
as  saying  that  whenever  he  comes,  he  will 
come  suddenly,  uneoqwctedhj.  Men  in  gen- 
eral, he  may  mean,  shall  not  be  looking  for 
him  at  the  time.  The  day  of  his  coming 
shall  be  as  quiet  as  any  other  day.  The 
sun  shall  shine  as  brightly  as  ever ;  the 
air  be  as  calm  and  silent ;  the  foundations 
of  the  earth  seem  as  firm.  Nature  shall 
give  no  sign  of  her  approaching  dissolution, 
nor  heaven  of  its  opening  glories.  The 
Lord  will  burst  at  once  on  the  startled 
world.  The  trumpet  shall  sound  one  mo- 
ment ;  the  next,  he  will  be  before  our 
eyes  on  his  throne.  The  lightning  that 
flashes  suddenly  across  the  sky  ;  the  thief 
that  approaches  a  habitation  stealthily  and 
silently  in  the  night — these,  he  tells  us, 
represent  the  manner  of  his  coming  ;  and 
he  tells  us  so,  to  put  us  on  our  guard,  to 
keep  alive  in  us  a  constant  expectation  of 
him.  "  Watch,  therefore,"  he  says,  "  for 
ve  know  neitlier  the  day  nor  the  hour 
wherein  the  Son  of  man  cometh." 

There  is  yet  a  third  interpretation  to  be 
civen.  The  expression  may  intimate  that 
our  Lord  will  come.  ihr.  instant  he  can  come. 

We  must  remember  where  his  words 
stand.  Throughout  this  book,  he  has  been 
laying  open  to  .fi»iin  the  future  history  of 
his   church.       This,   he  says,  is   to  take 


place,  and  that  to  be  done.  His  Fathef 
built  the  world  to  accomplish  certain  pur- 
poses in  it,  and  they  must  be  accoiiiplished. 
At  the  close  of  all  this  we  read,  "  He  Avhich 
testifieth  these  things,  saith,  I  come  quick- 
ly." He  means,  therefore,  we  may  con- 
clude, that  after  all  the  foregoing  prophe- 
cies contained  in  this  book  are  fulfilled, 
then  lie  will  come,  come  immediately,  lose 
not  a  moment,  come  at  once.  He  cannot 
come  now.  There  yet  remains  much  to 
be  done  in  our  world.  There  is  the  ever- 
lasting gospel  to  be  preached  to  all  nations, 
the  mystical  Babylon  to  be  overthrown, 
.\nticlirist  to  be  d.  slroyed,  tl;e  kingdoms 
of  the  world  to  become  the  kingdoms  of  our 
Lord  and  of  his  Christ,  the  number  of  God's 
elect  to  be  accomplished  ;  but  let  all  this 
be  once  brought  to  pass,  let  the  angel  once 
lift  up  his  hand  to  heaven  and  swear  that 
the  mystery  of  God  is  finished,  let  the  way- 
be  once  open  for  the  Lord  Jesus  to  come, 
and  he  will  be  here.  He  will  come  as 
quickly  as  love  and  joy  can  bring  -him. 
The  next  moment  his  people  will  hear  his 
voice  in  the  air,  and  behold  him  rending 
the  clouds.  He  lingered  not  at  his  first 
coming,  though  he  well  knew  that  he  was 
coming  to  a  manger  and  a  cross,  to  degra- 
dation, and  misery,  and  death.  "  When 
the  fulness  of  time  was  come,  God  sent 
forth  his  Son  ;"  and  that  Son  came  forth 
more  readily  from  his  Father's  kingdom, 
than  the  captive  exile  hastens  from  his 
dungeon.  And  will  he  not  come  as  readily 
and  quickly,  when  he  comes  to  seat  himself 
on  the  throne  of  his  glory,  and  to  gather 
together  his  redeemed  ? 

2,  This  declaration  announces  next  the 
certainty  of  his  coming.  He  foretells  it,  you 
observe,  in  a  very  strong  maimer.  "  Surely 
I  come  quickly."  He  speaks  like  one  who 
has  made  up  his  mind  to  come,  and  who 
knows  that  at  a  given  time  he  can  come,  and 
who  consequently  is  sure  that  he  shall  come. 

His  coming  is  certain,  for  his  mind  is 
decided  as  to  it. 

God  never  acts  at  random.  All  he  doe 
is  the  result  of  thought  and  design.  He, 
moreover,  never  alters  any  one  thing  he 
has  determined  on,  for  he  has  no  need  to 
alter  it.  We  cannot  look  before  us,  and 
are  continually  obliged  to  change  our  plans 
and  conduct  according  to  changing  cir- 
cumstances ;  but  not  so  the  all-wise  God. 
He  sees  the  end  froir  the  beginning,  and 
forms   his  designs   accordingly.     He    liat 


I 


CHRIST  PROCLAIMING  HIS  AITROACHING  ADVENT. 


11 


nothini;  to  alter.  Only  then  let  him  tle- 
teiMiiino  on  any  thinji,  and  tiiat  thing  will 
in('vital)ly  conic  to  pass. 

Now  there  is  notiiing  more  determined 
on  by  him  than  tlie  sending  of  his  Son  from 
heaven  to  judge  our  world.  He  has  re- 
solved to  judge  it  ;  he  has  ordajned  him  as 
its  .Fud<,re  ;  he  has  appointed  the  very  day 
wiien  iie  is  to  go  forth  from  ium,  and  sit 
on  his  judgment-seat.  So  Paul  tohl  tlie 
Athenians  ;  "  lie  hath  appointed  a  day  in 
the  whicii  he  will  judge  the  world  in  righte- 
ousness by  that  Man  whom  he  hatii  or- 
dained." "  And  knowing  this  to  be  the  will 
of  iiis  Father,  our  Lord  says  here,  "  Surely 
I  come  quickly.  Fear  no  disappointment. 
It  is  my  Father's  good  pleasure  that  I 
should  come  ;  it  is  my  own  determination 
to  come  ;  and  come  I  shall." 

He  knows,  too,  Ihal  he  can  come. 

We  purpose,  and  in  some  cases  we  do 
not  change  our  minds.  We  continue  re- 
solved to  carry  our  purposes  into  effect. 
But  we  cannot.  Some  unforeseen  diffi- 
culty rises  up  in  our  way,  and  all  our 
plans  come  to  nothing.  But  what  is  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
when  he  plans  and  purposes?  If  he  says, 
"  I  will  come,"  who  shall  hinder  him  ?  Go 
and  beat  back  the  ocean  as  the  swelling 
tide  rolls  it  on  ;  stop  the  sun  in  his  setting 
this  evening,  or  put  forth  your  arm  and 
hold  him  down  on  the  morrow  as  he  begins 
to  rise  again  in  his  majesty  from  his  cham- 
bers of  the  east ;  it  would  he  more  easily 
done  than  delaying  one  moment  the  great 
Saviour's  advent.  He  will  not  be  delayed  ; 
he  cannot  be  hindered  ;  therefore  he  says, 
"  Surely  I  come.  Come  I  can,  and  come 
I  will."'  The  event  is  certain,  for  he  has 
firmly  purposed  it,  and  all  that  he  purposes, 
he  has  power  to  accomplish. 

3.  Observe  another  thing  intimated  here, 
the  importance  of  our  Lord's  coming  ;  its 
importance,  I  mean,  in  his  own  estima- 
tion. 

We  ministers  sometimes  preach  of  it, 
and  you  frequently  hear  of  it,  as  though  it 
were  a  matter  of  trifling  moment.  It  is  a 
long  way  off,  we  think,  and  as  yet  the  pros- 
pect of  it  need  not  trouble  us.  But  not  so 
Christ.  While  he  was  on  earth,  he  was 
continually  bringing  it  before  the  minds  of 
his  disciples,  and  urging  on  them  its  import- 
ance ;  and  he  speaks  of  it  here  from  heav- 
en, as  though  it  still  seemed  to  him  of  the 
utmost  moment.     He  is  just  going,  as  it 


were,  to  leave  us;  he  is  just  about  to, let 
his  voice  be  heard  for  the  last  time  on  earth, 
till  he  calls  up  the  dead  with  it ;  thousands 
of  years  are  to  pass  away  before  he  will 
speak  to  us  again  ;  and  what  is  the  last 
thing  he  says  I  It  is  not,  "  Remember  me. 
Though  you  neither  see  me  nor  hear  me, 
yet  think  of  me."  It  is,  "  I  shall  certainly 
come  again.  Surely  I  come  quickly." 
And  he  says  this,  observe,  in  this  con- 
eluding  chapter  of  his  holy  word  three 
times  over;  first  in  the  seventh  V(M'se,  then 
in  the  twelfth,  ami  then  here.  And  it  is 
also  worthy  of  remark,  that  very  frecpiently 
in  scripture  when  he  speaks  of  his  coming, 
he  introduces  what  he  says  with  the  word 
"  Behold,"  as  though  to  draw  our  attention 
to  it,  and  stamp  it  with  importance ;  "  Be- 
hold, I  come  quickly  ;"  "  Behold,  I  come 
as  a  thief;"  "  Behold,  the  Bridegroom  com- 
eth."  And  he  causes  his  apostles  to  do  the 
same.  "  Behold,  he  cometh  with  clouds," 
says  one.  "B-hold,"  says  another,  "the 
Judge  standeth  before  the  door." 

Now  all  this  imj)liesthat  when  he  comes, 
he  will  not  come  for  any  ordinary  purpose. 
He  will  not  come  to  astonish  our  world,  or 
to  make  an  empty  display  in  it  of  his  power 
and  glory,  or  to  bring  about  some  slight 
changes  in  its  condition ;  he  will  come  on 
an  errand  that  fdls  his  own  soul  with  emo- 
tion  as  he  contemplates  it.  And,  therefore, 
the  day  of  his  connng  is,  in  his  view  of  it, 
the  most  momentous  of  all  days.  It  is 
never  out  of  his  mind.  He  closes  the  word 
of  his  testimony  with  telling  usof  it.  Would, 
brethren,  that  we  all  regarded  it  as  he 
does  !  True,  he  is  deeply  interested  in  it, 
but  we  more.  What  is  the  day  of  trial  to 
the  judge,  when  compared  with  what  it  is 
to  the  criminals  who  are  to  be  tried  in  it  ? 
But  yet  in  this  case  the  Judge  thinks  much 
of  it,  the  criminals  little.  O  pray  for  your- 
selves,  that  before  it  arrives,  you  may  feel 
its  importance ! 

II.  Let  us  pass  on  now  to  the  other  part 
of  the  te.xt — the  apostle's  answer  to  this  de- 
claration of  his  Lord. 

If  you  will  look  at  the  verse,  you  will 
see  that  the  word  "  Amen"  which  occurs 
in  it,  is  included  in  most  of  your  Bibles 
among  our  Lord's  words :  the  full  stop  is 
placed  after  it.  But  perhaps  it  is  more 
natural  to  place  the  stop  before  it,  and  to 
take  the  word  as  forming  a  part  of  the  fol- 
lowing reply.  Then  the  case  will  stand 
thus.     Christ  speaks  from  heaven  and  says, 


12 


CHRIST  PROCLAIMIN(;  HIS  APPROACHING  ADVENT. 


"Surely  T  come  quickly."  The  apostle 
hears  him,  atid  how  is  he  affected  ?  What 
does  ho  answer  ?  We  siiould  have  said 
perhap-;,  He  will  give  no  answer  at  all :  he 
will  receive  the  solemn  declaration  with 
awe  and  silence.  But  no;  he  immediately 
answers  his  Lord,  and  in  such  a  way  as 
shows  he  has  heard  something  which  has 
given  him  pleasure.  His  reply  is  a  com- 
plete echo  to  his  Master's  declaration.  It 
is  expressive  of  the  most  cordial  acqui- 
escence in  his  coming,  and  also  of  a  very 
strong  desire  for  it.  "Amen,"  he  says; 
"  amen  ;  even  so  ;  come,  Lord  Jesus." 

You  remember  what  is  said  to  Christ  in 
one  of  the  prophetical  psalms;  "  Thy  peo- 
ple shall  be  willing  in  the  day  of  thy 
power."  See  here  a  fulfilment  of  this 
prophecy.  How  complete  is  their  willing- 
ness !  His  people  are  not  only  made  will- 
ing to  come  to  Christ  at  first  for  salvation, 
willing  to  be  cleansed  in  his  blood  and 
sanctified  by  liis  Spirit,  willing  to  ibllow 
him  wherever  he  leads  them,  but  here  at 
last  they  are  willing  to  be  judged  by  him  ; 
willing  for  him  to  come  in  his  glory  and 
to  call  them  to  his  bar.  All  other  men 
dread  his  coming.  They  think  of  it,  if 
they  think  of  it  at  all,  with  apprehension 
and  pain.  They  would  rejoice  were  he 
never  to  come,  and  they  never  to  see  him. 
But  turn  to  those  who  have  found  pardon 
in  the  blood  of  Jesus,  and  know  they  have 
found  it — there  is  not  one  among  them 
who  would"  not  join,  and  join  with  his 
whole  soul,  in  the  language  of  this  apostle. 
"  Amen,"  they  would  say,  every  one  of 
them  ;  "  even  so ;  come,  Lord  Jesus.  Once 
we  scarcely  ever  thought  of  tiiy  coming. 
We  he;ird  of  it  with  as  unich  unconcern 
as  though  we  had  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
And  wlien  it  pleased  thee  by  thy  Spirit  to 
remove  this  indifierence  from  us,  we  did 
not  at  once  desire  thine  appearing.  Nay, 
we  trembled  as  we  thought  of  it.  We 
would  have  given  thousands  of  worlds,  had 
they  iieen  ours,  to  keep  thee  away  forever. 
But  now — O  blessed  be  thy  power  and 
gracf  !  we  are  willing  for  thee  to  come  ; 
we  long  for  thee  to  come,  and  to  come  as 
quickly  as  thou  wilt.  There  is  nothing 
we  desire  so  much  as  thy  coming.  Our 
wearied  souls  often  ache  for  thy  coming. 
It  is  our  cl)ief  joy  that  thou  wilt  come, 
and  that  we  shall  see  thee  at  thy  coming. 
Come,  Lord  Jesus  ;  come  as  thou  sayest 
thou  wilt,  quickly." 


I  Not  that  every  real  Christian  can  at  all 
I  times  speak  thus.  The  holiest  perhaps  of 
[  Christ's  servants  may  sometimes  think  tor  an 
hour  of  his  Master's  coming  with  a  strange 
I  indifference,  and  then  contemplate  it  for 
another  hour  with  a  mixture  of  alarm  and 
terror ;  but  still  this  is  not  the  usual  frame 
of  his  mind.  He  does  not  settle  down  in 
these  feelings.  There  is  a  tendency  in 
the  grace  he  has  received,  to  make  him 
long  for  his  Saviour;  and  long  for  him  ho 
does,  and  for  his  appearing.  He  is  habitu- 
ally in  the  attitud'e  of  a  servant  who  ia 
waiting  for  his  Lord. 

But  why  do  the  people  of  Christ  thus 
desire  the  coming  of  Christ  ?  For  several 
reasons. 

1 .  Because  they  desire  to  see  this  evil  and 
miserable  world  come  to  an  end. 

"  I  shall  soon  die,"  says  the  Christian  in 
some  of  his  moments,  "  and  then  what  will 
matter  to  me  the  world's  crimes  and  the 
world's  miseries  ?  They  vex  and  pain  me 
now  almost  beyond  endurance,  but  the  time 
is  short.  They  will  soon  be  no  more  lo 
me  thari  the  storms  that  will  beat  on  my 
grave."  These,  however,  are  not  the  man's 
best  moments.  At  other  times,  he  feels 
that  it  is  not  enough  for  him  to  make  h\i 
own  escape  from  the  windy  storm  and  tem- 
pest ;  he  longs  for  the  storm  to  cease  and 
the  tempest  to  be  still.  He  looks  on  the 
world  as  no  other  man  looks  on  it.  It  is 
in  his  eye  a  world  in  which  his  own  fellow- 
creatures,  his  brethren  and  companions, 
are  shining,  and  suffering,  and  perishing; 
a  world  in  which  his  own  fellow-Christians, 
men  of  whom  such  a  place  is  not  worthy, 
are  trampled  on  and  despised,  a  world 
where  his  own  God  is  dishonored,  and  the 
Saviour  he  adores  set  at  naught.  He  sees 
it  a  world  of  disorder  and  crime  and  havoc 
and  misery,  a  strange  dark  blot  in  God's 
\vonderful  creation  ;  and  the  consequence 
is,  he  desires  to  see  an  everlasting  end  j)ut 
to  it.  Like  that  creation  itself,  he  well 
nigh  groans  for  the  hour,  when  his  Re- 
deemer shall  come  from  the  skies  and  dash 
it  in  pieces.  That  man  lias  not  a  (Chris- 
tian heart,  brethren,  w  ho  says,  "  I  do  not 
care  what  the  world  is  when  I  am  gone 
from  it."  He  lias  no  Christian  feeling  iit 
all  within  him,  M'ho  would  not  rejoice  to 
look  around  him  and  say,  "  That  world  of 
sin  and  misery  is  gone.  Satan  has  lost  a 
kingdom.  It  can  dishonor  my  God  nc 
more."    "  The  morning  stars,"  we  are  tolc^ 


CHRIST  PROCLAIMING  HIS  APPROACHING  ADVENT. 


13 


"sang  together"  when  the  foundations  of 
the  eartli  were  laid,  "  and  all  the  sons  of 
God  shouted  for  joy  ;"  but  there  will  he  a 
louder  shout  among  them  when  the  earth 
is  destroyed,  and  a  more  joyful  song. 

2.  The  believer  desires  the  coming  of  his 
Lord,  hecause  he  desires  exceedingly  to  see 
him  put  on  his  glory. 

There  is  a  feeling  in  every  godly  soul, 
of  which  no  other  soul  knows  any  thing. 
It  is  a  feeling  of  intense  love  for  its  Saviour  : 
not  a  cold  reverence  merely,  or  a  high  ad- 
miration, nor  even  a  warm,  glowing  grati- 
tude ;  it  goes  beyond  all  these.  It  is  a 
feeling  of  oneness  with  Christ ;  something 
within  us,  which  makes  his  name  and  his 
glory  verv  dear  to  us,  and  causf  s  us  to  he 
deeply  affected  by  every  thing  that  we  know 
affects  him.  Love  an  earthly  friend  in- 
tensely, a  child  or  brother,  a  husband  or 
wife,  and  you  have  the  affection  I  mean. 
Now  put  a  feeling  like  this  for  the  Lord 
Jesus  into  your  hearts,  and  it  is  easy  to  say 
whv  you  will  wish  for  his  appearing.  lie 
will  come,  you  will  tell  us,  in  his  glory. 
He  will  come  to  be  glorified  and  admired  ; 
therefore  we  long  for  his  coming.  O  how 
was  he  treated  the  last  time  he  came  here  ! 
and  how  have  his  name,  and  his  gospel, 
and  his  people,  been  treated  ever  since ! 
But  yet  a  little,  and  they  who  have  dishon- 
ored him,  shall  dishonor  him  no  more. 
The  very  men  who  despised  and  rejected 
him;  the  men  who  scourged  and  spat  on 
him  ;  the  men  who  now,  if  they  could, 
would  tear  him  from  his  throne;  tiiey  shall 
all,  yea,  and  the  hosts  of  hell  with  them, 
they  shall  all  fall  down  before  him,  all  he 
forced  to  say  of  him,  "  He  is  indeed  the 
Lord."  And  what  will  his  own  people  say 
of  him  in  that  triumphant  hour  ?  O  to  hear 
their  song  when  it  first  bursts  from  their 
lips  after  they  are  gattiercd  round  him,  and 
the  songs  of  the  wondering  angels  as  they 
first  look  on  them  standing  all  pure  and 
glorious  in  one  vast  assembly  before  his 
throne!  And  then  to  witness  the  joy  that 
will  break  forth  from  his  own  soul  as  he 
says  at  last,  "  It  is  finished.  The  work  is 
done.  Those  that  my  Father  gave  me,  I 
have  kept ;  not  one  of  them  is  lost.  They 
are  all  here,  and  without  a  sorrow  or  a  sin 
among  them  all."  Can  we  think  of 
this  scene,  and  not  say  with  this  apostle, 
"  Amen,  amen ;  even  so ;  come,  Lord 
Jesus  ?" 

3.  And  once  again.     The  believer  de- 


sires the  coming  of  Christ,  beeau.sv  he  de- 
sires to  be  more  closely  utiiird  to  him. 

Here  he  is  one  w  illi  hiin,  and  he  feels  at 
times  that  he  is  so  ;  but  even  in  tin  se  happy 
.seasons,  he  feels  also  that  he  might  be 
nearer  to  him,  and  there  are  other  seasons 
when  he  is  ready  to  think  himself  utterly 
separated  from  him.  He  cannot  see  him  ; 
he  cannot  find  him.  "  O  that  I  knew 
wl)ere  I  miszht  find  him  !"  he  says.  "  O 
tlie  hope  of  Israel,"  he  cries,  "  the  Saviour 
tiiereof  in  time  of  trouble,  why  shouldest 
thou  l)e  as  a  stranger  in  the  land,  and  as  a 
wayfaring  man  that  turneth  aside  to  tarry 
for  a  night  ?"  Ask  him  to  describe  his  con- 
dition in  the  world,  he  will  generally  say 
with  St.  Paul,  "  While  we  are  at  isome  in 
the  body,  we  are  absent  from  the  Lord  ;" 
it  is  a  state  of  absence  and  distance  from 
him  whom  his  soul  most  loves.  The  church 
is  already  the  bride  of  Christ,  but  then  at 
present  she  is  no  more  than  betrothed  and 
contracted  to  him.  And  this  is  one  reason 
why  she  longs  for  his  coming — it  will  be 
the  perfecting  of  her  espousals  with  him. 
He  will  come  as  her  Bridegroom  to  take 
her  to  his  home.  "  Then  indeed,"  says 
the  soul,  "shall  I  feel  that  he  is  mine.  Of- 
ten and  often  now  I  have  no  mure  enjoy- 
ment of  him,  than  as  though  I  had  nothing 
to  do  with  him  ;  and  when  lie  does  draw 
near  to  me  and  I  do  hold  some  blessed 
communion  with  him,  there  is  a  veil  still 
between  us.  I  see  him  not,  and  his  visit  is 
soon  over.  lie  comes  to  gladden  me  for  a 
moment,  and  the  next  moment  he  is  gone. 
Rut  when  he  once  a})pears  in  his  glory, 
farewell  forever  to  veils,  and  distance,  and 
separations.  I  shall  see  his  face ;  I  shall 
have  a  fiiU  and  constant  and  everlasting 
fruition  of  him  ;  forever  and  forever  I  shall 
be  with  him.  What  shall  I  say  then,  when 
he  tells  me  he  is  coming  quickly  ?  What 
can  I  say,  but.  Amen ;  even  so ;  come, 
Lord,  quickly  ?" 

For  these  three  reasons  then  the  believer 
looks  forward  with  joy  to  his  Redeemer's 
advent.  He  desires  it  for  the  w  orld's  sake, 
that  an  end  may  be  put  to  its  crimes  and 
miseries  ;  for  his  Lord's  sake,  that  Jiis  glo- 
ry may  be  full  ;  and  for  his  own  sake,  that 
he  may  see  his  Lord,  and  be,  in  I oiiy  and 
in  spirit,  ever  with  him. 

And  now  let  me  say.  Christian  brrthren, 
it  vould  he  rvell  for  us  to  he  every  hour  in 
this  state  of  erpee'ation  and  desire.  It  is 
exactly  that  frame  of  mind,  which  we  need 


14 


CHRIST  PROCLAIMING  HIS  APPROACIll^U  Au\E^'k. 


amcng  the  trials  of  life,  yes,  and  among  its 
teniptaiions  also.  Were  it  constantly  ours, 
we  sliould  not  be  so  ready  to  complain  of 
our  liglit  afllictions,  nor  should  we  be  so 
often  falling  into  evil.  A  man  looking  up- 
ward lor  ills  Lord,  is  in  a  safe  as  well  as 
in  a  blessed  state.  He  can  withstand  sin, 
if  any  man  can  withstand  it,  and  he  can 
bear  trouble,  if  any  man  can  bear  it. 

And  ?tr  maybe  in  (his  stale  of  mind.  It 
is  an  attainable,  as  well  as  a  desirable 
state.  We  need  not  the  heavenly  visions 
which  John  saw,  to  bring  us  into  it.  The 
sound  of  our  Master's  voice,  or  a  sight  of 
our  Mast(  r's  glory,  is  not  necessary  to  pro- 
duce it.  It  comes  from  a  simple  faith  in 
him  as  an  all-sufficient  Saviour.  Would 
we  have  it  \  We  must  look  at  him  on  the 
cross  in  order  to  get  u,  and  look  at  him  as 
one  who  offered  there  a  complete,  and  glo- 
rious, and  accepted  atonement  for  our  sins. 
And  we  must  do  this  frequently,  and  go  on 
doing  it,  till  we  do  it  almost  unconsciously 
and  habitually  ;  till  faith  in  Christ  grows 
strong  witliin  us,  and  becomes  hope  in 
Christ,  and  a  hope  that  settles  into  confi- 
dence. A  self-righteous  man  can  never 
have  a  real  desire  for  his  Lord's  coming,  a 
man  with  an  accusing  conscience  cannot 
have  it,  nor  can  an  unbelieving,  a  despond- 
ing, or  a  doubting  man.  None  can  have 
it,  but  those  who  are  seeking  in  downright 
earnest  the  salvation  of  their  souls  through 
the  blood  of  Jesus,  and  who  believe  that 
through  his  blood  they  have  found  it. 
You  may  tell  me  that  a  faith  like  this  is 
very  uncommon  in  the  world.  I  know  it 
is,  brethren.  Would  that  it  were  not  ! 
But  if  you  are  without  it,  a  guilty  malefac- 
tor might  as  well  attempt  to  long  for  the 
coming  of  his  judge,  or  the  worn-out  mari- 
ner in  a  shattered  bark,  far  from  a  port, 
long  for  the  hurricane  and  the  storm,  as 
you  long  for  the  coming  of  your  Lord. 

And  I  may  add  too,  that  if  we  are  really 
Christ's  true  disciples,  we  ought,  to  be  in  this 
state  of  mind. 

We  look  forward  to  the  second  coming 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  as  a  solemn  and  awful 
event,  and  such  it  will  doubtless  he  ;  but 
see  in  what  light  this  apostle  regarded 
it — as  an  event  to  be  desired.  And  see,  in 
the  nineteenth  chapter  of  this  book,  in  what 
light  the  "  great  multitude"  in  heaven  re- 
gard it — as  a  most  joyful  event.  It  is  a 
marriage,  they  say,  a  blissful  meeting  and 
union  between  the  Lord  and   his   ciiureh. 


and  they  call  on  one  another  to  be  glai  and 
rejoice  in  it.  And  Christ  himself  speaks 
of  it  in  exactly  the  same  terms.  This,  he 
says,  is  the  cry  that  shall  announce  his  ap- 
pearing, "Behold,  the  Bridegroom  cometh." 
And  wliat  he  wants  from  his  people  is,  that 
they  should  recognise  him  in  this  character 
as  they  think  of  his  appearing,  that  they 
should  long  to  welcome  him  as  a  Bride- 
groom, that  they  should  be  prepared  to  en- 
ter into  his  feelings  and  participate  in  his 
delight.  "  Lift  up  your  heads  with  joy," 
he  says  to  them.  "  You  are  going  to  a 
marriage-feast,  and  you  must  go  there  not 
only  with  a  wedding-garment,  but  with  a 
wedding-spirit ;  with  a  heart  full  of  love 
towards  me  and  expectation  from  me  ;  with 
a  soul  that  can  glory  even  now  in  my  glo- 
ry, and  find  its  noblest  happiness  in  the 
contemplation  and  anticipation  of  my  joy." 
But  what  a  different  heart  is  this,  breth- 
ren, to  that  which  is  now  beating  within 
some  of  you  !  I  appeal  to  your  con- 
sciences. W^ere  you  told  that  this  very 
night  the  trumpet  should  sound  from  heav- 
en, and  you  be  called  on  to  meet  your 
descending  Lord,  would  the  tidings  be  wel- 
comed by  you  as  happy  tidings  ?  Or  were 
you  even  told  that  you  must  die  to-night, 
and  so  go  to  meet  him,  would  you  rejoice  1 
Would  you  at  once  say,  "  O  let  me  go  ? 
I  long  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ." 
Would  you  not  rather  cry  out,  "  O  let  me 
go  anywhere  rather  than  to  him  ?  I  will 
go  to  the  wildest  part  of  the  globe,  the 
burning  tropics  or  the  frozen  poles  ;  I  will 
live  in  the  gloomiest  habitation  in  the 
gloomiest  land  ;  I  will  never  again  see  the 
light  of  day,  and,  if  it  must  be  so,  I  will 
never  hear  again  the  voice  of  man ;  but 
that  summons  into  my  Saviour's  presence, 
let  me  not  hear  that  yet ;  that  eternity 
where  he  dwells,  let  me  not  go  there  ;  that 
Bridegroom,  save  me  from  meeting  him. 
There  is  not  a  being  in  the  whole  universe, 
from  whom  I  so  much  wish  to  flee.  The 
day  of  death,  the  day  of  judgment,  a  day 
of  joy  ?  O  no  ;  it  is  to  me  a  day  of  terror. 
I  should  rejoice  were  such  a  day  never  to 
arrive."  And  this  state  of  feeling  too 
plainly  stamps  your  character.  It  proves 
almost  as  clearly  as  the  most  ungodly  tem- 
pers or  unholy  life,  that  you  are  not  the 
redeemed  of  the  Lord  ;  that  as  yet  there  is 
no  communion  or  fellowship  between  iiim 
and  }ou.  "  Surely,"  he  says,  "  I  e«nme 
quickly;"    and    what   is    your    answer? 


THE  LORD  COMING  TO  HIS  TEMPLE. 


15 


"  Lord,  kcpp  awav  :  we  dread  thy  coming  !" 
O  brclliren,  this  will  never  do.  'Jo  die  in 
such  a  state  as  this,  is  to  wake  up  in  an- 
guish. To  meet  our  coming  Lord  in  such 
a  state,  is  more  terrible  than  your  fears  can 
paint  it.  And  yet,  in  this  state  or  in  a 
worse,  you  will  die  and  you  will  meet  him, 
unless  you  flee  to  him  now  as  a  mighty 
Saviour.  It  is  sin,  that  makes  death  and 
judgm'  nt  fearful  to  you.  That  is  the  great 
evil  which  stands  in  your  way  to  hope  and 
happiness  ;  and  how  is  it  to  be  removed  ? 
It  never  will  be  removed  till,  as  miserable 
sinners,  you  cast  yourselves  down  before 
your  once  crucified  Lord,  and  implore  him 
to  remove  it ;  to  clothe  you  in  his  righteous- 
ness and  cleanse  you  in  his  blood. 


SERMON  in. 


THE  THIRD  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT. 
THE  LORD  CO.MING  TO  HIS  TEMPLE. 

Malaciii  III.  L — "  Behold,  I  will  send  wy  mes- 
senger, and  he  shall  prepare  the  way  before  me  ; 
and  the  Lord  ichom  ye  seek,  shall  suddenly 
come  to  his  temple,  even  the  Messenger  of  the 
covenant,  whom  i/e  delight  in.  Behold,  he  shall 
come,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts." 

The  predictions  which  announced  to  the 
ancient  church  its  coming  Saviour,  may 
seem  now  to  have  done  their  work.  Their 
importance  and  usefulness  ceased,  we  may 
think,  with  their  fulfilment.  But  not  so  in 
fact.  There  is  still  much  in  them  to  inter- 
est, instruct,  and  delight  us.  "Come  see 
the  place  where  the  Lord  lay,"  said  the 
angel  to  the  women  after  his  resurrection. 
The  same  we  may  now  say  to  you  of  these 
fulfilled  propliecies.  They  are  to  us  as 
empty  sepulchres  which  the  Lord  has  done 
with,  but  who,  with  a  Christian  heart,  can 
contemplate  them  without  wonder  and  joy  ? 

Here  before  us  is  a  two-fold  prediction. 
We  have  a  forerunner  of  Christ  announced 
in  it,  and  then  Christ  himself. 

I.  Tiie  text  announces  a  forerunner  of 
Christ.  And  it  tells  us  two  things  concern- 
ing him — his  mission  from  God,  and  the 
work  he  is  to  perform. 

1.  "  Rehold,  I  will  send  my  messenger" 
— there  is  liis  d/i-ine  mission. 

We  know  who  is  meant.  Our  I>ord  him- 
self refers  to  this  passage,  and  says  that  it 


points  to  John  the  Baptist.  And  observe 
the  honor  it  j)Uts  on  him.  It  not  only  de- 
.scri!)cs  him  as  in  tlie  mind  of  God  before 
his  appearance,  and  as  specially  appointed 
by  God  to  his  office,  but  it  makes  him,  like 
his  great  Master  himself,  the  subject  of 
prophecy,  and  an  object  of  expectation  for 
ages  to  the  church.  And  it  is  remarkable 
that  Christ  himself,  in  quoting  tliis  proph- 
ecy, seems  to  have  the  dignity  of  John  es- 
pecially in  his  thoughts,  for  he  immediately 
afterwards  speaks  of  it ;  "  Verily  I  say 
unto  you,  among  them  that  are  born  of  wo- 
men, there  hath  not  risen  a  greater  than 
John  the  Baptist." 

It  was  however  no  personal  pre-eminence, 
that  so  peculiarly  distinguished  this  man. 
We  are  not  to  suppose  that  he  was  holier 
than  the  prophets  before  him,  or  more  faith- 
ful and  zealous.  No,  he  was  nearer  to 
Christ ;  he  testified  more  plainly  and  fully 
of  him.  Instead  of  looking  on  him  through 
a  succession  of  centuries,  and  speaking  of 
him  as  one  that  should  come,  he  saw  him 
face  to  face,  and  declared  he  was  come. 
This  gave  him  his  pre-eminence.  Our 
Lord  accordingly  adds,  "  He  that  is  least 
in  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  the  gospel-dis- 
pensation, "  is  greater  than  he."  The  low- 
est  minister  that  now  names  the  name  of 
Christ,  excels  John,  just  as  John  excelled 
those  before  him.  He  understands  the 
gospel  better ;  more  of  it  is  revealed  to 
him  ;  he  can  testify  to  his  f  llow-sinners 
more  clearly  and  fully  of  the  grae«^  of  God. 

2.  Observe  too  ihe  work  this  forerunner 
was  sent  to  perform  ;  "  He  shall  [utpare  the 
way  before  me." 

It  is  a  common  practice  in  eastern  coun- 
tries, to  send  on  a  messenger  before  any 
great  personage  to  make  knov.  n  his  ap- 
proach, to  remove  all  obstructions  out  of 
his  way,  and  to  prepare  the  jv  ojile  he  is 
coming  to  for  a  due  reception  of  him.  And 
thus  came  John,  sustaining  the  character 
and  doing  the  work  of  the  herald  ofChrLst, 
"  Thou,  child,"  said  Zacharias,  his  father, 
to  him  as  soon  as  he  was  born,  "  shalt  be 
called  the  prophet  of  the  Highest,  for  thou 
shalt  go  before  the  face  of  tho  Lord  !o  pre- 
pare his  ways."  And  Isaiah,  long  l>cfore 
he  was  born,  had  predicted  the  same  con- 
cerning him  ;  "  The  voice  of  him  that  cri- 
eth  in  the  wilderness,  Prepare  ye  the  way 
of  the  Lord  ;  make  straight  in  the  drst-rt  a 
highway  for  our  God."  The  meaning  of 
both  declarations  is,  that  the  preaching  of 


16 


THE  LORD  COMING  TO  HIS  TEMPLE. 


the  Baptist  should  not  only  lead  men  to  ex- 
pect the  Messiah,  but  should  prepare  their 
hearts  to  receive  him.  And  it  really  bore 
this  character. 

What  was  it,  brethren,  that  first  led  some 
of  you  to  seek  Chri.st  and  welcome  him  ? 
Was  it  not  a  consciousness  of  sin,  a  sense 
of  God's  anger,  a  dread  of  merited  destruc- 
tion ?  Now  examine  John's  preaching, 
and  you  will  find  it  calculated  to  produce 
just  these  ctrtcts.  He  went  about  Juda;a, 
as  the  prophet  Jonah  had  before  gone  about 
the  devoted  Nineveh,  crying  everywhere, 
"  Repent,  repent  ye."  There  is  a  sermon 
of  liis  in  the  third  chapter  of  St.  Matthew, 
and  wliat  is  the  burden  of  it  ?  The  dan- 
ger the  people  were  in,  their  nearness  to 
the  wrath  to  come,  the  utter  insufficiency 
of  all  their  spiritual  privileges  to  deliver 
them.  "  The  axe,"  he  says,  "  is  laid  unto 
the  root  of  the  trees."  There  is  One  com- 
ing, "  whose  fan  is  in  his  hand,  and  he  will 
throughly  purge  his  floor  ;"  "  he  will  burn 
up  the  chaff  with  unquenchable  fire." 
You  say  to  us  sometimes,  brethren,  "  Preach 
to  us  of  the  love  of  God,  of  the  Saviour's 
grace  and  heaven's  blessedness;"  and  O 
that  we  had  nothing  else  to  preach  of!  but 
some  of  you  are  guilty  sinners,  and  do  not 
know  it :  many  of  you  are  perishing  in 
your  sins,  and  do  not  feel  it.  If  we  would 
deliver  our  own  souls  or  save  yours,  we 
must  often  preach  to  you  of  a  broken  law, 
of  coming  wjrath,  a  descending  Judge,  and 
an  opening  hell.  There  must  be  trembling 
sinners  in  this  place  and  broken  hearts. 
Then,  and  not  till  then,  the  way  of  Christ 
will  be  prepared  here  ;  then  his  gospel  will 
be  really  valued  here,  and  he  himself  w^el- 
comed  and  received. 

II.  We  find  next  in  this  passage  a  pre- 
diction of  Christ ;  "  The  Lord  whom  ye 
seek,  shall  suddenly  come  to  his  temple, 
even  the  Messenger  of  the  covenant,  whom 
ye  delight  in.  Bcliold,  he  shall  come,  saith 
the  Lord  of  hosts."  And  here  also  we 
liave  two  points  to  notice. 

1.    The  namrs  applied  to  Christ. 

lie.  is  "  t/ic  Lord,"  the  Lord  of  the  tem- 
ple. Mark  the  em]>lKific  pronoun — he 
"  shall  come  to  his  temple." 

In  what  a  .short  and  simple  way  does  the 
FToly  Spirit  thus  assert  tlie  Redeemer's 
Godhead  !  He  is  the  same,  he  says,  for 
whom  the  tabernacle  was  pitched  in  the 
wilderness,  and  to  whom  tlie  mighty  struc- 
ture in  Jerusalem  was  reared:  the  same 


who  filled  that  structure  with  his  glory  at 
its^  dedication,  and  afterwards  dwelt  and 
shone  forth  in  it  above  the  mercy-seat.  He 
is  tlie  same  that  all  Israel  bowed  down  to 
in  its  courts,  before  whom  the  sacrifice  was 
offered,  and  the  incense  smoked,  and  the 
prayer  went  up,  and  the  psalm  rose. 
'•  The  Lord  of  the  temple  shall  come,"  says 
the  Spirit,  Jehovah,  the  Holy  One  of  Israel, 
the  one  only  living  and  true  God. 

And  go  back  again  to  the  first  clause  of 
the  text.  The  same  great  truth  may  be 
discovered  there  also.  "  He  shall  prepare 
the  way  before  me,"  says  the  speaker  ; 
and  who  is  the  speaker  ?  "  The  Lord  of 
hosts,"  says  the  end  of  the  verse.  And 
whose  way  is  John  to  prepare  ?  "  Mine," 
says  Christ  in  other  places  ;  "  it  is  my  way 
that  is  to  be  made  ready  in  that  desert 
world."  The  three  evangelists  who  quote 
the  words,  all  give  them  this  application, 
Matt.  xi.  10  ;  Mark  i.  2 ;  Luke  vii.  27. 
What  then  can  be  more  clear,  than  that 
Christ  the  Messiah,  and  the  Lord  of  liosts, 
are  one  and  the  same?  Blessed  be  God 
that  this  glorious  truth  so  runs  through  his 
word !  We  meet  it  where  we  look  not  for 
it.  O  may  we  feel  more  and  more  the  pow- 
er  and  comfort  of  it ! 

But  here  is  another  name  applied  to 
Christ,  a  lowly  one — "  the  Messenger  of  the 
coienant." 

John  was  a  messenger,  and  now  the  Lord 
Jesus  also,  in  his  turn,  is  called  a  messen- 
ger, and  for  this  reason — he  sustains  in  re- 
lation to  the  covenant  much  the  same  char- 
acter as  that  which  John  sustained  towards 
him.  He  is  God's  Servant,  sent  into  our 
world  on  an  errand  connected  Nvith  God's 
covenant  of  grace. 

You  know,  brethren,  what  this  covenant 
is.  It  is  a  gracious  term  applied  by  Jeho- 
vah  to  the  promises  he  has  given  jiis  people 
to  bless  and  save  them.  It  shows  tliem  the 
stability  of  these  promises,  and  the  fixed 
purpose  of  God  to  perform  them.  I  le  binds 
liimself  by  it  to  perform  them  ;  it  is  a  ])ledg- 
iiig  of  his  glorious  elMiacter  for  their  ac- 
complishment. And  O  iiow  rich  are  they 
and  precious! — all  needful  things  in  time, 
and  all  the  soul  can  enjoy  or  liold  in  eter- 
nity, for  every  sinner  wlio  accepts  the  well- 
beloved  Son  of  (!od  for  iiis  Saviour  ! 

And  Christ  is  called  the  Messenger  of 
this  covenant,  because  he  it  is  wlio  makes 
it  known.  He  first  openly  proclaimed  it, 
and  it  is  still  he,  who,  by  liis  word  and  niin- 


THE  LORD  COMING  TO  HIS  TEMPLE. 


17 


tstors  and  Spirit,  reveals  to  us  the  blessings 
it  contains.  He  also,  in  his  liuman  nature, 
is  the  instrument  employed  by  Jehovah  in 
carryinnf  it  into  eflect.  By  him  he  accom- 
plishes its  great  designs,  imparts  its  mer- 
cies, and  makes  good  its  promises.  "  The 
law  was  given  by  Moses,"  says  John  ;  Mo- 
sps  may  be  considered  as  the  messenger  of 
the  first  covenant ;  but  the  second  covenant, 
the  covenant  of  "  grace  and  truth,  came 
by  Jesus  Christ."  This  was  too  glorious 
a  thing  to  be  intrusted  to  a  prophet  or  an 
angel.  "  Prophets  shall  darkly  foretell  it," 
says  Clirist ;  "  the  angels  shall  talk  of  it 
and  sing  of  it ;  but  I  myself  will  go  down 
to  that  fallen  world,  and  proclaim  it.  I 
now  will  be  the  messenger."  And  into  our 
world  he  came,  the  Servant  of  Jehovah, 
revealing  his  purposes,  and  manifesting 
wherever  he  came  his  mercy  and  love. 
Hence  St.  John  says  again,  "  No  man  hath 
seen  God  at  any  time ;  tlie  only  begotten 
Son  v.hich  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father, 
he  hath  declared  him." 

And  just  observe  the  happy  blending  to- 
gether in  these  two  names  of  the  Redeem- 
er's greatness  and  lowliness.  He  is  Lord 
Df  the  temple,  but  yet  a  Messenger ;  the 
Lord  of  hosts,  and  yet  a  Servant.  And 
something  like  this  is  continually  occurring 
in  the  prophets,  especially  in  Isaiah.  Is 
the  Messiah  "  a  Child  born  and  a  Son  giv- 
en ?"  In  the  next  moment  he  is  "  the  ever- 
lasting Father  and  the  mighty  God."  Is 
he  a  Shepherd,  feeding  his  (lock  with  a 
shepherd's  care  and  tenderness,  "  carrying 
the  lambs  in  his  bosom,  and  gently  leading 
those  that  are  with  young  ?"  He  is  imme- 
diately described  as  "  measuring  the  wa- 
ters in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  spanning  the 
heavens,  weighing  the  mountains  in  scales 
and  the  hills  in  a  balance."  "  All  nations 
before  him"  are  said  to  be  "  as  nothing, 
and  they  are  counted  to  him  less  than  noth- 
ing and  vanity."  And  thus  the  Spirit 
teaches  us  how  to  look  on  our  Lord — with 
a  thrilling  reverence,  and  yet  with  a  fear- 
less confidence  ;  to  walk  with  him  as  a  com- 
panion, and  guide,  and  familiar  friend,  and 
yet  to  be  so  impressed  with  his  greatness, 
as  to  deem  it  a  wonder  we  can  walk  with 
him  at  all  ;  to  come  boldly  to  his  throne  as 
though  we  were  coming  into  a  father's  or 
a  brother's  presence,  and  then  to  fall  down 
before  him  on  his  throne,  as  creatures  un- 
worthy to  behold  his  face.  "  The  Lord's 
delight,"  we  read,  "  is  in  them  that  fear 
3 


him,  in  those  that  hope  in  his  mercy  ;"  and 
in  this  way,  among  others,  he  works  in  us 
by  his  Spirit  the  hope  and  fear  he  delights 
in. 

2.  Another  thing  to  be  noticed  in  this 
prediction,  is  the  aitpearing  of  Christ  m  our 
world — the  place  of  his  appearing,  the  man- 
ner, and  the  certainty  of  it. 

Mark  the  place-^he  shall  come  to  "  his 
temple." 

In  the  la.st  three  of  the  prophets,  Haggai, 
Zechariah,  and  Malachi,  we  read  often  of 
the  temple.  The  reason  is,  at  the  time 
they  wrote,  it  was  much  in  men's  thoughts. 
The  first  prophesied  to  stir  up  the  Jews  to 
rebuild  the  temple  ;  the  second  wrote  while 
it  was  building,  to  encourage  them  to  pro- 
ceed ;  the  third  after  it  was  finished,  to  cen- 
sure the  people  for  profaning  it.  In  their 
predictions  therefore  of  the  Messiah,  the 
temple  is  often  mixed  up,  and  these  predic- 
tions are  thus  made  to  correspond  with 
the  general  character  of  their  preaching. 
"You  make  light  of  this  sacred  building," 
said  Malachi ;  "  you  pollute  and  profane 
it ;  but  the  Lord  Jehovah  honors  it,  and 
will  one  day  come  to  it."  And  come  to  it 
he  did.  Thither  he  was  brought  in  his 
very  infancy.  There  old  Simeon  clasped 
him  in  his  arms,  and  with  joyful  lips  ac- 
knowledged him  as  the  "glory  of  Israel." 
We  read  of  him  there  in  his  boyhood, 
lingering  among  the  doctors.  There  he 
preached  many  of  his  sermons  after  he  be- 
gan his  ministry,  and  wrought  many  of  his 
wonderful  works.  There  also  on  two  oc- 
casions he  laid  bare  his  greatness.  "  This 
is  my  Father's  house,"  he  cried,  and  swept 
from  its  hallowed  courts  with  his  single 
arm  the  dismayed  multitudes  that  were 
profaning  it.  As  he  stood  alone  on  these 
two  occasions,  when  the  work  was  done,  in 
calm  but  fearful  majesty,  no  one  daring  to 
touch  him,  a  thoughtful  Jew  must  surely 
have  discovered  in  him  something  more 
than  human.  He  must  have  been  ready 
to  take  up  the  language  of  this  prophecy 
and  say,  "  The  Lord  is  indeed  come  to  his 
temple." 

And  mark  the  predicted  manner  of  his 
appearing — "  suddenly." 

The  Messiah  was  generally  expected  by 
the  Jewish  nation  at  the  time  when  he 
came,  but  he  was  not  expected  in  the  form 
and  manner  in  which  he  appeared.  Their 
notions  of  him  were  all  low  ami  eartlily. 
Had  any  one  told  them  that  he  was  about  to 


18 


THE  LORD  COMING  TO  HIS  TEMPLE. 


enter  his  temple,  they  would  have  looked 
for  him  at  the  head  of  conquering  armies 
and  shouting  multitudes ;  or  else,  if  their 
thoughts  rose  higher,  they  would  have  ex- 
pected the  heavens  to  be  rent,  and  a  chariot 
of  blazing  glory  to  bring  him  to  the  earth. 
When  therefore  the  infant  Jesus  was  car- 
ried into  the  temple  as  a  lowly  babe  by 
Jowly  peasants,  he  came,  as  it  were,  sud- 
denly upon  them,  unlocked  for  and  un- 
known ;  in  an  hour  that  they  thought  not 
of,  and  in  a  character  they  did  not  antici- 
pate. 

This  scripture  declares  also  the  certainiy 
of  his  advent.  To  strengthen  the  promise, 
there  is  a  repetition  of  the  prediction  ;  "  Be- 
hold, he  shall  come,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts." 

Many  hundred  years  had  now  passed 
since  (rod  had  first  given  to  Abraham  the 
promise  of  a  Saviour,  and  doubtless  many 
of  Abraham's  children  had  often  wondered 
why  the  Saviour  so  long  promised  had  not 
come  ;  but  these  rolling  centuries,  though 
they  had  delayed  his  coming,  had  not 
changed  the  divine  purpose.  The  Lord 
was  still  of  the  same  mind.  None  had 
turned  him,  and  none  could  turn  him.  His 
language  still  was,  "  He  shall  come."  In 
his  own  time,  he  says,  he  will  send  forth  a 
Deliverer. 

And  now,  brethren,  let  me  put  to  you 
three  questions. 

What  reception  have  you  given  to  this 
heaven-descended  Saviour  ? 

Look  again  to  the  text.  I  might  have 
gone  on  with  it,  and  told  you  that  it  con- 
tains, besides  a  prediction  of  John  and  an- 
other of  Christ,  a  description  of  Christ's  peo- 
ple. It  points  them  out  as  men  who  seek 
this  Lord  of  the  temple,  and  delight  in  this 
Messenger  of  the  covenant.  He  is  welcome 
to  them  beyond  all  telling,  and  precious  be- 
yond all  price.  Are  you,  brethren,  men 
of  this  character  ?  Have  you  ever,  with 
trembling  knees  and  a  broken  heart,  sought 
a  Saviour  ?  Has  there  ever  been  a  period 
in  your  history,  in  which  you  have  felt  you 
must  find  one  ?  Would  you  even  now  sac- 
rifice all  the  world  to  see  yourselves  par- 
doned, and  accepted,  and  safe  in  Christ  ? 
And  do  you  delight  in  him  ?  really  and 
deeply  delight  in  him  ?  Whence  conies 
your  chief  happiness — from  heaven  or 
earth  ?  from  man  or  Christ  ?  Whom  do 
you  love  best  and  rejoice  in  most — some 
fellow-worm  or  the  everlasting  Jesus  ?  If 
the  everlasting  Jesus,  O  let  a  few  more 


dark  years  run  their  course,  and  how  will 
your  inmost  souls  then  delight  in  him  ! 
"  My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord,"  cried 
Mary  with  a  burst  of  joy,  as  her  friend  talked 
to  her  of  the  coming  Christ ;  "  my  spirit 
hath  rejoiced  in  God  my  Saviour."  But 
O  the  tide  of  joy  that  will  flow  into  your 
hearts,  when  your  feet  stand  in  heaven,  and 
you  with  your  own  eyes  behold  your  Lord  ! 
Now  you  know  something  of  what  delight 
in  him  means,  or  think  you  know ;  but 
what  is  it  ?  No  more  like  what  you  will 
then  feel,  than  an  uncertain,  shallow  rivu- 
let is  like  the  swelling  Nile  or  the  fathom- 
less sea. 

With  lohai  feelings  and  expectations  do  you 
come  up  to  this  house  of  the  Lord  ? 

The  temple  at  Jerusalem  has  long  since 
been  destroyed,  and  the  Lord  of  that  tem- 
ple, in  his  bodily  presence,  has  left  our 
world  ;  but  he  has  still  temples  here.  He 
deems  every  place  his  house,  where  his 
name  is  recorded  and  his  gospel  published  ; 
and  you  remember  his  promise,  "  I  will 
come  unto  thee,  and  I  will  bless  thee."  He 
also  remembers  this  promise  ;  yea,  he  ful- 
fils it.  Sabbath  after  sabbath  he  comes 
into  our  churches  as  really  as  he  entered 
his  temple  of  old.  His  glory  is  seen  in 
them,  his  voice  heard,  his  power  felt,  his 
goodness  tasted,  the  savor  of  his  name  shed 
abroad.  There  his  people  sometimes  re- 
joice in  him,  just  as  old  Simeon  rejoiced 
when  he  held  him  in  his  arms  at  Jerusa- 
lem ;  they  feel  as  happy,  and  could  as  wil- 
lingly leave  all  and  die. 

Brethren,  is  this  your  object  in  coming 
up  to  this  church  ?  Do  you  come  here  in 
the  hope  that  the  Lord  of  this  house  will 
come  here  with  you,  and  that  you  may 
spiritually  see  him  ?  Have  you  ever  known 
here  what  spiritual  communion  with  an  un- 
seen Saviour  means,  and  do  'you  long  to 
know  it  again  ?  To  bring  Christ  and  the 
soul  together — that  is  the  one  great  design 
of  churches,  and  ministers,  and  sermons, 
and  ordinances.  You  are  to  come  here 
seeking  Christ ;  we  ministers  are  to  come, 
that,  in  the  Spirit's  power,  we  may  prepare 
your  hearts  to  receive  him.  He  is  a  poor 
minister,  he  is  good  for  nothing,  who  never 
makes  you  feel  here  that  you  need  Christ ; 
and  think  what  you  will  of  him,  he  is  a 
good  minister  and  a  faithful  one,  who  dis- 
turbs your  consciences,  and  forces  you  to 
feel  that  you  must  find  Christ  or  perish. 
May  the  Lord  of  this  house  incline  every 


CHRIST  A  REFUGE. 


19 


one  of  you  to  seek  him  !  Oh  that  he  would 
fill  this  place  with  men  that  de]i<rht  in  him  ! 

And  one  question  more — Hoir  .stand  you. 
prepared  for  l.hc  future  coming  of  the  Lord  ? 

Many  of  the  prophecies  of  scripture  have 
a  double  beaimg.  This  probably  has.  It 
seems  meant  to  be  a  standing  prophecy  to 
the  church.  To  the  ancient  church  it  pre- 
dicted the  first  advent  of  the  Messiah  ;  to 
us,  the  second.  And  this  accounts  for  the 
question  with  which  the  awe-struck  Ma- 
lachi  follows  up  his  prophecy.  He  does 
not  say  with  Isaiah,  "  Sing,  O  ye  heavens, 
for  the  Lord  hath  done  it."  He  does  not 
cry  out  with  Zacliarias,  "  Blessed  be  the 
Lord  Clod  of  Israel,  for  he  hath  visited  and 
redeemed  his  people."  No;  he  thinks  of 
a  descending  Judge  as  well  as  Saviour, 
and  says,  "  Who  may  abide  the  day  of  his 
coming,  and  who  shall  stand  when  he  ap- 
pearcth  ?"  He  goes  on  to  speak  of  the 
searching,  and  discriminating,  and  con- 
suming eifects  of  his  coming;  "  He  is  like 
a  refiner's  fire  and  like  fuller's  soap." 
And  this  in  some  measure  he  is  even  now. 
The  gospel  that  we  preach  to  you,  tries, 
and  distinguishes,  and  marks  you.  It  di- 
vides you  into  two  great  classes,  and,  in 
one  way  or  another,  it  often  makes  evident 
to  others,  and  perhaps  to  yourselves,  to 
which  of  these  classes  you  belong.  But 
O  the  heart-searching  scrutiny  of  that  day, 
when  tliis  scripture  shall  be  fully  accom- 
plished !  The  Lord  will  once  more  come 
suddenly  to  his  temple,  and  what  a  divi- 
sion will  he  make  among  us  then  I  what 
an  awful  severing !  every  man  appearing 
in  his  real  character  and  taking  his  right 
place  ;  some  on  this  side  the  throne,  some 
on  that ;  some  wondering  at  their  happi- 
ness,  and  eager  in  the  very  presence  of 
their  Judge  to  break  forth  into  the  song 
that  will  know  no  end,  others  shrinking 
with  horror  before  their  sentence  is  pro- 
nounced, and  feeling,  before  they  hear  it, 
a  terrible  despair. 

Brethren,  are  you  ready  for  this  day  ? 
Are  j'ou  prepared  to  meet  it  ?  Where 
will  you  be  when  it  comes,  and  the  great 
line  is  at  last  drawn  1  We  can  tell  you 
where  you  may  be.  O  blessed  truth ! 
there  is  not  a  sinner  among  you,  who  may 
not  now  Seek  and  find  in  the  Lord  Jesus  a 
willing  Saviour  ;  and  there  is  not  one  of 
us,  who  may  not  lift  up  his  head  with  joy 
w  hen  he  sees  him  on  his  throne,  and  take 
a   joyful   place   at  his  right  hand.     ^'  '■■n 


John,  the  forerunner  of  the  Messiah,  the 
preacher  of  repentance,  tells  you  this  or 
something  like  this.  Pointing  to  the  Lord 
Jesus,  he  says  to  you,  "  Behold  the  Lamb 
of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world."  And  what  can  we  say,  his  pre. 
sent  mes.sengers  and  servants  f  All  you 
can  wish  us.  Do  you  behold  him,  do  you 
believe  in  him,  and  he  will  most  surely 
take  away  your  sin.  You  may  as  peace- 
fully abide  his  coming,  as  though  you  were 
spotless  angels.  You  will  as  certainly 
stand  in  the  great  day  of  his  appearing,  as 
Abraham,  or  David,  or  Paul. 


SERMON  IV. 


THE    FOURTH    SUNDAY   IN    ADVENT. 
CHRIST  A  REFUGE. 

Isaiah  xx.xu.  2. — "  A  Man  shall  he  as  an  hiding 
place  from  the  wind,  and  a  covert  from,  the  tern. 
pest." 

This  was  once  prophecy,  it  is  now  fact. 
That  strange  thing  which'the  prophet  fore- 
told should  be,  is  actually  come  to  pass. 
He  is  looking  forward  to  a  day  of  gospel- 
grace  and  blessedness.  We  are  living  in 
that  day,  and  here  is  one  of  the  many  won. 
ders  of  grace  proclaimed  to  us  in  "it.  A 
Man  is  now  a  hiding  place  from  the  wind  ; 
there  is  a  covert  opened  to  us  from  every 
tempest.  Blessed  indeed  ate  all  they  who 
are  sheltered  in  it ! 

I.  We  are  reminded  here  of  our  dangers. 

These  are  set  forth  by  images  \\hich  we 
in  our  climate  can  only  half  understand. 
E.xcept  at  sea,  we  have  little  to  fear  from 
winds  and  tempests.  At  the  worst,  they 
are  inconveniences  to  us,  seldom  dangers. 
But  in  other  countries,  they  are  at  times 
the  causes  of  great  havoc.  A  few  years 
only  have  passed,  since  one  of  our  own 
colonies  was  turned  into  a  scene  of  com- 
plete desolation  by  their  violence.  The 
dwellings  of  the  inhabitants  were  scattered 
about  in  ruins,  and  the  produce  of  their 
fields  torn  up  and  destroyed.  In  Judaea, 
where  the  scriptures  were  written,  their 
effects  are  much  dreaded.  Tlie  country 
is  situated  near  the  dreary  regions  of  the 
Arabian  deserts.  Across  these  the  winds 
c.^ten  sweep  with  irresistible  furv    fetising 


20 


CHRIST  A  REFUGE. 


up  in  their  progress  lofty  columns  of  sand, 
which  they  drive  forward,  threatening  to 
o\erwhelm  the  affrighted  traveller.  And 
besides  these,  there  are  gentler  winds  some- 
tinifs  blowing  in  them,  that  are  almost  as 
fearful.  Hot  and  debilitating,  they  cannot 
be  breathed  without  much  suffering,  and 
instances,  it  is  said,  have  been  known,  in 
which  they  have  been  so  noxious  as  to  occa- 
sion death. 

The  latter  part  of  the  verse  shows  us, 
that  the  prophet  in  writing  it  had  a  scene  of 
this  kind  in  his  mind.  He  places  us  in  one 
of  these  dry,  dreary,  and  storm-troubled 
deserts.  "  There,"  he  says,  "  in  that 
raging  hurricane,  and  there  in  that  suf- 
focating, whhering  blast,  is  a  picture  of  the 
dangers  with  which  you  are  threatened. 
The  world  you  are  living  in  is  a  desert, 
a  waste  and  howling  one,  and  you  are  ex- 
posed, every  one  of  you,  to  its  winds  and 
tempests." 

And  is  not  this,  brethren,  a  true  picture 
of  our  situation  ?  Some  of  you  may  say 
yon  think  not,  but  who  are  you  that  say 
so  ?  The  young  among  you,  those  who 
know  very  little  of  the  world  and  very 
little  of  yourselves.  Wait  a  few  years, 
get  a  little  further  into  the  wilderness,  be- 
come better  acquainted  with  what  is  pass- 
ing in  it — it  is  well  if  you  do  not  find 
yourselves  ready  to  say,  "  Would  that 
we  had  never  entered  it !  Would  that 
we  could  escape  at  once  from  its  troubled 
scenes  !" 

•There  are  storms  of  outward  affliction 
for  us  in  the  world,  many  of  them  ;  as  soon 
as  one  is  laid  to  rest,  another  is  ready  to 
blow.  And  if  we  are  God's  servants,  he 
generally  leads  us  where  these  storms  blow 
the  most  frequently,  and  are  the  most  vio- 
lent. He  seems  to  direct  them  towards  us, 
and  to  give  them  fresh  po\\*or  and  fury  as 
they  ap[)roach  us.  Some  of  us  are  scarce- 
ly allowed  to  know  what  a  calm  means. 

And  thei-e  are  inward  storms  also,  storms 
of  conscience,  storms  of  temptation,  and  still 
worse  storms  than  any  of  these,  the  ragings 
of  our  own  corrupt  affections.  And  yet 
wliat  arc  all  these  ?  They  are  all  nothing 
compared  with  one  storm  yet  to  come. 
There  is  the  wrath  of  God  awaiting  us. 
We  are  sinners,  and  God  lias  denounced 
his  anger  against  sinners.  Tlie  storms  of 
life,  keen  as  we  find  them,  do  not  satisfy 
his  awful  justice  ;  there  is  another  tempest 
to  beat  on  u&  when  we  die,  and  long  after 


we  are  dead,  a  pounng  out  withoi;  mea- 
sure of  God's  righteous  indignation  against 
our  sins,  an  everlasting  storm  of  devouring 
fire.  O  how  strangely,  brethren,  do  we 
lose  sight  of  this  !  VVe  ministers  preach  to 
you  for  weeks  together  as  though  the  trou- 
bles of  this  life  were  all  you  would  evei 
have  to  bear,  and  you  expect  us  to  preach 
so.  You  talk  one  to  another  as  though 
your  worldly  losses  and  disappointments, 
your  family  and  private  troubles  were  your 
only  troubles ;  but  as  surely  as  there  is 
the  grave  before  us,  there  are  heavier  trou- 
bles before  us  than  any  we  have  yet  expe- 
rienced. We  forget  the  wrath  to  come. 
May  the  living  God  cure  us  of  this  forget- 
fulness !  May  he  lead  us,  one  and  all,  to 
look  around  for  a  shelter  before  the  great 
tempest  of  his  fury  bursts  ! 

But  turn  again  to  the  text. 

II.  It  tells  us  of  a  Protector  from  our 
dangers. 

And  who  is  he  ?  If  we  understand  what 
our  dangers  are,  we  shall  all  say  he  must 
be  the  great  God.  None  other  can  effec- 
tually shelter  us.  But  the  text  does  not 
say  this.  It  tells  us  that  he  is  a  man ; 
"A  Man  shall  be  as  an  hiding  place  and  a 
covert."  But  how,  we  may  ask,  can  this 
be  ?  We  have  tried  often  enough  to  get 
help  from  men.  It  is  to  our  fellow-men 
we  look  the  oftenest  for  shelter  and  help 
when  the  storm  beats  on  us.  We  cannot 
keep  from  looking  to  them.  But,  alas ! 
what  have  they  done  for  us  ?  All  perhaps 
they  could  do,  but  it  has  been  well  nigh 
nothing,  nothing  amid  the  petty  ills  of  life, 
and  what  can  they  possibly  do  for  us  among 
eternal  ills  ?  And  yet  the  prophet  bids  us 
look  again  for  help  to  man,  and  all  of  us 
to  one  Man  ;  and  well  he  may.  This  Man 
is  such  a  man  as  never  before  was  seen  or 
lieard  of,  the  everlasting  Jehovah  manifest 
in  our  mortal  flesh,  God  and  man  united  in 
one  Christ. 

But  why  is  tlie  Lord  Jesus  called  so 
pointedly  and  emphatically  a  Man  in  this 
passage  ?     Perhaps  for  three  reasons. 

1.  To  lead  the  ancient  church  to  expect 
his  incarnation. 

The  living  God  had  hitherto  been  their 
Protector,  and  tlieir  only  sure  Protector. 
They  had  looked  for  help  elsewhere,  but 
they  had  suffered  severely  for  doing  so, 
and  had  been  often  reproved  by  God  him- 
self for  doing  so.  He  liud  told  them  through 
age  after  age,  that  he  only  was  their  re- 


CHRIST  A  REFUGE. 


21 


fufle,  and  that  it  was  a  dishonor  done  to  I  The  importance  to  us  of  his  divine  nature 
him,'  to  his  love  and  greatness,  to  make  is  clear.  He  could  be  no  Saviour  to  us 
any  but  him   their   confidence.      "  Cease  [  were   he  not  the  mighty   God.     And   we 


ye  from  man,"  had  been  his  constant  lan- 
guage to  them  ;  "  cursed  is  he  that  makcth 
flesh  his  arm."  When,  therefore,  they 
find  him  suddenly  changing  his  language, 
telling  them  that'a  time  should  come  when 
a  man  should  be  their  helper,  and  bid- 
ding them  look  to  him  for  help,  they  must 
naturally  have  said,  "  What  mcaneth  this?" 
The  prophecies  of  yet  earlier  days  would 
probably  recur  to  them.  They  would 
tliink  of  that  seed  of  the  woman,  who  was 
to  bruise  the  serpent's  head ;  of  that  seed 
of  Abraham,  in  whom  all  the  nations  of 
the  earth  were  to  be  blessed ;  and  thus 
the  expectation  of  Jehovah  himself  becom- 
incr  incarnate  for  their  salvation,  would  find  to  it.  The  prophet  does  not  say,  "  Behold 
its%av  into  their  minds ;  thev  would  anti-  a  King  shall  reign  m  nghteousness,_and 
form  to  be  their   that  King  shall  be  your  hidmg  place,'   he 


need  no  arguments  to  convince  us  of  this. 
The  instant  the  Holy  Spirit  discovers  to  us 
our  spiritual  dangers,  wo  feel  it.  And 
hence  it  is  that  the  divinity  of  our  Lord  is 
so  seldom  directly  asserted  in  the  scrip, 
tures.  Their  object  seems  rather  to  be  to 
prove  him  to  be  indeed  and  in  truth  man. 
But  the  text,  you  observe,  goes  further  than 
this.  It  not  only  declares  tlic  reality  of  his 
manhood,  it  intimates  also  its  importance. 
It  not  only  says,  "  He  who  will  save  you  is  a 
man,"  but  it  so  says  it,  as  to  let  us  see  that 
his  manhood  will  have  much  to  do  with 
saving  us.  It  is  referred  to  in  a  very 
marked  manner.     Our  attention  is  called 


cipate  his  coming  in  human 
Saviour. 

2.  And  it  may  be  that  the  Lord  .Tesus  is 
called  a  man  here  to  encourage  ns  to  ap- 
proach him. 

We  naturally  are  afraid  of  God  ;  we 
slirink  from  approaching  him.  Besides, 
the  storms  from  which  we  want  a  refuge, 
are  raised  against  us  by  God.  We  have 
incensed  him  against  us  by  our  trans- 
gressions, and  we  dare  not  look  to  him  for 
shelter.  So  feels  every  conscience-strick- 
en soul.  But  here,  says  this  text,  is  God 
appearing  before  you  in  a  new  character 
and  form.  Behold,  he  takes  on  him  your 
own  character  and  form.  He  comes  to 
you  as  a  man  ;  he  speaks  to  you  as  a  man  ; 
and  why  ?  To  let  you  see  that  he  is  still 
full  of  compassion  for  your  guilty  souls  ;  to 
sliow  vou  that  though  his  storms  are  deso- 
latingthe  world,  and  he,  in  his  righteous 
anger,  will  not  stop  them,  yet  h"  has  a  heart 
full  of  pity  for  the  world,  and  even  in  his 
wrath  is  thinking  upon  mercy.  When  we 
consider  for  one  moment  who  God  is,  his 
manifestation  in  our  flesh,  his  mere  appear- 
ance in  our  world  as  a  man,  proclaims  him 
at  once  man's  Friend  and  Saviour.  We 
scarcely  require  one  word  from  him  to  en- 
courage us  to  approach  him.  His  awful 
justice  is  not  so  visible  in  the  wildest 
storm  of  his  displeasure,  as  his  love  is  visi- 
ble in  his  human  nature  and  form. 

n.  But  the  chief  reason  for  the  applica- 
tion of  this  title  to  him,  probably  is  to  shoio 
us  the  importance  of  Ids  hwnan  nature  to  our 
safety. 


says,  "  A  Man  shall  be  your  hiding  place." 
When  we  are  asked  therefore  what  it  is  in 
Christ,  that  is  the  protection  of  his  people, 
we  do  not  exclude  his  Godiiead  ;  we  should 
tremble  to  do  so.  To  that  everlasting 
Rock  we  must  all  fly,  and  in  the  clefts  of 
that  Rock  we  must  seek  our  safety. 
Many  a  storm  have  some  of  us  weathered 
there,  yea,  and  almost  smiled  at  as  we 
weathered  it.  But  it  is,  as  it  were,  through 
his  human  nature,  that  wc  have  gone  into 
these  clefts.  Wc  feel  that  we  could  not 
have  found  our  way  into  them,  but  through 
this.  And  ask  us  where  we  hide  ourselves 
the  oftenest,  where  we  feel  ourselves  the 
most  safe,  where,  when  the  storm  beats  the 
heaviest,  we  feel  that  we  must  hide,  we 
shall  all  say  with  one  voice,  "  It  is  in  the 
Man  Christ  Jesus,  in  the  incarnate,  and  suf- 
fering, and  bleeding,  and  dying  Son  of  God." 
In" fact,  brethren,  the  truth  implied  in 
this  text,  is  no  other  than  that  which  is  so 
often  stated  in  holy  scripture  in  the  plain- 
est possible  terms,  .lust  as  tlic  manhood 
of  Christ  is  insisted  on  there  more  than 
his  Godhead,  so  our  salvation  is  ascribed 
to  his  degradation  and  sufferings,  more  fre- 
quently than  to  his  power  and  greatness. 
Both  are  needful  f)r  our  salvation,  but  we 
are  less  ready  to  third<  his  sufferings  so, 
therefore  wc  are  tlic  oftener  told  to  look  to 
them  for  our  salvation.  "  By  his  stripes," 
it  is  said,  "  we  are  healed."  It  is  his  blood 
that '"cleanseth  us  from  all  sin."  Not 
through  his  riciies,  but  "through  JiispovfT- 
itv,"   wc    are  to  be   made    rich.     And   in 


22 


CHRIST  A  REFUGE. 


heaven  when  the  work  is  done,  when  the 
last  storm  has  blown  and  all  around  is  one 
wide  blessed  calm,  wliat  shall  be  said  then  ? 
The  rejoicing  cimrcli,  with  all  the  glory 
of  its  Saviour  in  open  vision  before  it,  shall 
still  look  back  to  the  manger  apd  the  cross, 
and  say,  "  It  was  there  he  saved  us. 
Tliou  wast  slain  and  hast  i-edeemed  us  to 
God  by  thy  blood." 

III.  Wc  may  come  now  to  a  third 
point — the  excellence  of  that  protection  ichich 
the  Lord  Jesus  affords  us. 

Imagine  yourselves,  brethren,  in  such  a 
desert  as  the  prophet  has  here  in  his  mind. 
There  comes  sweeping  towards  you  the  fu- 
rious whirlwind.  One  thing  only  fills  your 
tlioughts — "  Where  can  I  find  a  shelter?" 
Now  suppose  yourselves  asked,  in  such  a 
moment  as  this,  what  kind  of  a  shelter  you 
wished  for,  you  would  naturally  say,  in  the 
first  place,  it  must  be  a  secure  one.  You 
would  point  to  the  tempest  that  was  coming 
on,  and  say,  "  It  must  be  strong  enough  to 
shield  me  from  that."  And  Christ  is  a  se- 
cure hiding  place.  In  consequence  of  what 
he  has  done  and  suffered  in  his  human  na- 
ture, and  of  what  he  is  still  doing  in  that  na- 
ture, he  is  "  able  to  save,"  and  "  to  save  to 
the  uttermost,  all  that  come  unto  him."  We 
are  to  turn  to  him  as  to  "  a  strong  hold  ;"  not 
as  to  an  accidental  shelter,  a  house  or  a 
common  building  that  may  or  may  not  be 
able  to  protect  us,  but  as  to  "  a  hold,"  a  for- 
.ress,  a  place  built  for  safety,  and  "  a  strong 
hold,"  built  in  anticipation  of  furious  at- 
tacks and  storms,  and  able  to  abide  them. 

And  then  you  would  say,  "  The  refuge  I 
want  must -be  a  near  one."  It  matters 
nothing  to  a  man  in  a  storm  how  secure  a 
hiding  place  may  be,  if  it  is  faraway  from 
him.  To  be  of  any  service  to  him,  it  must 
be  close  at  hand  ;  he  must  be  able  to  get  to 
it.  And  who  so  near  at  hand  as  the  Lord 
Jesus  ?  Be  we  where  we  may  in  this 
howling  wilderness,  we  are  always  within 
a  step  of  this  blessed  covert.  In  a  moment 
at  any  time  we  may  flee  into  it  and  be  se- 
cure from  evil.  Some  of  us  however  only 
half  l)elieve  this.  How  often  do  we  say,  it 
is  useless  for  us  to  expect  mercy,  or  com- 
fort, or  some  other  blessing,  in  a  situation 
like  ours  !  And  when  we  do  look  up  to 
Christ  fortlie  hclpwc  want  in  trouble,  how 
commonly  do  wo  look  to  him  as  one  far  off 
from  us  !  "  O  tliat  I  knew  wliere  I  n^ight 
find  him !"  says  many  a  troubled  soul. 
But  the  truth  is,  that  Clirist  could  not  be 


nearer  his  afilicted  _eople  than  he  always 
is.  Our  refuge,  if  we  will  but  enter  it,  is 
always  as  near  to  us  as  our  danger  ;  it  is 
sometimes  nearer.  There,  but  a  little  way 
off,  comes  the  overwhelming  storm  ;  but 
here,  not  a  little  way  off,  close  to  us,  at  our 
right  hand,  witliin  one  step  of  us,  is  our 
hiding  place.  The  happy  psalmist  well 
knew  this.  "  God  is  our  refuge  and 
strength,"  he  says ;  not  a  present,  but  a 
"  very  present  help  in  trouble."  Speaking 
of  the  church,  he  says  again,  not  "  God  is 
near  her  ;"  but  "  God  is  in  the  midst  of  her, 
she  shall  not  be  moved  ;  God  shall  help 
her,  and  that  right  early." 

But  you  may  ask,  "  Can  I  gain  admit- 
tance into  this  refuge  if  I  flee  to  it  ?"  The 
answer  is.  You  can.  It  is  an  open  refuge, 
a  refuge  ever  open,  and  open  to  all  who 
choose  to  enter  it.  None  who  flee  to  it,  are 
denied  access  to  it.  Look  through  this 
parish — we  could  find  hundreds  here  who 
need  a  shelter,  and  will  soon  be  undone  for- 
ever if  they  do  not  secure  one.  Look  over 
the  wide  world — O  what  multitudes  do  we 
see,  millions  on  millions,  suffering  and  per- 
ishing in  it  !  In  Cln-ist  there  is  room 
enough  to  shelter  them  all.  and  one  is  just 
as  welcome  to  enter  into  him  for  shelter  as 
another.  His  mercy  is  large,  his  merits 
infinite,  his  offers  free,  his  invitations  as 
gracious  and  extensive  as  we  can  desire 
them  or  he  can  make  them.  "  Look  unto 
me,"  he  says,  "  and  be  ye  saved,  all  the 
ends  of  the  earth."  "  Whosoever  believeth 
in  me  shall  be  saved."  There  is  no  cast- 
ing out  of  any  one  who  is  hid  in  Christ  ; 
there  is  no  keeping  out  of  any  one  who 
wishes  to  hide  himself  in  him.  And  it  does 
not  matter  what  the  evil  is  we  wish  to  es- 
cape. There  is  as  good  a  shelter  in  him 
from  what  we  deem  a  small  danger,  as 
from  a  great  one,  and  we  are  as  welcome 
to  come  to  him  for  it.  He  is  as  much  a  re- 
fuge for  an  aching,  or  careworn,  or  fearful 
heart,  as  for  a  perishing,  guilty  soul.  He 
is  a  hiding  place  fi-om  every  wind,  a  covert 
from  every  tempest. 

And  one  thing  more — he  is  a  vrl/ fiir- 
nished  hiding  place. 

"'I  may  fly  to  that  rock  or  tower,"  a  man 
in  the  desert  may  say,  "  and  it  n)ay  screen 
me  fi-om  the  angry  tempest ;  but  suppose 
the  tempest  should  continue,  I  may  ])<'rish, 
and  perish  miseral)ly  from  hunger  or  tliirst, 
beneath  its  shelter."  But  no ;  there  ir 
provision    and  plentiful  provision   in  thu 


CHRIST  A  REFUGE. 


23 


stronjT  hold  for  all  who  enter  it.  We  run 
into  it  to  escape  tlanjjer,  but  what  do  we 
•find  when  we  get  within  it  ?  All  tliat  can 
refresh,  delight,  and  satisfy  a  craving  soul. 
We  almost  forget  it  is  a  hiding  place  ;  it 
becomes  to  us  a  pleasant  dwelling  place, 
the  seat  of  our  richest  comforts,  and  our 
home.  Even  were  the  storm  to  cease,  we 
should  not  wish  to  leave  it.  We  are  better 
provided  for,  we  are  happier  within  our 
refuge,  than  we  ever  were  out  of  it,  or  ever 
can  be.  "  It  hath  pleased  the  Father," 
says  the  apostle,  "  that  in  him  should  all 
fulness  dwell."  There  is  nothing  wanting 
in  him,  which  can  make  a  sinner  happy. 
And  look  at  the  verse  before  us.  No  sooner 
has  the  prophet  spoken  of  him  as  a  refuge, 
tlian  he  thinks  of  the  refreshment  and  com- 
fort that  are  to  be  enjoyed  in  him.  This 
same  Man  who  is  to  be  a  hiding  place  from 
the  wind,  is  to  be  at  the  same  time  as 
"  rivers  of  water  in  a  dry  place,  as  the 
shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land." 
The  psalmist  too  connects  the  ideas  of  pro- 
vision and  abundance  with  this  refuge  ;  "  I 
cried  unto  thee,  O  Lord  ;  I  said.  Thou  art 
my  refuge  and  my  portion  in  the  land  of 
the  living." 

And  now,  brethren,  let  me  ask,  what 
think  you  of  tliis  hiding  place,  this  secure, 
near,  open,  and  richly  furnished  hiding 
place  for  your  helpless  souls  ?  What  use 
have  you  made  of  it  ?  Have  you  fled  to 
it  ?  Have  you  really  entered  it  ?  Are  you 
now  within  it  ?  Some  of  you,  blessed  be 
God  !  are  within  it.  To  you  this  text  savs, 
"  Rejoice  in  it.  Let  the  inhabitants  of  this 
rock  sing."  See  how  dear  you  must  be  to 
Jehovah,  for  him  to  have  provided  such  a 
refuge  for  you.  "  Noah,"  we  read,  "  found 
grace  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord,"  and  how 
did  the  Lord  manifest  the  grace  and  favor 
he  bore  him  ?  He  prepared  an  ark  to  save 
him,  when  all  the  world  besides  was  about 
to  be  destroyed.  And  what  an,  ark  has  he 
prepared  for  you  !  None  but  himself  can 
tell  the  full  cost  of  it ;  but  when  you  hear 
that  a  Man  is  to  be  your  hiding  place,  that 
your  refuge  has  been  built  up  by  the  in- 
carnation and  abasement  of  God's  everlast- 
ing Son,  you  have  lieard  enough  to  make 
you  feel  that  you  must  be  dearer  to  that 
(iod,  than  words  can  tell.  You  have  heard 
enough  to  show  you  also  that  none  who  are 
in  Christ,  can  perisii  ;  that  it  is  impossible 
for  you  to  perish,  so  long  as  you  are  hid  in 
him.     Storms  you  may  expect,  storms  you 


ought  to  expect ;  they  will  blow  around  you 
and  IjIow  upon  you  whether  you  look  for 
them  or  not ;  this  text  seems  to  take  it  for 
granted  that  you  will  encounter  them  ;  but, 
brethren,  let  them  blow.  They  may  shake, 
they  may  distress  you  ;  you  may  long  with 
your  whole  soul  to  get  away  from  their 
noise  and  havoc ;  but  they  cannot  really 
injure,  they  cannot  destroy  you.  You  are 
hid  in  Christ,  and  the  tempest  that  over- 
whelms you,  must  first  overthrow  him. 
The  rock  of  ages  must  be  shivered,  before 
those  who  are  in  it  can  be  harmed.  Not 
only  must  eternal  love  and  eternal  faithful- 
ness give  w'ay,  infinite  power  and  everlast- 
ing" strength  must  be  overcome,  before  any 
thing  in  time  or  in  eternity  can  ruin  you. 

But  there  are  those  here,  who  are  out  of 
this  hiding  place.  Many  of  you  know  well 
enough  that  you  have  never  entered  it. 
You  have  heard  of  it,  but  you  have  never 
seen  j^our  need  of  it,  or  if  you  have  seen 
your  need  of  it,  you  have  not  cared  about 
it,  and  have  soon  forgotten  it.  You  are 
living  out  of  Christ  and  without  Christ  in 
the  world.  Need  I  remind  you  again  what 
the  world  is  ?  Your  own  past  experience, 
perhaps  your  own  present  experience,  can 
tell  you.  It  is  a  stormy  world  ;  there  are 
winds  and  tempests  in  it,  and  you  have  felt 
them.  They  have  at  times  well  nigh  over- 
whelmed you  ;  they  have  cut  some  of  you 
through  and  through.  The  beloved  hiding 
places  to  which  you  used  to  go  for  comfort 
in  these  storms,  are  some  of  them  levelled 
with  the  ground,  and  all  of  them,  one  afi:er 
another,  will  soon  fall.  And  what  at  last 
will  you  do  ?  You  may  be  left  to  weather 
the  last  and  worst  storms  of  life  alone.  You 
must  surely  encounter  unfriended,  if  not 
alone,  the  storm  that  will  lay  waste  the 
world.  O  brethren,  have  mercy  on  your- 
selves. A  refuge  is  near  you,  an  open  and 
a  safe  one.  There  is  something  in  Christ, 
that  can  bring  you  strength  and  comfort  in 
all  you  now  endure  or  fear ;  there  is  enough 
in  him  to  save  your  souls  alive.  He  invites 
you  to  come  to  him,  that  you  may  partake 
of  all  tliat  is  within  him,  that  he  may  make 
you  now  and  forever  safe,  peaceful,  and 
happy  men.  You  are  as  welcome  to  enter 
this  hiding  place,  as  you  were  this  morning 
to  enter  tJiis  church.  There  is  nothing  to 
keep  you  out  of  it,  except  it  be  your  own 
unwillingness  to  go  in.  But  enter  it  you 
must,  or  destruction  will  overtake  you.  Jj 
is  not  hearing  of  it,  or  looking  at  it,  or  ad 


24 


CHRIST'S  HUMAN  BODY  THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


miring  it,  that  can  save  you  ;  you  must  get 
within  it.  In  other  words,  you  must  flee 
to  Christ  as  a  Saviour  for  your  own  guilty 
souls.  With  a  lively  faith  in  his  willing- 
ness and  power  to  save  you,  you  must  com- 
mit your  souls  to  him  to  be  saved.  Think 
of  a  man  in  a  wide  desert  discovering  a 
fearful  storm  rising,  and  flying  to  the  only 
shelter  he  can  see  for  safety,  and  when  he 
gets  up  to  it,  finding  an  open  door,  and  joy- 
fully, though  perhaps  fearfully,  venturing 
in — there  is  a  picture  of  a  sinner  who  has 
really  come  to  Christ  for  salvation.  And 
think  of  another  man  in  the  same  desert. 
He  is  told  of  the  coming  storm,  and  he  pro- 
fesses to  believe  that  it  is  coming,  but  he  is 
amusing  himself  with  his  fellow-travellers, 
or  he  is  picking  up  the  pebbles  at  his  feet, 
and  you  cannot  move  him  ;  you  cannot  get 
him  even  to  look  at  the  refuge  you  tell  him 
of;  or  if  he  does  look  at  it  and  you  even 
prevail  on  him  to  move  towards  it,  he  stops, 
sits  down  in  the  way,  and  talks  about  it, 
and  says,  "  I  am  resolved  to  enter  it  by  and 
by" — there  is  a  picture  of  thousands  who 
hear  of  Christ  and  his  salvation,  and  sink 
down  in  the  grave  without  an  interest  in 
them.  They  perish  within  sight  of  a  refuge ; 
almost  saved,  but  altogether  lost.  Beloved 
brethren,  which  of  these  two  pictures  re- 
sembles you  ? 


SERMON  V. 


CHRISTMAS    DAY, 


CHRIST'S  HUMAN  BODY  THE  TEMPLE  OF 
GOD. 


St.  Joh.n  h.  2L — "  He  spake  of  the  temple  of  his 
body." 

When  our  Lord  conversed  with  the  .Tews, 
he  spoke  to  them  generally  in  the  very 
plainest  terms.  Suppressing  with  a  won- 
derful self  command  his  own  lofty  thoughts 
and  deep  enidtions,  he  accommodated  him- 
self to  the  level  of  their  ideas,  speaking  to 
their  minds  rather  tiian  from  his  own.  But 
not  so  in  the  case  before  us. 

He  had  just  performed  a  signal  miracle. 
Armed  only  with  a  scourge  of  cords,  he 
had  driven  out  of  the  temple  at  Jenisalnni 
a  throng  of  men  who  were  profaning  it  ; 
and  instead  of  flying  immediately  from  the 


dangers  this  act  of  holy  zeal  might  brin^ 
on  him,  there  he  stands,  in  the  calmness  of 
conscious  majesty,  untouched  on  the  very 
spot  Avhere  he  had  wrought  it.  Now  what 
said  the  Jews  to  this  ?  "  Truly  this  man  is 
the  Son  of  God  ?"  No;  with  a  strange 
mixture  of  folly  and  perverseness,  they  ask 
of  him  a  miracle  ;  "  What  sign  showest 
thou  unto  us  ?"  just  as  though  the  display 
of  power,  which  but  a  minute  before  had 
awed  and  confounded  them,  were  not  miracle 
enough.  As  might  have  been  expected,  our 
Lord  refuses  their  demand,  and  he  almost 
mocks  them  as  he  refuses  it.  He  gives 
them  an  answer  which  not  one  of  them 
could  understand  ;  "  Destroy  this  temple, 
and  in  three  days  I  will  raise  it  up."  And 
thus  he  acts  still  with  every  caviller.  "  The 
meek  will  he  guide  in  judgment,  and  the 
meek  will  he  teach  his  way  ;"  he  will  stoop 
down  to  be  an  instructor  of  the  most  igno- 
rant, a  teacher  of  babes  :  but  as  for  the 
proud  and  contentious,  he  leaves  them  in 
darkness  ;  he  throws  a  veil  over  his  own 
blessed  word  when  they  open  it,  so  that 
though  they  study  it  for  years,  and  study  it 
too  with  all  the  light  which  learning  and 
intellect  can  throw  on  it,  they  know  nothing 
about  it,  nothing  to  any  spiritual  or  useful 
purpose.  It  is  to  them  at  last  just  what 
they  found  it  at  first,  a  book  of  riddles. 

But  turn  again  to  these  Jews.  No  sooner 
did  they  hear  Christ  mention  a  temple,  than 
they  thought  naturally  enough  that  he 
meant  the  temple  they  were  standing  in ; 
but  they  were  wrong.  His  words  for  once 
came  out  of  the  depths  of  liis  own  mind, 
and  consequently  had  a  far  deeper  meaning 
in  them  than  the  people  imagined.  "  He 
spake,"  says  the  text,  "  of  the  temple  of 
his  body;"  not  of  that  splendid  structure 
which  had  crowned  for  so  many  ages  the 
hill  of  Zion,  but  of  that  lowly  tenement 
wliich  had  been  seen  for  the  first  time  a  few 
years  before  amid  the  huts  of  Bethlehem. 

You  see  then,  brethren,  the  subject  we 
have  for  our  consideration.  It  is  the  human 
body  of  Christ  viewed  as  the  temple  of  the 
livin<r  (lod.      And  in   looking  at   it  in   this 

Ijiglit,  we  must  keep  in  mind  the  Jewi.sh 
trmple.  It  is  clear  that  in  using  the  lan- 
guage before  us,  tlie   Lord   Jesus  had  it  in 

]  his  mind  ;  and  it  is  clear  also  that  he  nuisl 
have  seen  some  resemblance  between  it  ana 
himself.  He  would  not  otherwise  have  sc 
promptly  and  naturally  made  use  of  it  to 
si<'iiifv  himself. 


CHRIST'S  HUMAN  BODY  THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD 


25 


We  may  trace  this  rosemblancn  in  three 
particulars.  It  represents  our  Lord's  hu- 
man nature  as,  first,  a  dwelling  place  for 
God  to  inhabit;  then,  as  a  form  wherein  to 
manifest  or  reveal  himself;  and  then,  as  a 
monument  to  his  praise. 

I.  Christ's  human  nature  is  the  dwelling 
place  of  God. 

We  knoSv  that  as  soon  as  the  first  tem- 
ple at  Jerusalem  was  built,  God  entered 
into  it.  "The  glory  of  the  Lord,"  we 
read,  '•  filled  the  house  of  the  Lord."  This 
splendid  manifestation  quickly  passed  away, 
but  tiie  Lord  did  not  depart.  He  promised 
Solomon  that  he  never  would  depart  from 
that  place.  "  I  have  surely  built  thee  an 
house  to  dwell  in,"  said  the  king  to  him, 
"  a  settled  place  for  thee  to  abide  in  for- 
ever." "  I  have  hallowed  this  house  which 
thou  hast  built,"  answered  God,  "  to  put 
my  name  there  forever,  and  mine  eyes  and 
mine  heart  shall  be  tlicre  perpetually." 
And  he  fulfilled  his  promise.  For  several 
hundred  years  after,  in  fact  to  the  very 
moment  when  the  building  was  destroyed, 
a  shining  cloud  is  said  to  have  been  con- 
stantly abiding  over  the  mercy-seat  within 
that  temple,  and  this  the  people  were  taught 
to  regard  as  a  symbol  of  Jehovah  himself. 
The  second  temple  indeed  was  whhout  this 
or  any  other  supernatural  token  of  God's 
presence,  but  still  God  was  there.  He 
dwelt  unseen  within  it,  meeting  his  Israel 
there  age  after  age  and  blessing  them. 
And  this  fact  was  in  our  Lord's  mind  at 
this  moment,  for  in  one  of  the  preceding 
verses,  he  calls  the  temple  "  his  Father's 
house,"  and  grounds  the  indignation  he 
had  just  exhibited  against  those  who  pro- 
faned it,  on  this  very  circumstance. 

And  now  turn  to  Bethlehem.  But  where 
shall  we  find  there  a  habitation  for  God  ? 
We  see  there  no  glittering  dome  or  high 
raised  pinnacles,  no  crowding  worshippers 
or  smoking  incense  ;  we  hear  there  no  loud 
hallelujah  or  echoing  psalm  ;  but  yet  there, 
amid  those  lowly  cottages  and  sheds,  stands 
the  house  of  the  living  God.  True,  we 
perceive  in  it  at  first  no  grandeur,  no  form 
or  comeliness  ;  the  soul  of  the  meanest 
angel  seems  to  dwell  in  a  fairer  lodging 
place  ;  but  never  before  was  any  building 
raised,  never  before  was  any  thing  whatso- 
ever created,  for  so  high  a  purpose.  We 
greatly  mistake  if  we  regard  the  human 
body  of  Christ  as  formed  mainly  to  be  a 
dwellin'i  for  the  human  soul  of  Christ.     The 


everlasting  Jehovah  prepared  it  for  himself", 
and  as  soon  as  it  came  into  existence,  he 
became  its  inhabitant.  He  entered  it  as 
really  as  he  entered  the  Jewish  temple  j 
he  dwelt  in  it  at  Bethlehem  and  Nazaretii  ; 
he  dwells  in  it  now  in  the  lofty  heavens,  and 
will  dwell  in  it  forever,  and  this  in  a  peculiar 
manner,  as  he  has  never  dwelt  anywhere 
else.  He  dwells  indeed  in  his  church; 
nay,  every  soul  which  he  has  redeemed,  he 
calls  his  temple  and  his  dwelling  place ;  but 
why?  Because  he  is  continually  acting 
on  that  soul  by  his  Holy  Spirit ;  because 
there  is  continually  flowing  into  it.  in  some 
way  which  we  understand  not,  an  influence 
or  emanation  from  himself.  But  when  he 
speaks  of  dwelling  in  the  Man  Christ  Jesus, 
he  means  much  more  than  this.  There  is 
more  in  this  case  than  an  influence  imparted 
or  an  operation  going  on  ;  there  is  an  actual 
passing  of  the  Godhead  into  that  frame  of 
dust,  a  taking  of  the  human  nature  into 
union  with  the  divine,  and  a  union  so  close 
and  entire,  that  wherever  that  human  frame 
is,  there  is  God.  "  Two  whole  and  per- 
fect natures,"  says  our  church  in  her  second 
article,  •'  that  is  to  say,  the  Godhead  and  the 
manhood,  were  joined  together  in  one  per- 
son never  to  be  divided,  whereof  is  one 
Christ,  very  God  and  very  Man."  The 
two  cannot  be  separated.  We  may  dis- 
tinguish them  ;  we  must  often  distinguish 
them  ;  the  sense  of  scripture  requires  us  to 
do  so ;  but  we  cannot  sever  them.  That 
Son  of  Man  is  the  everlasting  Father,  and 
the  everlasting  Father  is  that  Son  of  Man. 
Is  this  mysterious  to  you,  brethren  ?  It 
was  mysterious  to  Paul  with  his  mighty  in- 
tellect. "  Great,"  he  says,  "  is  the  mystery 
of  godliness."  It  is  mysterious  to  angels. 
We  cannot  explain  it ;  but  what  then  ? 
We  can  refer  you  to  scripture  after  scrip- 
ture which  calls  on  you  most  plainly  to  be- 
lieve it.  "  God  was  in  Christ,"  says  St. 
Paul.  "  The  Word,"  says  St.  John,  the 
same  Word  that  was  in  the  beginning  with 
God  and  was  God,  "  was  made  flosh  ;"  w^as 
so  closely  connected  with  flesh,  that  it  be- 
came, as  it  were,  identified  with  it.  And 
there  is  a  passage  in  the  epistle  to  the 
Colossians,  wherein  the  Holy  Spirit  states 
this  truth  yet  more  strongly.  Speaking  of 
Christ,  "  in  him,"  he  says,  "  dwelleth  all 
the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily."  He 
docs  not  say  now  that  God  is  in  Christ,  or 
that  God  dwells  in  Christ,  for  that,  some 
might  assert,   is   by   an   influence,   as   he 


26 


CHRIST'S  HUMAN  BODY  THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


dwells  in  us;  but  he  says,  "the  Godhead" 
is  in  him.     And  he  does  not  stoj)  ther"  ;  it 
might  then  have  been  contended  tha,  the 
Godhead  is  partially  in  liim  ;  he  says,  '*  the 
fulness"  of  the  Godhead;  and  more — "all" 
its   fulness;    and   lest   an   objector   should 
answer,  "  Yes,  by  a  figure,  in  some  meta-  ! 
phorical  sense,"  he  says,  "  No,  not  by  a ; 
figure  ;  in  him  dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  i 
the  Godhead  bodily,"  really,  substantially,  j 
entirely,  just  as  your  soul  and  mine  dwells  ; 
in  our  bodies.      God  dwells  in  his  church 
by  what  we  call  his  grace,  by  an  influence, 
by  communications  from  himself;  he  dwells 
in  the  Man  Christ  Jesus  by  a  personal  union. 
God  dwells  in  his  church  as  the  light  of  day 
dwells  in  our  houses  ;  he  dwells  in  Christ 
as  the   same  light  dwells  in  the  sun.     He 
dwells  among  his  people  as  the  ocean  dwells 
in  the  rivers  whither  the  swelling  tide  car- 
ries it  ;   he  dwells  in  the  incarnate  Jesus 
as  that  ocean  dwells  in  its  bed. 

Am  I  pressing  this  point  too  long,  breth- 
ren ?  Do  I  seem  to  any  of  you  to  be  at- 
taching to  it  too  much  importance  ?  I  see 
not  how  I  or  any  one  can  over-state  its  im- 
portance. It  is  "the  pillar  of  the  truth," 
the  column  which  supports  the  whole  fabric 
of  Christianity  ;  it  is  more — it  is  "  the 
ground"  or  foundation  of  it.  You  might  as 
well  tell  me  that  the  foundation  of  the  build- 
ing in  which  you  are  now  seated,  could  be 
represented  as  of  too  much  importance  to 
this  building  'itself.  Take  it  away,  the 
whole  structure  falls.  Instead  of  this  house 
of  God  where  God  has  so  often  met  us  and 
blessed  us,  there  remains  only  a  heap  of 
ruins.  And  take  this  great  truth  out  of 
Christianity,  remove  from  it  the  real,  per- 
sonal in-dwelling  of  the  Godhead  in  the 
body  of  Christ,  to  what  have  you  reduced 
Christianity  ?  What  is  it  become  ?  Where 
is  now  its  beauty,  and  glory,  and  value  ? 
Nay,  where  is  its  meaning  and  sense  ?  We 
can  discover  scarcely  a  trace  of  any  one 
of  them.  You  have  removed  the  rock  on 
which  the  whole  stood,  and  of  what  you 
have  left,  we  can  make  nothing.  It  is  a 
glorious  temple  overthrown.  It  is  a  splen- 
did but  most  mournful  ruin.  Some  truths 
perhaps  we  may  reject,  yes,  some  sci'ip- 
tural  truths,  and  we  shall  suffer  for  the 
rejection  of  them  ;  but  yet  in  tlie  main  we 
may  be  sound  in  the  faith  and  be  safe. 
This  is  like  closing  up  one  window  of  a 
building :  the  light  will  still  come  in  through 
others,  and  be  sufhcient  for  all  the  ordinary 


purposes  of  life.  But  to  reject  this  truth 
is  not  to  close  one  entrance  of  light ;  it  is 
not  to  shut  up  one  window  of  a  room  or  all 
its  windows ;  it  is  to  tear  the  glorious  sun 
from  the  heavens,  and  then  to  talk  about  get- 
ting from  those  heavens  light  and  warmth. 
A  Christianity  without  God  in  Christ  may 
be  a  beautiful  code  of  morals,  but  as  for 
warming  the  heart,  or  purifying  the  affec- 
tions, or  comforting  the  troubled  spirit,  or 
saving  the  immortal  soul,  it  can  no  more  do 
either  than  the  philosophy  of  Plato  or  the 
morals  of  Confucius.     But  to  go  on — 

II.  God,  we  are  aware,  is  not  an  object 
of  sense.  He  is  in  himself,  as  our  church 
says,  "  without  body  or  parts."  He  may 
consequently  be  in  a  place  and  not  be 
known  to  be  there.  He  is  at  this  moment 
in  this  house  of  prayer,  but  none  of  us  can 
see  him  here.  He  is  in  our  own  houses, 
but  we  seldom  discover  him  in  them.  We 
may  advance,  therefore,  a  step  further,  and 
observe  that  the  human  body  of  Christ  is  a 
manifcstaUon  of  God.  It  is  something  which 
makes  an  unseen  God  visible  to  us,  and  an 
unknown  God  known.  It  shows  him  forth, 
and  brings  us  acquainted  with  him. 

And  herein  also  the  resemblance  between 
him  and  both  the  Jewish  temples  holds  good, 
especially  the  first.  When  God  entered 
that,  he  entered  it,  you  remember,  not 
spiritually  only,  but  visil)ly :  he  made  a 
bright  cloud  the  symbol  of  his  presence  in 
it.  This  the  people  beheld.  It  was  im- 
possible they  should  not  behold  it.  So  daz- 
zling was  its  splendor,  that  "  the  priests 
could  not  stand  to  minister  in  the  temple 
because  of  the  cloud."  To  impress  the 
reality  of  his  presence  on  their  minds,  he 
made  his  presence  for  a  time  overpowering. 
The  flame  too  which  continued  to  burn  in 
the  holy  place,  was  a  visible  representation 
of  him.  Such  he  described  it.  "I  will 
appear,"  he  says,  "  in  the  cloud  upon  the 
mercy-seat."  Such  his  servants  regarded 
it.  They  not  only  spoke  of  him  as  dwell- 
ing between  the  cherubim,  we  find  one  of 
them  alluding  to  him  as  discovering  him- 
self there  ;  "  O  thou  that  dwcllest  between 
the  ciierubims,  shine  forth."  Besides  this, 
much  of  the  furniture  and  all  the  services 
of  the  temple  testified  of  Jehovah.  The 
memorials  which  were  laid  u])  there  of  his 
power  and  goodness,  the  sacrifices  offered 
there,  the  rites  and  ordinances  which  were 
continually  g^ing  on  there,  all  proclaimed 
his  charac.il.     They  revealed  to  svjch  of 


CHRIST'S   HUMAN  BODY  THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


27 


his  Israel  as  had  any  spiritual  discernment, 
his  perfections,  as  well  as  his  existence  and 
presence.  And  God  too,  it  seems,  made 
his  temple  the  scene  of  some  very  peculiar 
manifestations  of  himself.  There  Isaiah 
beheld  him  in  that  splendid  vision  which  he 
describes  in  the  beginning  of  his  prophecy- 
There  Zaehaiias,  the  father  of  John,  held 
converse  with  his  angel.  There,  or  at  least 
in  the  tabernacle  which  corresponded  with 
this  temple,  David  speaks  of  having  seen, 
as  he  could  see  nowhere  else,  his  power 
and  his  glory. 

And  now  turn  to  Christ.  To  understand 
the  application  of  all  this  to  him,  we  must 
bear  in  mind  two  facts. 

1.  Though  we  ourselves  are  spiritual 
beings,  we  can  form  no  conception  of  any 
being  that  is  purely  spiritual.  I  do  not  mean 
that  we  can  form  no  correct  or  adequate 
idea  of  such  a  being,  but  no  idea  at  all ; 
we  cannot  place  him  before  our  minds. 
And  this  incapacity  of  ours  does  not  arise 
from  our  not  having  attained  a  certain  de- 
gree of  pietv  or  knowledge,  but  from  the 
present  constitution  of  our  nature.  It  is  an 
unavoidable,  or  what  is  called  a  natural, 
physical  incapacity.  We  are  as  unable  to 
conceive  of  spirit  as  a  blind  man  is  to  see. 
Now  God  is  a  spirit.  In  his  divine  nature, 
he  is  a  spirit  only,  a  spirit  and  nothing  else. 
It  will  follow  then  that  unless  something  is 
done  to  help  us,  we  can  never  have  any 
right  idea  of  God  whatsoever.  We  may 
form  some  conceptions  of  his  attributes  ;  we 
may  know  him  to  be  powerful,  and  great, 
and  go(nl  :  but  as  for  God  himself,  he  can 
have  no  place  in  our  minds. 

We  are  only  half  conscious  of  this  truth, 
brethren.  We  hear  so  much  of  the  divine 
Being  as  a  spirit,  the  term  is  so  familiar  to 
us,  tliat  we  tbink  we  understand  it ;  but  if 
we  look  into  ourselves  for  an  instant,  and 
ask  ourselves  what  we  mean  by  a  spirit, 
we  feel  at  once  that  we  do  not  know  what 
we  mean.  We  are  obliged  to  place  God 
before  us  as  a  person,  a  material  thing,  be- 
fore we  can  conceive  at  all  of  him.  And 
now  behold  his  wonderfid  compassion.  He 
meets  this  weakness  of  our  nature.  We 
cannot  get  into  that  spiritual  world  which 
he  inhabits  ;  he  comes  therefore  within  our 
range,  into  tlie  world  of  matter.  Me  places 
himself  before  us  in  a  nature  in  wliich  we 
can  in  some  measure  .see  and  comprehend 
him.  "  Strain  your  minds  no  more,"  he 
says,  "  to  conceive  of  me  as  I  am.     With- 


out laying  my  spiritual  nature  aside,  I  \\\\\ 
become  as  much  an  object  of  sense  as  any 
one  of  yourselves."  He  stoops  down  and 
embodies  himself  in  the  human  nature  of 
Christ,  and  tlien  says  to  an  astonished  uni- 
verse,  "  Behold  your  God."  And  tliis  is  a 
part  of  what  St.  Paul  means  when  he  says, 
■'  God  was  manifest  in  the  flesli  ;"  and  a 
part  too  of  what  our  Lord  meant  when 
he  said  to  one  of  his  disciples  who  had 
asked  him  to  show  them  the  Father,  "  He 
that  hath  seen  me,  hath  seen  the  Father." 

2.  We  must  bear  in  mind  another  truth 
— we  can  form  no  adequate  idea  of  the  cha- 
racter of  any  being,  unless  we  see  him  in 
action,  or  are  made  acquainted  tvith  his  ac- 
tions. The  mere  sight  of  him  will  not  do 
much  to  bring  us  acquainted  with  him. 
Before  we  can  get  any  extensive  or  certain 
knowledge  of  him,  we  must  hear  him 
speak,  we  must  see  him  act,  we  must  mark 
his  conduct. 

Now  had  the  great  God  merely  embodied 
himself  in  a  human  frame,  and  then  just 
shown  himself  to  the  earth  and  disappeared, 
we  should  not  have  been  advanced  mate- 
rially in  our  knowledge  of  him.  We  sliould 
have  had  .something  to  place  in  our  minds 
as  an  image  or  symbol  of  him,  just  as  the 
Jews  had  who  beheld  the  pillar  and  cloud 
in  the  wilderness,  but  that  would  have 
been  all ;  we  should  have  known  little 
more  of  his  attributes  and  perfections,  than 
we  knew  before.  Hence  he  Avas  not  only 
made  flesh,  but  "dwelt  among  us."  He 
not  only  took  on  him  our  nature,  but  while 
in  that  nature,  he  spoke  and  acted  ;  and 
in  .so  doing,  made  such  a  revelation  of  him- 
self to  his  creatures  as  had  never  been 
made  before,  and,  we  might  say,  never 
could  be  made  by  any  other  means.  By 
the  truths  Christ  taught,  by  the  powers  he 
exercised,  by  the  dispositions  he  manifest- 
ed, by  his  humble,  self-denying,  patient, 
holy  life,  and  above  all,  fiir  above  all,  by 
his  amazing  sufferings  and  death,  he  has 
showed  us  God  ;  he  has  unfolded  to  us 
the  divine  character ;  he  has  manifested 
more  of  the  unseen  Jehovah,  than  either 
we  or  any  angel  in  heaven  can  ever  take 
in.  Something  was  known  of  God  before. 
Thousands  of  created  worlds  had  proclaim- 
ed one  to  another  his  boundless  power.  Tbe 
lieavens  had  declared  from  age  to  age  his 
glory,  and  the  firmament  had  showed  forth 
his  handy  work.  His  law  too  had  asserted 
ins  autiiority  and   hol.'ness,  and  his  provi- 


28 


CHRIST'S  HUMAN  BODY  THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


(lence  had  borne  witness  to  his  justice,  his 
goodness  and  truth.  But  what  was  all  this  ? 
The  scriptures  speak  of  it  as  nothing, 
when  compai-ed  ^\•ith  the  person,  and  work, 
and  cross,  of  Christ.  It  left  ,he  whole  world 
in  darkness,  savs  Paul  ;  God  rose  on  it  in 
Christ  as  a  brilliant  sun.  "  We  preach  not 
ourselves,"  he  says,  "  bu'.  Christ  Jesus  the 
Lord  ;"  and  why  him  ?  Hp  lells  us  ;  "  For 
God,  who  commanded  the  light  to  shine  out 
of  darkness,  hath  shined  in  our  hearts,  to 
give  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory 
of  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ."  St. 
John  employs  the  same  figure.  "  He  was 
tlie  light  of  men,"  he  says,  "  a  light  that 
shineth  in  darkness." 

III.  And  this  brings  us  to  a  third  point 
of  resemblance  between  Christ  and  the 
temple — his  human  nature  is  a  monument 
to  God's  praise. 

We  wonder  not  that  lofty  structures  were 
raised  to  the  gods  of  the  heathen,  and  that 
the  heathen  thought  they  honored  their  gods 
by  raising  them.  They  really  did  honor 
them.  Their  gods  were  men  like  them- 
selves, and  sometimes  less  than  men,  but 
the  sun  never  rose  on  more  gigantic  efforts 
of  human  power  than  their  temples,  or 
prouder  achievements  of  human  skill.  The 
mere  ruins  of  them  force  admiration  and 
wonder  too  from  every  beholder.  But  as 
for  building  a  temple  to  the  living  Jehovah's 
glory,  the  thought  of  it  seems  at  first  con- 
founding. Majestic  we  may  make  it ;  it 
may  surpass  in  grandeur  all  that  was  ever 
seen  in  Egypt,  or  Greece,  or  Rome  ;  it 
may  appear  for  a  moment  worthy  of  its  ob- 
ject; but  how  long  could  such  an  illusion 
last  ?  One  right  thought  of  God  dispels  it 
all.  We  think  of  him  who  has  heaven  for 
his  throne  and  the  earth  for  his  footstool,  we 
get  a  sigiit  or  something  like  a  sight  of 
God's  majesty  and  vastness,  and  where  is 
the  glory  of  man's  architecture  now  ?  It 
is  gone.  We  can  no  longer  think  of  it. 
We  feel  that  we  can  no  more  raise  a  build- 
ing to  do  God  honor  or  show  forth  his 
greatness,  than  we  can  paint  a  picture 
briglit  as  the  sun.  But  yet  (lod  did  allow 
a  temple  to  Ix)  built  to  him  at  Jerusalem, 
and  that  temple  did  show  forth  his  praise. 
It  was  a  public  acknowledgment  of  him 
bv  those  who  acknowledged  no  other  god  ; 
it  was  an  indication  of  the  liigh  conceptions 
which  the  buiUlers  of  that  tcm])le  and  the 
proi)le  of  tliatcity  had  formed  of  iiini.  Tiie 
stranger,  as  he  gazed  on  its  labored  mag- 


nificence, must  have  felt  that  the  Lord  God 
of  Israel  was  held  in  h'inor  there,  and  the 
Jew  must  have  been  reminded  that  the  God 
of  his  fathers  was  worthy  of  all  honor  and 
praise. 

Now  turn  again  to  the  Lord  Jesus.  Is 
there  a  Christian  man  here  who  needs  to  be 
told  that  his  human  nature  glorifies  God 
while  it  reveals  him  ?  God  raised  it  up 
and  dedicated  it  to  his  glory,  and  he  who 
looks  on  it  aright,  feels  that  it  answers  in 
a  most  wonderful  manner  its  intended  pur- 
pose ;  it  shows  forth  and  augments  unutter- 
ably Jehovah's  praise.  It  must  do  so.  God 
is  a  glorious  God  ;  his  character  is  a  glo- 
rious character.  Whatsoever  then  makes 
God  and  his  character  known,  must  make 
known  his  glory.  His  glory  and  himself 
must  be  revealed  together.  Show  a  man 
the  mid-day  sun  without  showing  him  its 
brightness ;  but  you  cannot  open  the  eyes 
of  ins  mind  to  behold  God  as  he  is  mani- 
fested in  Christ,  without  showing  him  a 
splendor  there,  that  will  astonish  and  de- 
light him.  Hence  in  the  passage  to  which 
you  have  just  been  referred,  the  light  seen 
in  the  face  of  Christ  is  called  "the  light 
of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God." 
"  The  Word  was  jnade  flesh,"  says  St 
John,  "  and  dwelt  among  us,  and  we  beheld 
his  glory,  the  glory  as  of  the  only  begotten 
of  the  Father."  He  is  "the  brightness  of 
the  Father's  glory,"  says  St.  Paul  ;  and 
why  ?  His  next  words  tell  us — he  is  "  the 
express  image  of  his  person."  And  this  too 
was  the  burden  of  that  song  which  astonished 
the  shepherds  at  Bethlehem.  The  multi- 
tude of  the  heavenly  host  sang  there,  "Glo- 
ry to  God  in  the  highest,"  because  never 
before  had  they  seen  the  divine  glory  as 
they  saw  it  then;  no,  not  amid  the  blaze  of 
heaven's  splendors,  as  in  that  stable  and  in 
that  new-born  infant's  frame.  And  could 
we  look  into  heaven  now,  we  sliould  see 
that  same  frame  the  wonder  of  that  lofty 
world.  It  is  "  the  glory  of  God"  even 
there.  "  The  Lamb  is  the  light"  of  heaven, 
and  "  the  nations  of  them  which  are  saved," 
are  said  to  walk  there  in  the  light  which 
that.  Lamb  gives. 

We  discover  then  in  this  scripture  one 
great  object  of  our  Lord's  incarnation. 
God  did  not  take  on  him  our  nature  solely 
that  in  our  nature  he  might  suffer  and 
die,  and  so  make  a  propitiation  for  our 
sins;  he  came  among  moti  that  men  might 
see  and  know  him.     His  incarnation  was 


CflULST  A   SAVIOUIi. 


29 


a  manifestation  of  himsrlf.  He  entered 
tlie  temple  of  iiis  body,  tliat  in  that  tem- 
ple he  might  be  discovered  and  under- 
stood, worshipped,  loved,  and  adored.  You 
must  not  therefore  treat  what  you  have 
heard  to-day,  as  so  much  speculation  ;  as 
something  which  may  be  true,  but  yet  as 
something  you  need  not  trouble  yourselves 
to  understand.  It  is  not  speculation.  It 
is  a  matter  of  fact,  and  a  matter  too  of 
great  practical  moment.  It  is  life  eternal 
to  know  God.  There  is  no  life  in  eter- 
nity for  you  and  me  without  a  knowledge 
of  him.  And  how  are  we  to  know  him  ? 
It  must  be  in  his  own  way  or  not  at  all  ; 
and  that  way  is  in  the  temple  of  his  body, 
t!ie  person  of  his  Son.  If  we  learn  no- 
thing of  him  there,  we  might  as  well  not 
know  that  he  is  there  ;  we  might  as  well 
say  with  the  unbeliever  that  Jesus  is  a 
mere  man.  Nay,  we  act  in  this  respect 
more  irrationally  than  the  unbeliever.  He 
looks  on  our  blessed  Lord  as  man  only, 
and  as  man  he  treats  him.  We  believe, 
or  profess  to  believe,  that  he  is  God,  and 
God  manifested  to  us,  and  yet  we  never 
try  to  see  God  in  him,  never  aim  to  dis- 
cover in  him  the  traces  of  his  Father's 
glory.  But  this  is  not  Christianity,  breth- 
ren. This  is  not  true  Christian  faith.  That 
is  in  every  case  a  practical  thing.  It 
gives  every  thing  we  believe  an  influence 
on  our  conduct ;  it  carries  it  out  into  prac- 
tice. If  we  believe  that  God  is  in  Christ, 
abiding  and  dwelling  in  him,  then  we  as- 
suredly go  a  step  further — we  see  some- 
thing of  God  in  Christ,  and  try  to  see  more. 
What  we  see  delights  us.  It  elevates,  and 
expands,  and  purifies,  while  it  delights  us. 
It  makes  us  long  to  be  in  heaven,  where 
we  shall  see  this  manifestation  of  glory 
in  all  its  brightness ;  and  it  prepares  us 
for  thus  seeing  it.  It  transforms  us.  And 
nothing  but  this  can  transform  us.  Nothing 
can  make  vile  man  resemble  God,  but  a 
contemplation  of  God  as  God  is.  And  if 
we  are  not  like  God,  not  partakers  of  the 
divine  nature,  we  know  whom  we  resem- 
ble, of  whose  nature  we  partake,  and  in 
whose  kingdom  we  shall  soon  bo.  It  fol- 
lows then  that  more  hangs  on  this  matter 
.han  appears  on  the  surface.  The  truths 
you  have  now  been  listening  to,  aim  at 
your  hearts,  as  well  as  your  understand- 
ings. They  aim  at  your  souls ;  they  are 
intended  to  save  your  .souls  from  everlast- 
ing  destruction.     To  know    them    and  to 


yield  to  their  power  is  to  be  in  the  way 
to  heaven ;  to  pass  them  by  and  neglect 
them,  or  to  admire  for  a  moment  and  then 
forget  them,  is  what?  Judgt  for  your- 
selves ;  "  If  our  gospel  be  hid,"  says  Paul, 
"  it  is  hid  to  them  that  are  lost,  in  whoni 
the  god  of  this  world  hath  blinded  tiic 
minds  of  them  which  believe  not,  lest  the 
light  of  the  glorious  gospel  of  Christ,  who 
is  the  image  of  God,  should  shine  wnto 
them." 


SERMON  VI. 

THE  SUNDAY  AFTER  CHRIST.-MAS. 
CHRIST  A  SAVIOUR. 

St.  Matthew  i.  21. — "  Thou  shall  call  his  name 
I      Jesus,  for  he  shall  save  his  people  from  their 
sins." 

An  angel's  words,  brethren,  addressed  t( 
Joseph,  the  reputed  father  of  our  Lord. 
They  call  our  attention,  first,  to  the  work 
our  Lord  came  into  this  sinful  world  to  ac- 
complish, and  then  to  the  name  he  is  to  bear 
here  in  consequence  of  it. 

I.  The  ivork  he  is  to  accomplish,  is  a  most 
great,  glorious,  and  blessed  one  ;  "  He  shall 
save  his  people  from  their  sins." 

"He  shall  save."  Another  scripture 
says,  he  .shall  destroy  ;  "  For  this  purpose 
the  Son  of  God  was  manifested,  that  he 
might  destroy  the  works  of  the  devil." 
There  he  is  a  Destroyer,  here  a  Saviour. 
The  two  characters  however  are  quite  con- 
sistent. He  demolishes  the  works  of  Sa- 
tan, because  these  works  stand  in  his  way 
as  a  Saviour.  Our  salvation  requires  their 
destruction.  They  are  like  the  walls  which 
a  triumphant  deliverer  beats  down,  when 
he  comes  to  the  prisoner's  rescue. 

"  He  shall  save  his  people."  He  is  else- 
where spoken  of  as  "  the  Saviour  of  all 
men  ;"  as  sent  by  his  Father  to  be  "the 
Saviour  of  the  world."  But  here  again  is 
no  contradiction.  We  call  a  man  the  phy- 
sician of  this  or  that  army,  and  why  ?  Be- 
cause he  visits  and  heals  all  in  that  army  ? 
No,  but  because  he  is  appointed  to  heal 
them  ;  his  commission  extends  to  them  all ; 
any  of  them  may  come  to  him  if  they  will, 
and  have  the  benefit  of  his  aid.  So  is  Cirist 
called  the    world's   Saviour,   because   his 


30 


CHRIST  A  SAVIOUR. 


commission  as  -a  Saviour  embraces  the 
world  ;  lie  stands  in  the  relation  of  a  Sa- 
viour to  all  the  fallen  children  of  Adam  ; 
as  many  as  will  may  turn  to  him,  and  find 
him  authorized,  prepared,  and  waiting,  to 
save  them.  ]3ut  those  whom  he  actually 
saves,  are  his  people,  his  own  willing  and 
obedient  people,  the  people  who  come  to 
him  t.o  be  saved.  They  are  the  sick  in  the 
army,  who  believe  in  this  great  Physician's 
skill,  and  find  their  way  to  him,  and  put 
their  cas(>  in  his  hands. 

And  just  observe  how  eager  the  Father 
appears  to  be  to  acknowledge  our  Lord's 
property  in  this  people.  They  are  called 
here,  not  God's  people,  but  Christ's.  And 
yet  they  are  the  very  same  who  are  so  of- 
ten called  elsewhere  the  people  of  God. 
They  were  God's,  but  he  makes  them  over 
to  his  incarnate  Son,  commits  them  into  his 
hands,  gives  him  an  interest  in  them  and  a 
title  to  them.  "  Thine  they  were,"  Christ 
says,  "and  thou  gavest  them  me."  And 
the  Father  does  this  with  a  joyful  haste. 
Before  his  Son  is  born,  they  are  transferred 
to  him.  While  he  is  only  preparing  to  pay 
the  price  for  them,  his  name  is  put  on  them, 
they  are  said  to  be  his.  "  He  shall  save," 
says  the  angel,  "not  his  Father's  people, 
but  his  own." 

And  a'jain — "  He  shall  save  his  people 
from  their  sins.''  The  Jews  expected  their 
Messiah  to  he  a  Saviour,  but  then,  like  Mo- 
ses, or  G'deop,  or  Cyrus,  he  was  to  be  a 
Saviour,  iliey  thought,  from  their  outward 
enemies  ;  a  triumphant  hero ;  one  who 
should  deliver  them  gloriously  from  their 
Roman  masters,  and  establish  again  in  all 
its  extent  and  splendor  the  empire  of  their 
early  kings.  Even  .the  godly  part  of  them 
were  not  free  from  this  notion.  But  this 
angel  comes  and  gives  a  death-blow  at  once 
to  these  fond  expectations.  "  Your  Mes- 
siah shall  be  a  Saviour,"  he  says,  "  but  not 
such  a  Saviour  as  you  anticipate.  He  shall 
deliver  you,  not  from  your  national,  but 
from  your  spiritual  tyrants  ;  not  from  the 
Romans,  but  from  far  worsi'  enemies.  He 
shall  sav  his  people  from  their  sins." 

He  shall  save  them  from  the  penalty  of 
their  sins. 

"  Blessed,"  says  the  psalmist,  "  is  he 
whose  transgression  is  forgiven,  whose  sin 
is  covered;"  and .  the  first  thing  which 
Christ  does  for  us  wiien  he  saves  us,  is  to 
make  his  blessedness  ours.  The  law  of 
God,    like  human  laws,    has  threatenings 


connected  with  it.  It  denounces  a  punish' 
ment  against  all  transgressions  of  it.  Ev- 
ery sin  we  commit,  therefore,  brings  a  pen- 
alty upon  us.  Hence  we  are  said  to  "  heap 
up"  or  accumulate  wrath  to  ourselves 
against  the  day  of  wrath.  But  Christ,  we 
are  told,  "  bare  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on 
the  tree  ;"  that  is,  he  took  the  guilt  and 
punishment  of  them  on  himself  there ;  he 
paid  there  once  for  all  a  sufficient  penalty 
for  them  all  ;  so  that  the  moment  we  come 
to  him  as  a  Saviour,  and  really  believe  on 
him  as  a  Saviour,  all  our  heaped  up  pun- 
ishment is  done  away  with  ;  we  become  in- 
terested in  the  great  propitiation  he  has  of- 
fered ;  and  there  is  no  longer  anv  wrath 
awaiting  us  ;  nay,  there  is  henceforth  no 
sin  imputed  to  us ;  our  iniquities  are  for- 
given, and  our  sins  are  covered. 

And  he  saves  too  from  the  dominion  and 
practice  of  sin — another  happy  deliverance. 

The  dominion  of  sin  is  the  sovereignty 
and  power  which,  by  nature,  sin  exercises 
over  us  all.  Sin,  brethren,  is  not  a  thing 
to  be  taken  up  and  laid  down  at  pleasure. 
It  is  not  something  which  we  can  admit  into 
our  hearts,  and  foster  for  a  little  while  there, 
and  then  turn  out  again.  Where  it  enters, 
it  abides,  we  cannot  turn  it  out ;  and  where 
it  abides,  it  reigns.  It  governs  a  man  as 
an  abject  slave  is  governed  by  his  master. 
Now  Christ,  by  communicating  his  Spirit 
to  them,  undermines,  weakens,  and,  in  the 
end,  destroys  in  his  people  this  lordly  do- 
minion of  sin.  Imparting  to  them  the  di- 
vine nature,  he  imparts  to  them  much  which 
is  altogether  at  variance  with  sin — a  meas- 
ure of  the  divine  loftiness,  constraining  them 
to  look  down  on  sin  as  a  degrading  thing ; 
and  a  measure  of  the  divine  holiness,  be- 
getting in  them  a  hatred  and  loathing  of 
sin  ;  and  a  measure  of  the  divine  strength 
also,  enabling  them  efTectually  to  resist  and 
overcome  it.  And  consequent  upon  this 
giving  way  of  the  power  of  sin  within  them, 
there  is  a  giving  way  in  their  lives  of  all 
their  former  evil  habits  and  practices. 

And  really,  brethren,  if  Christ  did  noth- 
ing else  for  us  than  save  us  thus  from  our 
sins,  he  would  still  be  a  blessed  Saviour  to  us. 
Think  of  the  misery  that  sin  can  inflict  and 
docs  inflict  here  in  this  world  before  we  come 
upon  the  full  harvest  of  it  in  another — misery 
upon  ourselves,  misery  upon  others;  mis- 
er}-  in  our  hearts  and  consciences,  misery 
upon  misery  in  our  families,  misery  round 
about  among   our  friends  and  neighbors. 


CHRIST  A  SAVIOUR. 


SI 


Take  out  of  the  world  the  wretchedness 
wliich  the  sin  of  man  inflicts  on  himself  and 
his  fellow-man,  I  do  not  say,  it  would  be  a 
happy  world,  but  more  than  half  its  bitter- 
est sufferings  would  be  gone.  See  what 
God  thinks  of  a  sah  ation  like  this.  In  one 
passage  of  his  word,  he  declares  it  to  be  the 
great  end  for  which  he  raised  up  for  us  a 
Saviour,  the  one  great  blessing  he  sent 
Christ  into  our  world  to  bring  us.  "  Unto 
you  first,"  says  Peter  to  the  Jews,  "  God, 
having  raised  up  his  Son  Jesus,  sent  him  to 
bless  you,"  and  how  to  bless  you  ?  "  in  turn- 
ing away  every  one  of  you  from  his  iniqui- 
ties." A  blessedness  indeed  !  If  you  have 
experienced  it,  brethren,  you  know  the 
\vorth  of  it.  You  account  it  one  of  the 
greatest  blessings  of  your  life,  if  not  the 
greatest  of  all,  that  a  breach  has  been  made 
between  you  and  your  once  loved  sins ; 
that  you  are  turned  away,  saved,  from  them. 
Other  deliverances  make  you  thankful,  but 
this  often  fills  your  heart  to  overflowing  with 
thankfuli'Css,  and,  at  the  same  time,  with 
wonder  and  joy. 

And  then  Christ  saves  us  too  in  the  end 
from  the  very  existence  of  sin.  I  say  "  in 
the  end,"  for  we  get  not  this  part  of  his  sal- 
vation here.  It  is  one  thing  to  have  sin 
mastered  and  subdued  within  us,  and  an- 
other thing  to  have  it  exterminated.  Those 
of  us  in  whom  it  is  the  most  subdued,  know 
well  enough  that  it  still  dwells  in  them,  and 
dwells  in  them  too,  not  as  a  dead,  inactive, 
powerless  thing,  but  as  a  living,  struggling, 
and  vigorous  thing.  It  is  thrown  down,  but 
were  the  hand  that  has  thrown  it  down  and 
keeps  it  down,  taken  off,  it  would  be  up 
afrain  in  a  moment,  and  we  should  be  tyr- 
annized over  again  by  it  just  as  before. 
But  there  is  an  appointed  time  to  it.  When 
we  wake  up  in  eternity,  we  shall  find,  if  we 
are  the  people  of  Christ,  that  "  the  body  of 
sin"  in  us  is  de.stroyed,  and  entirely  de- 
stroyed. It  will  be  a  strange  feeling,  bre- 
thren, but  a  very  joyfiil  one,  to  look  for  this 
long  hated  thing  within  us,  and  to  find  it 
gone ;  to  put  ourselves  in  our  old  attitude 
of  watchfulness  and  conflict,  and  to  discov- 
er that  there  is  no  enemy  left  for  us  to  fight 
with  or  watch  against;  to  cast  away  self- 
denial,  and  to  know  that  we  may  cast  it 
away ;  to  live  without  sin,  and  to  do  this 
easily,  without  even  striving  or  aiming  to 
do  it,  as  easily  as  we  now  move,  or  speak, 
or  breathe.  This,  we  may  say  again,  will 
indeed  be  blessedness.     Even  .n  heaven, ; 


that  world  of  joy,  it  will  be  felt  to  be  bless- 
edness. There  is  not  only  a  heaven  around 
us,  we  shall  say,  there  is  a  heaven  within 
us.  .  Sin  is  gone.  We  thought  ourselves 
happy  when  it  was  dethroned  in  us;  we 
feel  ourselves  happy  indeed  now  it  i.s  de- 
stroyed. 

And  from  one  thing  more  the  Lord  Jesus 
saves  his  people — from  the  painful  remem- 
brance of  their  sins. 

This  too  is  a  future,  heavenly  deliver- 
ance. Here  on  earth  they  who  have  the 
strongest  assurance  of  pardoning  mercy, 
have  at  times  much  bitterness  of  soul  at  the 
remembrance  of  their  transgressions.  The 
Lord,  they  say,  may  have  blotted  them  out 
from  his  memory,  but  we  cannot  blot  them 
out  from  ours.  Tell  them  of  a  perfect  sal- 
vation, of  perfect  happiness,  and  you  must 
tell  them,  at  the  same  time,  of  a  change 
here.  And  this  change  awaits  them. 
Though  beyond  doubt  we  shall  remember 
our  sins  in  heaven,  it  will  not  be  with  a 
bitter,  pungent  remembrance.  The  mem- 
ory of  them  will  be  that  of  ills  we  have 
escaped,  rather  than  of  evils  we  have  done. 
It  will  not  tear  our  minds  with  anguish ;  it 
will  warm  them  with  thankfulness.  It  will 
sweeten  to  us  the  safety  and  holiness  of 
heaven  ;  and  how  it  will  endear  to  us  the 
Lord  who  has  saved  us,  we  must  be  in 
heaven,  and  look  on  that  Lord  there,  and 
think  of  our  sins  as  we  look  on  him,  before 
we  can  tell. 

And  this  completes  the  salvation  of  which 
the  text  speaks.  The  Lord  Jesus  saves  his 
people  from  the  penalty  of  their  sins — that 
delivers  them  from  hell  ;  from  the  dominion 
and  practice  of  their  sins — that  prepares 
them  for  heaven  ;  from  the  very  existence 
of  sin  within  them — that  qualifies  them  for 
the  full  enjoyment  of  heaven  ;  from  the 
painful  remembrance  of  their  sins — that 
prevents  their  enjoyment  of  heaven  from 
being  interrupted  or  marred. 

II.  We  have  to  look  at  the  name  our 
Lord  is  to  hear  in  consequence  of  this  work 
of  salvation  ;  "Thou  shalt  call  his  name 
Jesus,  for  he  shall  save  his  people  from 
their  sins." 

This  word  in  the  original  Hebrew,  as 
you  are  all  aware,  means  a  Saviour.  It 
was  a  name  well  known  and  in  common 
use  among  the  Jews.  Originally  it  was 
"  Oshea,"  signifying  simply  a  Saviour ; 
but  if  you  will  turn  to  the  tliirfornth  chapter 
of  the  Book  of  Numbers,  you  will  see  that 


32 


CHRIST  A  SAVIOUR. 


Moses,  ill  the  case  of  Oshea,  the  son  of  Nun, 
prefixed  to  it  the  first  syllable  of  the  great 
Jehovah's  name,  making  it  "  Jehoshua,"  a 
divine  Saviour.  This  was  soon  contracted 
to  "  Joshua,"  and  passing  through  the  Greek 
language  to  us,  it  became  "  Jesus." 

The  circumstance  however  to  be  chiefly 
noticed  here,  is  the  divine  appointment  of 
this  name.  It  was  given  our  Lord,  not 
by  his  parents  or  disciples,  but  by  God  him- 
self, and  this  before  he  was  born,  and  twice 
over  before  he  was  born — first,  as  St.  Luke 
tells  us,  in  a  message  to  Mary  his  mother, 
and  afterwards,  as  we  are  told  here  by  St. 
Matthew,  in  another  message  to  Joseph. 
And  it  is  further  remarkable  that  both  these 
evangelists  mention  the  subsequent  affixing 
of  this  name  to  him — St.  Matthew  at  the 
end  of  this  chapter,  and  St.  Luke  in  the 
second  chapter  of  his  gospel.  "  His  name," 
he  says,  "  was  called  Jesus,  which  was  so 
named  of  the  angel  before  he  was  con- 
ceived." 

Now  M'hat  are  we  to  learn  from  this  ? 

1 .  It  discovers  to  us  the  character  in  which 
God  himself  most  delights  in  regarding  his 
Son. 

Angels,  at  God's  bidding,  come  down 
from  heaven  to  give  him  this  name,  to  pro- 
claim him  a  Saviour  ;  a  clear  proof  that 
the  Lord  himself  is  viewing  him  as  a 
Saviour,  and  something  like  a  proof  that  he 
deems  this  his  most  honorable  character, 
that  his  own  mind  dwells  on  him  the  most 
in  this  character,  and  with  the  highest  pleas- 
ure. The  delight  with  which  the  eternal 
Father  regards  his  Son,  is  indeed  a  lofty 
thing  for  creatures  such  as  we  are  to  speak 
of  or  think  of,  but  tiic  Father  himself  invites 
us  to  think  of  it ;  he  himself  speaks  to  us 
of  it.  He  calls  him  in  his  word  his  "  well 
beloved  Son,"  his  "  dear  Son,"  his  "  elect 
in  whom  his  soul  delighteth."  And  this 
delight  in  him,  he  gives  us  reason  to  believe, 
springs,  in  a  great  measure,  from  the  char- 
acter his  Son  sustains  towards  us,  and  the 
work  he  is  so  triumphantly  carrying  on 
among  us,  the  work  of  our  salvation.  It 
is  a  salvation  which  glorifies  every  perfec- 
tion of  the  Godhead,  and  the  Lord  delights 
in  the  manifestation  of  his  own  perfections 
and  glory.  It  is  a  full  outpouring  of  the 
goodness,  a  free  indulgence  of  the  abound- 
ing love,  of  Jehovah,  and  nothing  so  pleas- 
urable to  Jehovah  as  the  indulgence  of  his 
love.  It  is  also  a  making,  for  the  first  time, 
of  the  unholy  pure,  the  saving  of  a  multi- 


tude of  polluted  beings  from  their  sins,  and 
a  holy  God  delights  in  purity.  "  Thou 
shalt  call  his  name  Jesus,  a  Saviour,  for 
he  is  dear  to  me  as  my  people's  Saviour, 
yea,  dearer  than  as  the  partner  of  my 
throne." 

But  doubtless  the  Lord  had  us  in  his 
mind  when  he  ordained  this  name  for  his 
Son. 

2.  It  shows  us  that  he  icoiiM  have  us  re- 
gard hira  chief  y  as  a  Saviour. 

In  the  days  of  old,  he  had  often  conde- 
scended to  give  names  to  men,  and  these 
names,  though  they  might  sometimes  be  ex- 
pressive of  his  own  feelings  towards  them, 
were  more  frequently  descriptive  of  some 
peculiarity  in  the  character  of  these  men, 
or  of  some  particular  work  or  station  for 
which  they  were  designed.  So  when  he 
sends  his  dear  Son  into  the  world,  he  gives 
him  a  name  that  declares  to  the  world  what 
he  is  and  why  he  sends  him.  He  comes 
into  the  world  with  a  name  upon  him,  that 
proclaims  him  openly  the  world's  Saviour. 
This  is  more  than  erecting  a  refuge  for  us 
in  the  storm,  and  setting  wide  open  the  door 
of  it ;  it  is  writing  the  word  "  Refuge"  con- 
spicuously upon  it,  so  that  every  passer  by 
may  see  that  it  is  a  refuge.  "  I  have  given 
you  my  Son,"  says  God,  "  and  what  I  most 
want  of  you,  wretched  sinners,  is,  not  that 
you  should  fall  down  and  adore  him  as  my 
Son,  but  that  you  should  welcome  him  as 
perishing  men  would  welcome  a  deliverer. 
I  have  sent  him  from  heaven  to  earth  to 
save  you,  and  you  shall  call  him  a  Saviour, 
that  you  may  never  forget  wherefore  he  is 
come." 

3.  And  the  Lord  may  have  affixed  this 
name  to  Christ  to  endear  him  the  more  to  our 
hearts. 

If  he  himself  loves  him,  he  must  desire 
us  to  love  him  ;  and  what  so  likely  to  kindle 
our  love  for  him,  as  the  placing  of  him  con- 
tinually before  us  in  the  character  of  a 
Saviour  ?  We  love  him,  and  ought  to  love 
him,  for  his  own  glorious  excellencies,  but 
it  was  not  these,  which  first  taught  us  to 
love  him  ;  it  was  his  own  great  love  for  us 
manifested  in  our  salvation.  He  came  into 
this  miserable  world  to  save  us ;  vile  as  we 
are,  "  he  loved  us  and  gave  himself  for  us  ;" 
while  we  were  yet  his  enemies,  he  died  for 
us  ;  and  when  we  were  so  polluted  that 
nothing  else  could  cleanse  us,  he  "  washed 
us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood  ;" — it  was 
the  belief  of  this,  which  first  touched  our 


CHRIST  A  SAVIOUR. 


33 


hard  hearts  with  love  for  our  Lord,  and  it 
IS  the  rcmeinbrance  of  this  whicli  revives 
ti;at  love  now  when  it  is  languishing,  and 
often  lays  us  down  at  his  feet,  weeping  with 
love  for  him,  and  feeling  that  we  can  never 
love  him  enough.  "  You  .shall  have  liim 
thi^refore,"  says  God,  "ever  before  you  in 
this  soul-affecting,  this  endearing  character. 
I  will  cull  him  Jesus,  and  you  shall  call 
him  Jesus,  that  the  very  sound  of  his  name 
may  remind  you  of  what  he  has  done  for 
you,  and  of  his  claims  on  your  alfections 
and  hearts." 

And  has  not  this  name,  brethren,  often 
wrought  thus  within  you  ?  Have  you  not 
felt  it  to  be  an  endearing  name  ?  You  may 
have  made  but  little  use  of  it  perhaps  among 
your  fellow-men,  for  it  has  seemed  to  you 
almost  too  sacred  for  common  use ;  but 
when  alone,  has  it  not  frequently  been  your 
comfort  and  joy  ?  Have  you  not  delighted  i 
to  use  it  in  your  secret  converse  with  your 
Lord  ?  "  Tiiy  name  is  as  ointment  poured 
forth,"  says  the  church  to  him  ;  "  therefore 
do  the  virgins  love  thee  ;"  and  you  can 
understand  the  language.  Let  a  rich  east- 
ern ointment  be  opened  and  poured  out,  it 
will  fill  a  whole  house  whh  its  odor ;  there 
is  a  fragrance  diffused  around,  tliat  refreshes 
and  delights.  So  has  the  name  of  the  bless- 
ed Jesus  been  to  you.  it  has  delighted 
your  inmost  souls  ;  and  because  of  its  pow- 
er to  delight,  it  has  made  that  Jesus  himself 
seem  more  dear  to  you  and  precious. 

And  now  with  one  practical  remark  we 
may  conclude. 

iVe  see  here  beyond  all  dispute  the  real 
nature  and  design  of  Christ^ s  religion.  What 
is  it  ?  Look  at  this  text,  and  you  will  say, 
it  is  a  deliverance  from  sin.  It  is  not  some- 
thing that  is  to  instruct,  or  improve,  or  com- 
fort men  simply  ;  it  is  something  that  is  to 
save  them  ;  and  it  is  not  to  save  them  from 
this  or  that  evil  or  sorrow — it  strikes  at  the 
root  of  all  evils  and  sorrows  ;  it  is  to  save 
them  from  their  sins.  This  is  the  one  great 
object  and  end  of  it.  Then,  beloved  breth- 
ren, let  us  not  trifle.  Do  not  let  us  act  as 
children,  professing  to  value  Christianity 
and  really  valuing  perhaps  some  things 
connected  with  it,  and  yet  never  thinking 
of  the  great  end  it  is  to  answer,  caring 
nothinlj  about  its  very  soul  and  substance. 
Drowning  men  do  not  content  themselves 
with  admiring  the  form  of  the  life-boat  that 
is  sent  out  to  save  tiiem.  They  remember 
why  it  is  sent,  and  their  great,  their  only 


concern  is  to  lay  hold. of  it  and  get  into  it, 
that  they  may  be  saved.  Are  we  then 
saved  from  our  sins  by  Christ  ?  or  if  not  so, 
are  we  anxiously  seeking  to  be  saved  from 
our  sins  by  him  ?  That  is  the  great  ques- 
tion. 

Many  men  look  to  Christ  for  salvation, 
but  it  is  not  the  salvation  of  which  this  text 
speaks.  It  is  a  distant  thing  ;  a  salvation 
wlien  they  die,  from  some  wretched  jjlace 
they  have  in  their  minds.  But  the  salva- 
tion that  Christ  gives  to  his  people,  is  a 
present  thing  ;  we  have  not  to  wait  for  it 
till  we  die.  It  is  a  change  of  state  now  be- 
fore God,  a  passing  from  a  condemned  into 
a  pardoned  state.  And  it  is  a  change  of 
character,  a  change  of  heart  and  life  ;  the 
giving  way  of  tliat  which  is  earthly,  and 
sensual,  and — I  must  add  another  word,  for 
the  scripture  adds  it — of  that  which  is  devil- 
ish whhin  us,  and  tlie  implantation  within 
us  of  much  that  is  spiritual,  and  heavenly, 
and  divine.  It  is  a  salvation  worthy  of  a 
holy  God  to  give,  and  most  worthy  of  a  ra- 
tional and  immortal  creature  to  receive.  It 
glorifies  the  great  Giver  of  it ;  it  dignifies, 
while  it  delivers  and  purifies,  the  happy  re- 
ceivers of  it.  If  you  are  looking  for  any 
thing  short  of  this,  brethren,  you  will  not 
find  it  in  the  holy  Jesus  or  in  his  holy  gos- 
pel. You  must  go  to  what  St.  Paul  calls 
"  another  gospel"  for  it,  to  a  spurious  Chris- 
tianity. But  if  you  are  looking  for  this  in 
Christ,  this  holy  salvation,  you  will  find  it. 

Take  the  comfort  from  this  name  of  his, 
it  was  given  him  to  afford  you.  He  did  not 
reject  it  wlien  it  was  given  him.  He  did 
not  say  when  they  called  him  Jesus,  '■.'■  Call 
me  by  some  loftier  thle."  No,  he  took  this 
name  on  him  as  though  he  had  chosen  it 
for  himself  He  bore  it  about  with  him  as 
long  as  he  lived  on  earth,  and  when  he  died, 
he  died  with  it  above  him  on  his  cross. 
And  he  bears  it  now.  Think  of  him  on  his 
throne.  He  has  indeed  another  name  writ- 
ten on  him  there  ;  "  King  of  kings,  and 
Lord  of  lords;"  but  when  he  speaks  to  us, 
he  says,  "  Call  me  not  that.  I  am  Jesus 
still,  Jesus  your  Saviour,  I  love  that  name, 
for  I  love  you.  I  will  never  abandon  it. 
My  angels  adore  me  here  as  Jesus  your 
Saviour ;  and  would  you  do  me  honor, 
would  you  put  fresh  joy  into  my  joyful 
heart  ?  Then  look  up  to  me  as  Jesus  your 
Saviour.  Come,  ye  sinful  and  vile,  ye  pol- 
luted and  guilty,  come  and  plead  at  my 
feet  the  name  that  is  put  on  me.     1  will  no« 


34 


THE  MORROW  UNKNOWN. 


disown  it.  I  will  joyfully  act  up  to  it.  For 
my  name's  sake  I  will  pardon  your  iniqui- 
ties, thougli  your  iniquities  be  great.  I 
will  save  you  from  your  sins,  though  your 
sins  be  too  many  to  be  numbered  and  too 
dark  to  be  named." 


SERMON  VII. 

THE  FIRST  SUNDAY  IN  THE  YEAR. 

THE  MORROW  UNKNOWN. 

St.  James  iv.  11. — "  Ye  know  not  what  shall  be 
■     on  the  moiTow.'" 

This  is  nothing  more  than  the  statement 
of  an  undeniable  and  well-known  fact.  No 
one  disputes  it  ;  not  a  man  on  the  face  of 
the  earth  is  ignorant  of  it.  Why  then,  we 
may  ask,  is  it  introduced  into  a  revelation 
from  heaven  ?  Doubtless  to  stamp  it  with 
importance,  to  draw  our  attention  to  it,  to 
lead  us  to  turn  it  to  some  good  account. 

Its  suitableness  as  a  subject  of  meditation 
ifor  us  at  this  time,  is  at  once  clear.  A  new 
year  is  now  opening  on  us,  and  we  are  all 
ready  to  ask.  What  will  it  be  to  us  ?  But 
this  text  checks  us.  "  You  do  not  know," 
it  says,  "  and  you  cannot  know  what  it  will 
be,;  and  your  wisdom  lies  in  not  aiming  to 
know.  Begin  this  year  like  men  who  be- 
lieve .and  feel  "that  they  know  not  what  shall 
be  on  the  morrow." 

That  this  simple  truth  may  be  made  use- 
ful to  us,  let  us  notice,  first,  our  ignorance 
of  futurity  ;  then,  the  probable  reasons  why 
we  are  kept  in  this  ignorance  ;  and  then, 
the  influence  it  ought  to  have  on  our  minds. 

I.  Our  ignorance  is  expressed  by  the 
apostle  in  strong  terms.  "  We  will  go  here 
and  there,"  say  the  people  he  is  addressing, 
"  and  continue  a  year  ;"  but  he  does  not 
talk  to  them  about  the  uncertainty  of  a 
year.  He  does  not  even  say,  "  You  cannot 
reckon  on  months  or  weeks."  "  You  know 
not,"  he  tells  them,  "  what  shall  be  on  the 
morrow.  You  cannot  answer  for  the  events 
of  a  few  short  hours."  Solomon  declares 
tiic  same  truth  in  precisely  the  same  strong 
manger.  "  Boast  not  thyself  of" — wiiat  ? 
years  to  come  ?  No — "  of  to-morrow,  for 
thou  knowest  not  what  a  day  may  bring 
forth."  And  this  is  not  at  all  straining  the 
point.     Our  ignorance  might  be  stated  more 


forcibly  still — the  next  hour  is  hidden  from 
us ;  we  know  not  what  another  momeni 
may  do. 

But  yet  declarations  like  these  must  ba 
understood  with  some  limitation.  We  do 
know  a  little  of  the  future.  A  few  of  its 
events  are  as  much  matters  of  certainty 
with  us,  as  any  transactions  of  the  [-ast  or 
even  of  the  present.  For  instance — I  am 
as  sure  that  I  shall  one  day  stand  at  God's 
judgment-seat,  as  I  can  be  that  I  am  now 
breathing  God's  air.  I  know  that  .Tesus 
Christ  is  coming  to  judge  my  guilty  soul, 
as  certainly  as  I  know  that  he  once  came 
to  save  it.  But  then  how  do  I  know  these 
things  ?  Simply  because  God  has  reveal- 
ed them  to  me.  Shut  up  my  Bible,  and  I 
know  nothing  at  all  of  them. 

Again — without  revelation  we  form  some 
notions  as  to  the  future,  and  often  correct 
notions.  They  do  not  come  up  to  positive 
certainty,  yet  they  approach  very  near  it. 
I  refer  to  the  ideas  we  get  of  the  future  from 
our  experience  of  the  past.  Thus,  I  am 
almost  as  certain  that  the  sun  will  rise  to- 
morrow, as  I  am  that  it  rose  to-day.  If 
I  am  not  quite  sure  that  the  summer  will 
succeed  the  winter,  a  voice  from  heaven 
could  add  little  to  my  expectation  of  it. 

Now  the  apostle,  in  the  text,  does  not  dis- 
pute this  or  any  part  of  it.  All  he  means 
is,  that  as  to  the  great  mass  of  events  about 
to  take  place  in  our  world,  we  know  nothing ; 
that  though  we  may  be  acquainted  with  here 
and  there  a  solitary  fact  because  God  has 
revealed  it  to  us,  or  be  half  acquainted  with 
other  facts  because  experience  leads  us  to 
anticipate  them,  we  have  no  organ  of  vision 
that  will  penetrate  the  future ;  we  are  in 
the  main  completely  ignorant  of  it ;  we  can- 
not see  a  yard  before  us  ;  we  are  as  inca- 
pable of  writing  the  history  of  to-morrow  as 
we  are  the  records  of  eternity. 

If  proofs  were  wanted  of  the  fact,  I  might 
say,  look  back  a  fo.w  years  for  thein. 
What  numberless  and  startling  proofs  of  it 
have  we  witnessed  in  our  own  short  lives  ! 
Ciianges  one  after  another  have  occurred  in 
nations,  in  parishes,  in  families,  around  us, 
that  never  appeared  the  least  likely  to  oc- 
cur. We  no  more  expected  them,  than  we 
look  for  the  rising  of  the  sun  at  midnight. 

And  what  says  our  own  history  ^     Is  it 

the  history  our  imaginations  drew  amid  the 

scenes  of  childhood    and  opening   youth  ? 

Are  we  the  men  we  thought  we  should  be, 

I  and  are  we  in  the  place  and  in  the  condi- 


THE  MORROW  UNKNOWN. 


35 


ion  we  looked  for  ?  Far  otherwise.  A 
r^rarious  God  has  led  us  from  our  cradle 
ro  the  present  hour,  led  us  with  a  love  and 
tenderness  which  have  amazed  us,  and  ac- 
cording to  a  fixed,  determined  plan,  hut  it 
his  been  "  by  a  way  which  we  knew  not, 
and  in  paths  that  we  have  not  known." 

How  strange,  for  instance,  and  unfore- 
seen have  been  the  connections  we  have 
formed  as  we  have  passed  along  !  The 
friends  of  our  youth,  tiiosc  with  whom  we 
began  life  and  whom  we  expected  to  share 
our  sorrows  and  comforts  all  through  it — 
wlicre  are  they  ?  Out  of  our  sight :  for 
the  greater  part,  in  their  graves  ;  the  rest, 
with  scarcely  an  exception,  far  away  from 
us,  and  perhaps  alienated.  And  wlio  are 
those  that  supply  their  place,  and  are  now 
the  dearest  to  our  hearts  ?  Men  who,  a  few 
years  ago,  were  unknown  to  us  ;  we  had 
never,  it  may  be,  even  heard  their  names. 

And  again — look  at  our  situations  in  life 
— some  of  us  are  raised  in  society  beyond 
our  utmost  expectations,  enjoying  an  afflu- 
ence and  honor  which  at  the  outset  of  our 
career  we  never  dreamed  of;  while  others 
are  plunged  into  troubles  and  distresses 
from  which  we  seemed  the  furthest  remov- 
ed. Take  the  history  of  only  a  single  par- 
ish through  a  single  year  ;  glance  over  the 
history  of  your  neighbors  since  the  last  year 
began  ;  think,  some  of  you,  of  the  condi- 
tion of  your  own  families  a  few  short 
months  ago  and  their  condition  now ;  and 
then  resist,  if  you  can,  the  force  of  this 
simple  truth,  "  1  know  not  what  shall  be 
on  the  morrow.  So  unlocked  for,  so  strange, 
so  confounding,  are  the  things  I  have  seen 
and  experienced,  that  I  can  no  more  guess 
what  I  may  see  and  experience  next,  than 
a  babe." 

And  then  to  deepen  this  conviction  of  our 
ignorance,  recollect  how  often,  as  these 
changes  have  been  passing  over  us,  we 
have  mistaken  their  nature  and  bearing. 
We  have  hailed  those  things  as  blessings, 
which  have  proved  our  greatest  sorrows, 
while  we  have  shrunk  from  other  things  as 
cn'ils,  which  have  turned  out  our  chief 
mercies,  "  All  these  things  are  against 
me,"  has  been  the  language  of  our  foolish 
hearts,  and  this  not  when  snares  have  been 
spreading  for  us,  and  earthly  temptations 
have  been  entrapping  us,  and  mischief  to 
us  has  begun,  but  when  all  the  power,  and 
love,  and  wisdom,  of  heaven  have  been  put 
forth  for  our  good. 


And  just  as  it  has  been  it  will  be.  We 
may  think  not.  We  may  conceive  tliat 
the  uncertainties  of  life  are  over  with  us  ; 
that  what  we  have  already  experienced 
has  prepared  us  for  every  possible  vicis- 
situde ;  that  we  have  attained  a  sagacity 
and  foresight  which  will  discern  every  event 
of  the  future  as  it  is  coming  on  ;  but  this  is 
a  delusion.  We  are  as  ignorant  as  ever 
of  what  lies  before  us.  Never  surprised 
again  ?  Why,  brethren,  you  may  be  sur- 
prised to-day  more  than  you  have  ever  been 
yet.  Tidings  more  unexpected  than  any 
you  have  ever  heard,  may  reach  you  be- 
fore this  sun  is  set,  and  turn  you  cold  with 
wonder.  There  is  a  veil  before  the  mor- 
row, which  no  experience  can  pierce.  We 
learn  as  we  grow  older  to  expect  changes, 
but  we  never  learn  to  foresee  what  these 
changes  will  be,  nor  when  they  will  come. 

And  here  the  man  of  God  stands  on  ex- 
actly the  same  level  with  the  man  of  the 
world,  God  teaches  him  many  things,  but 
he  never  teaches  him  this. 

Nor  is  the  word  of  prophecy  of  much 
service  to  us  in  this  matter.  It  announces 
things  to  come,  but  it  envelopes  most  of 
them  in  so  much  darkness,  it  predicts  them 
in  language  so  symbolical  an(i  mysterious, 
that  we  know  little  of  them  till  they  take 
place.  The  event,  and  nothing  but  the 
event,  explains  the  prediction, 

II.  And  now  let  us  turn  to  another  point 
— Ihe  probable  reasons  lohy  we  are  kept  in 
this  stale  of  ignorance. 

1.  //  serves  to  remind  its  of  the  divine 
greatness ;  it  proclaims  to  us  the  boundless 
superiority  of  the  everlasting  God. 

The  height  to  which  infinite  grace  exalts 
a  believer  in  Christ  Jesus,  surpasses  our 
understanding.  He  is  said  to  be  made 
"a  partaker  of  the  divine  nature,"  to  be 
"filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God."  It  is 
promised  him  that  he  shall  awake  up  at 
last  in  his  Redeemer's  likeness,  enter  with 
him  into  the  same  joy,  and  sit  down  with 
him  on  the  same  throne.  Who  can  esti- 
mate or  measure  an  elevation  like  this  ? 
But  let  the  eternal  Jehovah  lift  up  man  as 
he  will,  he  will  ever  leave  him  infinitely 
below  himself;  and  not  only  so,  but,  in  one 
way  or  another,  he  will  ever  bring  info 
clear  and  open  view  the  wide  space  that 
intervenes  between  him  and  himself.  And 
one  mode  whereby  he  does  this,  is  the  igno- 
rance we  are  considering.  Whatever  ne 
gives  us,  he  reserves  his  foreknowledge  to 


36 


THE  MORROW  UNKNOWN. 


himself;  he  imparts  not  an  atom  of  it  to  any 
creature  ;  and  in  this  way  he  forces  on  us 
and  on  all  his  wondering  universe  a  sense 
of  his  greatness. 

Hence  he  often  adduces  his  foreknowl- 
edge as  a  proof  of  his  Godhead  ;  as  some- 
thing characteristic  of  his  divinity,  and 
peculiar  to  it.  "  Produce  your  cause,  bring 
forth  your  strong  reasons,  saith  the  King  of 
Jacob.  Let  them  bring  them  forth,  and 
show  us  what  shall  happen  ;  let  them  show 
the  former  things,  what  they  be,  that  we 
may  consider  them,  and  know  the  latter 
end  of  them  ;  or  declare  us  things  for  to 
come.  Show  the  tilings  tliat  are  to  come 
hereafter,  that  we  may  know  that  ye  are 
gods."  "  I  am  the  Lord,"  lie  says  again, 
"  that  is  my  name  ;  and  my  glory  will  I 
not  give  to  another,  neither  my  praise  to 
graven  images.  Behold,  the  former  things 
are  come  to  pass,  and  new  tilings  do  I  de- 
clare ;  before  they  spring  forth,  I  tell  you 
of  them." 

And  well  adapted,  brethren,  is  this  fore- 
knowledge to  set  fortli  Jciiovah's  greatness, 
and  to  put  into  your  heart  and  mine  a  con- 
sciousness of  our  littleness.  Look  at  man 
— destined  to  live  forever  ;  from  the  instant 
he  starts  into  being,  claiming  as  his  own 
every  moment  of  an  endless  eternity  ;  as 
sure  of  it  as  he  is  of  his  present  existence, 
and  yet  so  ignorant  of  it,  that  he  knows 
nothing  of  even  the  next  hour,  nay,  he  can- 
not see  to  the  fend  of  this  !  And  now  look 
at  God.  "  He  knoweth  the  end  from  the 
beginning."  He  has  every  event  of  every 
moment  ever  before  his  mind.  He  is  as 
familiar  with  tlie  movements  of  everlasting 
ages,  as  with  those  of  yesterday  or  to-day. 
Man  speculating,  and  reasoning,  and  striv- 
ing;  grappling  with  the  future  all  his  life 
long  ;  often  tearing  at  the  veil  before  him, 
as  though  he  defied  omnipotence  to  keep  it 
there;  and  yet,  after  all,  knowing  nothing  ; 
God  never  striving  at  all,  but  penetrating 
the  future  at  a  glance,  surveying  eternity, 
in  all  its  length  and  breadth,  without  a 
movement  or  an  effort. 

2.  This  ignorance  is  calculated  also  to 
remind  us  of  our  suhjeclion  to  God. 

We  arc  all  "  under  God's  mighty  hand  ;" 
not  within  his  reach  merely,  but  actually 
within  his  grasp,  so  that  we  are  controlled 
by  him  every  moment,  and  are  unable  to 
move  a  step  either  backward  or  forward,  to 
he  right  hand  or  the  left,  but  as  he  permits 
us.     And  what  in  our  natural  condition  do 


we  know  of  this  ?  Nothing  at  all.  There 
is  a  spirit  of  independence  in  our  fallen 
nature,  which  not  only  spurns  all  heavenly 
control,  but  actually  blinds  our  eyes  to  the 
existence  of  any  such  control.  We  wish  to 
be  free,  and  we  imagine  we  are  so.  We 
accordingly  lay  our  plans  and  set  about 
our  projects,  exactly  as  though  we  were 
our  own  masters,  without  any  reference  to 
God  or  any  suspicion  whatever  of  his  inter- 
ference with  us.  "  To-day  or  to-morrow," 
we  say,  "  we  will  go  into  such  a  city,  and 
continue  there  a  year,  and  buy,  and  sell,  and 
get  gain."  We  go,  but  what  takes  place  ? 
Events  that  we  did  not  foresee,  suddenly 
rise  up  and  baffle  us.  They  first  hamper 
our  schemes,  and  then  demolish  them.  We 
find  out  tliat  we  have  been  calculating  in 
the  dark.  We  are  forced  to  feel  that  we 
are  not  our  own  masters  nor  the  authors  of 
our  own  destinies,  that  there  is  a  hand 
which  overrules  us  and  all  that  befalls  us. 
We  are  reminded,  in  fact,  of  a  forgotten 
God.  Our  ignorance  of  the  future  brings 
our  best  laid  schemes  to  ruin  ;  our  ruined 
schemes  tell  us  of  our  dependence  on  the 
world's  great  Master.  The  truth  comes 
out — we  are  "  under  the  mighty  hand  of 
God  ;"  and  though  we  may  struggle  under 
that  hand,  and  spurn  the  control  it  exer- 
cises, we  see  that  we  cannot  escape  from 
it ;  we  are  constrained  to  feel  its  existence 
and  yield  to  its  power.  And  tlien  perhaps 
at  last  we  are  brought  to  the  spirit  the  apos- 
tle inculcates  in  the  verse  following  the 
text.  We  begin  to  speculate  and  plan 
again.  Again  it  is,  "  We  will  go  here  and 
there,"  but  this  is  not  all.  We  now  bring 
God  into  our  schemes.  We  lay  tliem  be- 
fore him  ;  we  remember  that  their  success 
depends  entirely  on  him.  It  is  still  as  be- 
fore, "We  will  do  this  or  that,"  but  tiien 
comes  in  this  one  short  saying  more,  "  If 
the  Lord  will" — making  all  the  dilference 
between  the  independence  of  a  rebel,  and 
the  subjection  that  becomes  a  creature. 

And  this  is  the  design  of  the  gospel, 
brethren.  Tiie  two  things  I  have  now 
mentioned,  are  precisely  those,  or  some  of 
those,  intended  to  be  accomplished  by  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  To  make  God 
every  thing  and  man  nothing  ;  to  set  Jeho- 
vah on  "a  throne  high  and  lifted  up,"  and 
to  lay  you  and  me  in  the  dust ;  to  give  the 
great  Creator  his  own  glory  and  the  potty 
creature  his  own  place  ;  the  gospel  aims  at 
this,  at  this  chiefly  and  this  supremely,  and 


THE  INIORROW  UNKNOWN. 


3t 


so  does  the  darkness  that  hangs  over  the 
hereafter.  View  this,  or  view  any  of  God's 
dispensations  in  their  true  light,  they  have 
the  same  objects  in  view  as  the  gospel  has, 
they  all  meet  in  the  same  point.  The 
same  hand  is  seen  in  them,  the  same  design 
manifested,  the  same  God  over  all  is  re- 
vealed and  glorified.  It  is  no  mark  then 
of  a  spiritual  mind  to  despise  these  com- 
mon-place truths.  He  has  learned  the  most 
of  the  gospel,  who  looks  the  most  for  the 
God  of  the  gospel  in  every  thing  ;  who  re- 
cognises him  where  others  see  himnot,  and 
turns  all  his  dispensations,  all  truths,  and 
all  events  and  circumstances,  to  the  holiest 
account. 

III.  We  have  yet  another  point  before 
us — Ihc  iujluetice  which  our  ignorance  offu- 
turilij  ought  to  have  on  us. 

1 .  It  should  check  us  from  presuming  on 
the  future.  It  says  to  us  most  plainly  and 
loudly,  "  You  are  all  wrong.  You  are 
treating  that  as  certain,  which  is  uncertain. 
You  are  calculating  for  weeks,  and  months, 
and  years,  before  you  ;  but  there  may  not 
be  a  day  before  you  ;  or  if  there  are  many 
days,  you  know  not  what  one  of  them  will 
he]  not  even  that  which  is  nearest  to  you. 
You  know  not  what  shall  be  on  the  mor- 
row. Boast  not,  therefore,  of  the  morrow. 
Presume  not  on  its  coming,  much  less  on 
its  br-ing  the  morrow  you  expect." 

But  we  must  not  push  things  to  extremes. 
The  Bible  never  does  so.  It  lays  truth 
before  us  and  says,  "  Receive  it ;  act  on 
it  ;"  but  it  does  not  say,  "  Look  at  this 
truth  only  ;  let  nothing  else  influence  you 
besides  this."  Thus  in  the  present  case — 
the  future  is  for  tlie  greater  part  hidden 
from  us  ;  we  are  not,  therefore,  to  presume 
on  the  future  ;  we  are  not  to  lay  our  plans, 
as  though  times  and  circunisfances  were 
at  our  disposal.  And  yet  in  half  the  things 
we  do,  we  must  look  forward  ;  we  must 
act  for  the  future,  and  often  for  a  remote 
future,  even  distant  years  to  come.  How 
otherwise  would  the  system  of  life  go  on  ? 
Instinct  teaclies  even  the  brute  creation  to 
look  forward.  "  The  ant  provideth  her 
meat  in  the  summer,  and  gathereth  her 
food  in  the  harvest."  And  reason  bids  us 
do  the  same.  It  is  not  our  duty  for  the 
morrow,  our  laboring  to  be  provided  for  it, 
that  is  condemned  ;  it  is  our  dependence  on 
it.  "Go  to  now,"  the  apostle  says,  "  ye 
that  say.  To-day  or  to-morrow  we  will  go 
into  such  a  citv,  and  continue  there  a  year, 


and  buy,  and  sell,  and  get  gain ;"  and 
what  evil  is  there  in  this  ?  Great  evil, 
brethren  ;  not  in  the  buying  and  selling, 
not  in  the  foresight  and  diligence,  not  in 
any  thing  we  find  expressed  here,  but 
in  an  omission  we  find  here — there  is  no 
reference  here  to  God.  There  is  presump- 
tion in  these  men,  for  these  men  have  left 
uncertainty,  and  consequently  they  have 
left  God,  out  of  their  schemes.  They  ieel 
sure  of  life,  they  calculate  on  gain  and 
success  as  a  matter  of  course  from  their 
own  resources,  and  in  this  lies  their  sin. 
This  constituted  the  boasting  and  rejoicing 
which  the  sixteenth  verse  speaks  of  as 
"  evil."  A  slight  addition  to  it  would  have 
made  this  sinful  language  right.  The  apos- 
tle does  not  tell  them,  "  Ye  ought  not  to 
say  this."  He  only  says,  "Ye  oiigiit  to 
say  one  word  more — If  the  Lord  will,  we 
shall  live,  and  do  this  or  that." 

What  this  scripture  says  to  us  is,  "  Act 
as  wise  men.  You  know  little  or  nothing 
about  the  future  ;  do  not  act  as  though  you 
knew  it  all.  Your  life  is  a  vapor,  a  ligiit, 
fleeting,  unsubstantial  thing;  do  not  treat 
it  as  though  it  were  a  solid,  permanent  re- 
ality. You  are  not  sure  of  being  alive  to- 
morrow ;  cease  to  calculate  on  being  alive 
to-morrow.  Build  not  on  a  fallacy.  Do 
not  get  on  a  quicksand,  and  act  as  though 
you  were  on  a  rock.  Do  not  say,  "  The 
world  and  the  world  only  now  ;  my  soul  a 
few  years  hence."  Where  are  the  years 
you  speak  of?  God  grant  you  may  see 
them  and  become  in  them  all  you  antici- 
pate !  but  this  you  and  I  both  know,  that 
there  may  be  a  grave  between  you  and 
them  ;  that  you  may  be  lying  dead  in  it 
before  this  very  year  is  gone.  O  the  mad- 
ness of  our  hearts,  brethren  ! — What  fools 
can  men  become,  when  men  live  estranged 
from  God  !  We  know  that  we  shall  die  ; 
we  know  that  we  may  die  in  a  day  or  an 
hour.  We  would  deny  it  if  we  could,  but 
it  is  not  to  be  denied  or  concealed.  And 
yet  how  do  we  live  ?  Tell  me,  were  the 
sentence  of  mortality  against  us  to  be  re- 
pealed, or  were  we  this  moment  to  be  in 
any  way  secured  from  it  for  a  thousand 
vears  to  come,  what  would  the  next  week 
of  our  life  be  ?  In  many  cases,  precisely 
like  the  past.  Our  situation  wouhl  be 
changed,  wonderfully  changed  ;  our  con- 
duct would   be  the  same.      What  then  are 


we?      Wise  men?     So  say    at  tnufs  our 
own  vain  hearts  :   but  there  is  a  still  smal' 


38 


THE  BARREN  FIG-TREE. 


voice  from  above,  that  whispers  secretly  to 
each  of  us  and  says,  "  Thou  fool  !" 

2.   Our  ignorance  of  the  future  sliould 
check  too  our  anxiety  for  the  future. 

Whatever  the  divine   dispensations   may 
be,  we  may  be   sure  of  this,   that  there  is 
always  naturally  in  our  hearts  a  strong  re- 
pugnance to  them.     They  are  all  intended 
to  exalt  God,  and  to  exalt  him,  as  we  con- 
ceive, at  our  expense  ;  we  feel  them    de- 
grading to  us,  and  consequently  we  dislike 
them.     And    some  measure  of  this  dislike 
of  them    continues   even   in   the    renewed 
mmd.     There  is  a  frequent  effort  even  in 
the  holiest  of  men  to  set  them   aside  or  to 
rise  above  them.     It  is  thus  in  the  case  be- 
fore us.     "  I  will  hide  the  future  from  you," 
says  God.     "  You  shall  never  know  what 
a  day  will    bring  forth."     "Thy  will  be 
done,"  says  the  man  of  God  ;  "  1  am  con- 
tent to  be  thus  ignorant."     But  look  at  him. 
He    is   dejected    and    care-worn,    feverish 
through  the  day  and  sleepless  through  half 
the  night ;  and  what  has  made  him  so?  He 
has  been  trying  to  set  aside  God's  will  ;  he 
has  been  groping  into  the  future  ;  he  has 
looked,  as  he  thinks,   into  coming  years ; 
and  that  has  made  him  wretched.     He  fan- 
cies he  has  seen  there  calamity  and  misery. 
"  In  a  situation  like  mine,"  he   says,   "  I 
must  be  blind  not  to  discover  the  sorrows 
before  me.     I  do  not  pretend  to  know  all 
the  future,  but  this  I  must  know — a  man  at 
the  close  of  day  might  as  well  remain  igno- 
rant of  coming -midnight — that  it  will  be  to 
me  a  future  of  desolation  and  wretchedness. 
The  ^prospect  of  it  harasses  and  dismays 
me."     Need  I   lay  open  to  you,  brethren, 
the  secret  of  your  disquietude  ?     It  is  sim- 
ply this — you  are  invading  God's  province  ; 
you  are   laboring  to  penetrate  what  he  has 
determined  shall   lie  concealed  ;  and  your 
sin  is  your  punishment.     If  you  would  find 
rest  for  your  souls,  you  must  turn  from  the 
scenes   your   imagmation   has   painted,    to 
God.     They,  you  may  be  almost  sure,  are 
unreal  ;  he,  you  are  quite  sure,  is  near  to 
help    you    in    any   scenes,    to    carry   you 
through  any  troubles,  and  uj)hold  you  in 
any  sorrows.     You  must  substitute  faith  for 
thought,  trust  for  inquiry,  and   for  all  the 
foresight  you  think  you  have  gained,  sub- 
mission.    All  you  know  of  futurity  is  not 


take."  "  He  knoweth  thy  walking  through 
this  great  wilderness."  He  foresees  all  tirat 
is  coming  on  you  in  it,  and  he  has  provided 
for  all ;  yes,  he  provided  for  every  want  and 
sorrow  you  can  ever  know,  before  vou 
came  into  being,  and  has  left  you  nothing 
to  care  about  but  this,  "  to  win  Christ  and 
be  found  in  him  ;"  to  lay  hold  of  his  sal- 
vation ;  to  hold  fast  by  him  for  a  few  short, 
stormy  years,  and  then  to  enter  into  his 
everlasting  joy.  Look  forward  you  may,  but 
let  it  not  be  into  the  low,  dark  valley  of  un- 
certainties that  lies  immediately  before  you 
— a  confused,  misty  scene  you  cannot  pene- 
trate ;  look  over  it.  Lift  "^up  your  eyes  to 
the  bright  hills  that  rise  beyond  it.  There 
they  are,  resting  on  their  everlasting  foun- 
dations, and  O  the  blessedness  of  even  a 
distant  glimpse  of  them  !  We  no  longer 
heed  then  the  valley's  darkness  or  the  yaX- 
ley's  roughness.  We  rather  say,  "  There 
is  light,  there  is  rest,  there  is  heaven,  before 
us;"  and  go  on  our  way  rejoicing. 


SERMON  VIII. 

THE    EPIPHANY. 

THE  BARREN  FIG-TREE. 

St.  Luke  xiii.  7,  8.—"  Then  said  he  unto  the 
dresser  of  his  vineyard.  Behold,  these  three 
years  I  come  seeking  fruit  on  this  fig-tree,  and 
find  none ;  cut  it  down  ;  why  cumbercth  it  the 
ground  7  And  he  anstoering  said  unto  him, 
Lord,  let  it  alone  this  year  also.'" 


anil  a  tormenting  one.  You 
tent  to  be  without  it.  Here  i 
lation,  "  the  Lord  knoweth  the  w'ay  thai  you 


must  be  con- 
s  your  conso- 


OuR  liveliest  feelings  perhaps  on  entering 
a  new  year,  are  those  of  thankfulness  for 
the  goodness  and  mercy,  the  abounding 
goodness  and  never  failing  mercy,  which 
have  brought  us  hitherto.  But  there  are 
other  feelings  whici)  ought  to  have  a  place 
in  our  minds  at  this  time.  We  have  bless- 
ings to  be  answerable  for  as  well  as  thank- 
ful for — personal  blessings,  fiimily  bless- 
ings, national  blessings,  and,  above  all, 
spiritual  privileges  and  blessings.  It  is  of 
these  last,  that  the  parable  ni  the  text 
speaks  ;  and  our  church  also  is  now  speak- 
ing  to  us  of  them.  By  calling  on  us  to 
commemorate  the  manifestation  of  Clirist 
to  the  Gentiles,  it  reminds  us  of  the  privi- 
leges which  we  enjoy  above  our  heathen 
fathers  in  consequence  of  that  manifestation. 


THE  BARREN  FIG-TREE 


39 


The  Lord  grant  that  we  may  leave  these 
walls  this  morning  impressed  anew  with  our 
deep  responsibility  for  them  ! 

"  A  certain  man,"  says  our  Lord,  "  had 
a  fig-tree  planted  in  his  vineyard."  Tliis 
certain  man  represents  God,  this  fig-tree  a 
nominal  Christian. 

I.  Notice  the  situation  of  the  tree,  the 
place  where  it  stands.  It  is  in  God's  vine- 
yard, and  our  Lord  tells  us  how  it  came 
there.  The  vineyard  was  not  its  natural 
situation.  It  did  not  spring  up  there,  nor 
was  it  brought  there  by  accident.  God 
himself  had  it  planted  there.  An  emblem, 
brethren,  of  our  situation  at  this  hour, 
and  of  the  way  in  which  we  came  into  it. 
You  and  I  arc  in  God's  vineyard.  We 
are  standing  in  the  midst  of  God's  church, 
and  it  is  God  himself  who  has  placed  us  in 
it.  Our  spiritual  privileges  are  not  things 
of  course.  They  are  not,  like  the  air  and 
the  light,  our  natural  inheritance,  the  com- 
mon bounties  of  God's  providence.  Look 
through  the  world — how  many  of  our  fel- 
low creatures  can  we  find  who  are  blessed 
as  we  are  ?  Tiie  heart  aches  as  we  attempt 
to  answer  the  question.  It  is  no  vineyard, 
it  is  a  wilderness,  in  which  the  great  mass 
of  our  fellow-sinners  are  standing,  a  deso- 
late wilderness  ;  whereas  we  in  Christian 
England  and  in  this  Christian  parish,  are 
in  a  cultivated  and  fertile  field,  or  rather  in 
a  garden  which  the  Lord  has  taken  out  of 
that  wilderness,  and  set  apart  for  himself. 

II.  See  next  what  is  expected  from  this 
tree.  Is  it  that  it  shall  take  root  and  grow 
where  it  is  planted,  and  receive  the  show- 
ers of  heaven  as  they  fall  on  it  ?  We  may 
say,  "  Yes  ;"  but  God  says,  "  No,  this  will 
not  satisfy  me.     I  come  to  it  seeking  fruit." 

And  what  is  this  fruit?  It  is  not  those 
things  which  some  of  us  perhaps  have  now 
in  our  minds,  the  social  and  moral  virtues, 
charity,  honesty,  and  such  like.  These 
are  all  good  in  their  way,  but  these  are 
fruits  of  nature's  growth.  The  wild  fig- 
tree  will  produce  them.  The  heathen  and 
idolater  will  bring  them  forth.  The  tree 
our  Lord  speaks  of,  is  a  tree  in  a  vineyard, 
a  planted  and  cultivated  tree,  and  some- 
tliiiig  more  than  fruit  of  this  common  kind 
is  expected  from  it. 

Turn  to  the  fifth  chcipter  of  Isaiah.  God 
is  described  there  as  enclosing  and  planting 
a  vineyard  for  himself.  He  goes  to  it  for 
fruit,  and  he  finds  it,  but  of  what  kind  ?  Of 
just  the  same  kind  as  these  vines  would 


have  produced  if  he  had  left  them  alone, 
if  he  had  sufllered  them  to  grow  in  the  de- 
sert in  nature's  wildness.  Twice  over 
he  says,  "  I  looked  that  it  should  bring 
forth  grapes,  and  it  brouglit  forth  wild 
grapes;"  and  for  this  he  lays  that  vine- 
yard waste.  So  with  us.  Social  virtues 
and  heathen  virtues  will  not  satisfy  God  in 
us.  He  wants  fruit  from  us  corresponding 
to  the  privileges  he  has  bestowed  uj)on  us ; 
not  only  more  fruit  than  any  heathen  could 
render  him,  but  fruit  of  another  kind, 
Christian  fruit,  such  fruit  as  nothing  but 
the  gospel  of  Christ  can  produce,  and  none 
but  men  planted  in  his  church  and  brought 
under  the  influence  of  that  gospel,  ever 
yielded  him. 

He  addresses  us  in  his  gospel  as  sinners. 
He  makes  himself  known  to  us  as  the  sin- 
ner's Saviour  and  God.  He  tells  us  that 
he  is  full  of  pity  and  love  for  sinners,  and 
has  done  more  for  them  than  for  any  other 
creatures  in  his  universe  ;  and  what  he 
demands  from  us  is,  that  we  should  feel 
towards  him  and  act  towards  him  as  sinners 
ought  to  feel  and  act  towards  such  a  God. 
He  wants  in  us  sorrowful  hearts  for  the  sins 
we  have  committed  against  him,  and  be- 
lieving hearts  to  embrace  and  confide  in 
the  love  he  bears  us,  and  thankful  hearts  to 
praise  and  adore  him  for  the  wonderful 
mercy  he  has  shown  us.  The  husband- 
man desires  from  his  vines  and  fig-trees 
such  fruit  as  will  testify  to  every  be- 
holder  of  the  care  and  culture  he  has  be- 
stowed on  them  ;  so  God  desires  from  us 
such  fruit  as  will  proclaim  to  every  one 
what  he  has  done  for  us.  Look  again  to 
the  prophecy  of  Isaiah.  There,  in  the  sixty- 
first  chapter,  the  whole  work  of  Christ  in 
his  church  is  set  forth  ;  and  what  is  the 
great  object  he  is  said  to  be  aiming  at  in  it 
all  ?  It  is  that  his  people  "  may  be  called 
trees  of  righteousness,  the  planting  of  the 
Lord,  that  he  might  be  glorified."  The 
fruits  God  wants  in  us  are  "  the  fruits  of 
righteousness,  which  are  by  Jesus  Christ  to 
the  glory  and  praise  of  God." 

III.  And  now  go  on  to  another  point  in 
the  parable — the  scruiiny  this  fig-tree  draws 
on  itself 

Observe,  the  owner  of  the  vineyard  does 
not  forget  the  tree  when  he  has  jjjanted  it, 
nor  does  he  sit  at  home  waiting  for  his  ser- 
vants to  bring  him  the  produce  of  it  when 
there  is  any  ;  he  is  described  as  coming 
again  and  again  into  his  vineyard,  and  go- 


40 


THE  BARREN  FIG-TREE. 


ing  up  to  this  tree  and  examining  it.  "  He 
came  and  sought  fruit  thereon;"  he  was 
anxious  about  the  matter,  anxious,  not  only 
to  gather  the  fruit  if  he  could  find  any,  but 
also  not  to  overlook  it  if  there  should  be 
some. 

How  anxiously,  brethren,  do  we  minis- 
ters sometimes  look  among  our  people  for 
the  fruits  of  the  gospel  !  And  tliose  who 
are  parents  amongst  us,  how  earnestly  do 
we  watch  our  children  in  order,  if  possible, 
to  find  some  good  thing  in  them  to  gladden 
us  !  And  look  at  the  gardener  and  tlie  hus- 
bandman going  over  the  scene  of  their  la- 
bors, and  examining,  the  one  every  field, 
and  the  other  almost  every  tree  and  plant. 
But  what  is  all  this  to  the  scrutiny  which 
the  living  God  takes  of  us  ?  Our  Christian 
friends  watch  us,  our  unchristian  enemies 
watch  us,  angels  in  heaven  watch  us,  and 
the  devils  that  roam  the  earth  watch  us,  but 
none  watch  us  like  God.  We  do  not  see 
him  as  he  stands  by  our  side  ;  the  great 
Observer  of  us  is  invisible  and  his  scrutiny 
a  silent  one  ;  we  think  no  more  of  him  per- 
haps than  a  tree  in  our  garden  thinks  of  us 
as  we  walk  by  it ;  but  he  marks  every  one 
of  us  every  hour  with  the  most  searching 
attention.  He  listens  to  our  words,  he  ac- 
quaints himself  with  our  doings.  He  fol- 
lows us  wherever  we  go,  from  our  beds  to 
our  tables,  and  from  our  tables  to  our  occu- 
pations, then  to  our  amusements  and  pleas- 
ures, and  then  to  our  beds  again.  We 
cannot  for  one  "moment  get  away  from  his 
eye.  And  all  this  while  he  is  not  taking  a 
merely  superficial  glance  at  us ;  he  is 
searching  our  inmost  hearts,  looking  us 
through  and  through.  David  felt  this. 
"  Thou  art  about  my  path,"  he  says,  "  and 
about  my  bed,  and  spiest  out  all  my  ways. 
Thou  hast  searched  me  and  known  me ; 
thou  understande-st  my  thoughts." 

It  is  surely  an  awful  thing,  brethren,  for 
creatures  such  as  we  arc,  to  be  subject  to 
such  a  scrutiny  as  this  ;  and  yet  there  is 
something  cheering  as  well  as  solemn  in 
the  thought  of  it,  cheering,  I  mean,  to  the 
sincere  and  contrite  soul.  "  I  am  ready  to 
tremble,"  such  a  man  says,  "  v.-hen  I  think 
that  a  holy  God  is  continually  searching 
me,  but  yet  I  am  thankful  that  he  thus 
searches  me.  I  can  sometimes  find  no  fruit 
of  the  gospel  within  my  heart,  but  even  then 
perhaps  he  can.  If  it  is  there,  I  know  he 
will  find  it.  No  matter  how  low  down  it 
lies,  what  corruptions  hide  it,  with  what  a 


heap  of  rubbish  it  is  mixed,  if  he  has  pu* 
any  good  thing  in  my  heart  towards  him,  he 
sees  it  in  my  heart ;  yes,  and  it  may  be, 
that  while  I  am  tempted  to  regard  myself 
as  one  of  the  vilest  cumberers  of  the  ground 
that  the  ground  bears,  cankered,  and  blight- 
ed, and  fit  only  for  the  axe  and  the  burning, 
it  may  be  that  my  God  is  rejoicing  over  the 
work  of  his  own  grace  in  my  soul  ;  is  point- 
ing it  out  to  his  angels,  and  bidding  them 
mark  how  he  will  cherish  and  increase  it." 

IV.  Observe  the  marvellous  patience  of 
God  jvith  this  unfruitful  tree;  "Behold, 
these  three  years  I  come  seeking  fruit  on 
this  fig-tree,  and  find  none." 

There  is  surprise,  you  observe,  expressed 
in  this  language  ;  surprise,  it  may  be,  at 
the  unfruitfulness  of  such  a  tree  in  such  a 
place.  And  if  there  is  a  wonderful  thing 
to  be  found  in  the  universe,  it  is  a  sinner 
planted  in  the  church  of  Christ,  and  listen- 
ing year  after  year  to  the  gospel  of  Christ, 
and  yet  unmoved,  unaffected,  by  that  gos- 
pel, the  same  in  heart  and  life  as  though 
he  heard  it  not. 

But  though  surprise  at  the  sinner's  un- 
fruitfulness may  be  implied  here,  yet  it  is 
surprise  at  God's  patience  towards  him, 
that  these  words  seem  chiefly  to  express. 
The  Lord  speaks  in  them  as  though  he  him- 
self were  wondering  at  his  own  patience. 
You  and  I,  brethren,  cannot  estimate  this 
patience,  but  consider — God  has  placed  us 
in  his  vineyard,  not  secretly,  but  in  the  face 
of  all  heaven  and  hell.  His  creatures  in 
other  worlds  are  watching  his  proceedings 
with  us.  They  are  privy  to  all  the  spiritual 
mercies  with  which  he  has  surrounded  us, 
and  all  the  means  of  grace  and  salvation 
he  has  vouchsafed  us.  That  precious  Bible 
he  has  placed  in  our  hands,  they  see  ;  the 
sermons  that  are  preached  to  us,  they  hear  ; 
and  as  they  hear  tliem,  they  look  on  us  to 
see  their  effects  on  us.  'Now  for  God  to 
be,  as  it  were,  baffled  in  his  purposes  ;  for 
him  to  plant  the  tree,  and  the  tree  to  bring 
forth  no  fruit  ;  for  him  to  be  watching  us 
week  after  week  and  year  after  year,  lon<r- 
ing  to  see  this  and  that  effect  of  his  gospel 
in  us,  and  yet  never  seeing  it  ;  and  all  the 
while  i'ov  him  to  hear  tiiis,  and  go  on  brar- 
ing  it — we  may  think  lightly  of  sudi  (l)r- 
bearance,  but  be  assured  that  there  is  won- 
der in  heaven  and  wonder  in  hell  on  ac- 
count of  it.  The  Lord  did  not  deal  tiius 
with  the  angels  who  rebelled  against  him. 
Patience  in   their  case  was  not  heard   of. 


THE  BARREN  FIG-TREE. 


41 


In  his  righteous  anger,  he  drove  them  at 
once  into  a  world  of  darkness.  But  look  at 
some  of  us — we  have  been  rebels  against 
him  ever  since  we  were  born,  sinning 
acainst  him  every  hour  of  our  existence, 
despising  alike  his  displeasure  and  his  fa- 
vor, his  goodness  and  his  justice,  making 
light  of  his  law  and  light  of  his  gospel ;  and 
yet  where  are  we  ?  Living  still  in  a  world 
of  mercy,  left  standing  even  yet  in  the 
vineyard  of  his  church,  objects  at  this  very 
moment  of  his  thoughts  and  care.  "  Be- 
hold," he  says,  "  I  still  come  scekinfj  fruit 
of  thee,  though  I  have  come  to  thee  all  thy 
life  long  and  have  found  none."  O  breth- 
ren, if  any  of  you  feel  at  the  beginning  of 
this  year  that  you  have  nothing  else  to 
bless  God  for,  bless  him  for  his  patience, 
his  wonderful  patience,  towards  you.  Bless 
him  that  you  are  still  breathing  the  air  of 
this  favored  world,  and  listening  still  to  his 
often  heard  and  long  despised  offers  of 
peace. 

V.  But  mark  the  d/splrasiire  expressed  at 
last  against  this  imfridlful  tree. 

And  we  no  sooner  look  at  this,  than  we 
discover  a  new  light  thrown  by  it  on  the 
divine  patience.  We  think  little  of  God's 
forbearance  with  us,  because  we  do  not 
know  how  we  are  every  moment  displeas- 
ing and  provoking  him.  We  regard  him 
as  an  indifferent  observer  of  his  vineyard  ; 
as  a  careless  father  of  his  family,  as  one  to 
whom,  in  the  multiplicity  of  his  afTairs,  it 
is  a  matter  of  little  concern  how  his  chil- 
dren  feel  towards  him  or  how  they  act ; 
but  there  is  no  father  among  us,  who  cares 
for  his  children  as  God  cares  for  us  ;  there 
is  no  father  who  hates  that  which  is  evil  in 
his  children,  as  God  hates  it  in  us.  All  the 
time  he  is  bearing  with  us,  we  are  grieving 
his  Holy  Spirit ;  he  is  bearing  with  us,  if  I 
may  so  speak,  with  a  tried  and  wounded 
heart,  witli  a  iioart  that  many  an  anguished 
father  can  understand — it  loves,  but  yet 
mourns  over  the  object  that  it  loves;  in 
spite  of  all  its  fond  affection  for  it,  it  is  con- 
strained to  be  angry  with  it  and  displeased. 
And  this  makes  the  displeasure  of  God  so 
f(-arful  when  at  last  it  comes.  It  is  a  dis- 
pleasure which  has  long  been  kept  under. 
It  comes  upon  us  after  long  forbearance 
with  us.  It  is  something  which  has  tri- 
umphed over  great  love  and  great  patience  ; 
not  the  flowing  of  a  stream  that  has  always 
had  a  free  course,  moving  along  in  an  un- 
obstructed channel,  it  is  a  river  bursting 
6 


through  barriers  which  have  long  dammed 
it  up,  and  pourmg  forth  its  accumulated 
waters  in  a  desolating  heap.  Look  here. 
The  patient  owner  of  this  tree  becomes  all 
at  once  determined  on  its  destruction.  For 
three  years  he  goes  up  to  it,  searching 
among  its  leaves  for  fruit ;  he  comes  away 
disappointed,  but  yet  silent.  There  is  no 
blaming  of  the  tree,  no  complaining  of  it. 
The  people  in  the  vineyard,  who  have  wit- 
nessed  all  this,  may  have  ceased  to  notice 
it,  or  if  they  still  notice  it,  they  may  say, 
"  That  tree  is  safe.  Unfruitful  as  it  is, 
for  some  strange  reason  our  master  loves 
it,  and  so  well  docs  he  love  it,  that  he  will 
never  remove  it."  But  all  at  once  comes 
the  command,  "  Cut  it  down  ;  why  cum- 
bereth  it  the  ground  ?"  And  wliat  follows  ? 
Is  the  tree  at  once  levelled  ?  No  ;  for  no- 
tice, 

VI.  The  intercession  tnade  for  it.  The 
dresser  of  the  vineyard  answering  said  unto 
him,  "  Lord,  let  it  alone  this  year  also,  till 
I  shall  dig  about  it  and  dung  it;  and  if  it 
bear  fruit^  well  ;  and  if  not,  then  after  tiiat 
thou  shalt  cut  it  down." 

Here  we  must  observe  that  our  Lord's 
parables,  though  generally  very  simple,  are 
sometimes  very  lofty.  It  is  easy  to  see  that 
they  come  from  a  mind  familiar  with  heav- 
enly things,  and  not  easily  forgetting  them 
even  when  stooping  down  to  low  earthly 
things.  We  think,  as  we  read  them  hasti- 
ly, of  ourselves  only  and  of  what  is  going 
on  among  ourselves,  but  the  instant  we 
closely  examine  them,  they  lift  us  up  ;  we 
discover  that  the  thoughts  of  Ciu-ist  must 
have  been  in  heaven  as  he  delivered  them. 
Here  doubtless  a  heavenly  scene  is  laid 
open  to  us.  There  is  but  one  Mediator  who 
can  interpose  effectually  between  God  and 
man.  Ministers,  parents,  and  friends,  may 
say  concerning  this  or  that  sinner,  "  Lord, 
let  him  alone;"  but  Christ  is  not  thinking 
here  of  any  of  these.  He  has  himsolf  in 
his  thoughts;  he  is  anticipating  his  employ- 
ment at  his  Father's  right  hand  whither  he 
is  going.  He  is  the  vinedresser  who  pleads 
for" this  worthless  tree  to  save  it  from  de- 
struction. 

And  iiow  natural  and  touching  are  the 
terms  in  which  his  intercession  is  made  ! 
Could  you  follow  a  Christian  minister, 
brethren,  into  his  privacy,  and  hear  his 
secret  pleadings  with  God  for  the  people  he 
loves,  you  would  find  l)ut  little  disposition 
in  him  to  blame  those  among  them,  who 


42 


THE  BARREN  FIG-TREE. 


have  withstood  his  words.  With  feelings 
which  none  but  himself  can  understand,  he 
is  far  more  ready  to  blame  himself.  "How," 
he  says,  "  can  I  expect  to  see  the  fruits  of 
the  gospel  in  these  men  ?  I  have  not 
preaclicd  it  among  them  with  half  the 
earnestness  that  I  ought.  They  are  un- 
fruitful, but  it  is  because  I  have  been  sloth- 
ful. I  have  never  really  labored  for  their 
souls."  Now  look  to  the  parable.  We 
find  something  like  the  same  spirit  in  this 
great  Vinedresser.  Not  one  word  does  he 
utter  against  this  barren  tree.  Not  one 
word  does  he  say  of  all  the  labor  he  has 
bestowed  upon  it.  With  a  wonderful  pity 
and  condescension,  he  seems  to  trace  its 
long  unfruitfulness  to  his  own  neglect. 
"  Lord,  let  it  alone.  The  fault  may  be 
mine.  I  have  not  done  for  it  all  I  might. 
Henceforth  I  will  do  more.  I  will  dig 
about  it  and  dung  it.  It  shall  not  only  have 
all  the  means  of  fruitfulness  every  tree  in 
thy  vineyard  enjoys,  it  shall  have  more. 
It  shall  become  the  special  object  of  my 
labor  and  care." 

And  who  can  tell,  brethren,  what  plead- 
ings may  now  be  going  on  in  the  unseen 
heavens  for  some  of  us  ?  Who  can  tell 
what  new  and  untried  means  our  unwea- 
ried Lord  is  now  declaring  he  will  employ 
with  us  ?  "  Lord,  let  them  alone  this  year 
also.  Leave  this  and  that  sinner  in  my 
hands  one  year  more.  I  have  sent  him 
warnings,  but  I  will  send  him  now  plainer 
and  louder  warnings.  I  have  visited  him 
with  aflhctions,  I  will  visit  him  now  with 
sharper  and  more  cutting  sorrows.  The 
.spade  shall  go  deeper  ;  it  shall  disturb  the 
man's  very  roots.  His  conscience  too  I 
have  disquieted,  but  now  I  will  make  his 
conscience  a  daily  scourge  to  him.  He 
shall  not  come  into  my  house,  but  he  shall 
hear  something  there  to  disquiet  him  ;  he 
shall  not  lay  down  his  head  on  his  pillow, 
but  a  voice  within  him  shall  say,  '  Thou 
art  a  guilty,  miserable  man.'  I  have  told 
him  of  my  great  salvation.  I  have  offered 
it  to  him  times  out  of  number  without  mo- 
ney or  price  :  he  shall  hear  of  it  in  the 
coming  year  yet  more  often  ;  it  shall  be 
pressed  on  his  acceptance  with  greater 
earnestness  and  force.  Lord,  let  him  alone. 
It  may  be  that  he  will  at  last  bring  forth 
the  fruits  thou  hast  so  long  desired  in  him." 

And  then  comes  in  these  words  a  glan- 
cing al  the  glorious  consequences  that  would 
follow.     "  if  it  bear  fruit,  well,"  our  trans- 


lators say,  but  there  is  no  word  answering 
to  "  well"  in  the  original.  Our  Lord  does 
not  say  what  would  follow  the  fruitfulness 
of  this  tree.  He  breaks  ofl'  as  though  he 
could  not  say.  It  seems  as  though  all  the 
glory  and  delight  resulting  to  his  Father 
and  himself  from  a  sinner's  salvation  had 
rushed  into  his  mind  and  silenced  him. 
"  If  it  bear  fruit — O  the  happiness  for  that 
poor  sinner,  and  O  the  unutterable  joy  for 
thee  and  me  !" 

But  mark — it  is  only  a  year  that  the  In- 
tercessor asks  for  this  tree,  one  year,  a 
limited  season.  After  that,  he  says,  he  will 
interpose  no  longer ;  and  more — he  will 
acquiesce  in  the  sentence  of  its  destruction  ; 
"  Thou  shalt  cut  it  down." 

I  know  not,  brethren,  how  this  language 
may  strike  some  of  you,  but  there  seems  to 
me  something  very  fearful  in  it.  Who  is 
it  that  promises  here  to  acquiesce  after  a 
little  in  the  entire  destruction  of  every  un- 
fruitful hearer  of  God's  truth  among  us  ? 
It  is  none  other  than  he  who  has  shed  his 
heart's  blood  for  our  salvation,  and  who  has 
all  our  life  long  been  pleading  that  we  may 
be  spared.  It  is  painful  to  have  a  khid 
earthly  friend  give  us  up,  but  to  be  given 
up,  and  given  up  to  certain  destruction,  by 
the  blessed  Jesus,  the  kindest  of  all  friends, 
one  Avho  bears  with  and  loves  us  as  none 
but  himself  can  bear  and  love — think  what 
we  will  of  it,  there  is  something  appalling 
in  this.  It  is  like  a  father  who  has  cherish- 
ed fondly  a  son,  a  worthless  son,  while  all 
around  have  been  calling  out  for  justice  on 
him — it  is  like  that  father's  being  at  last 
forced  to  say,  "  I  can  hold  out  no  longer.  I 
can  do  no  more.     Let  justice  have  him." 

And  here  the  parable  ends.  The  fate 
of  this  tree,  you  perceive,  is  left  in  uncer- 
tainty ;  we  know  not  the  result  of  the  Vine- 
dresser's intercession  and  care.  And  who, 
as  he  looks  round  on  this  congregation,  can 
tell  how  it  will  be  at  the  last  with  many 
assembled  here  ?  Of  some  we  can  say 
with  almost  certainty,  "  It  will  be  well  with 
them.  Let  me  die  their  death,  and  let  my 
last  end  be  like  theirs."  They  arc  now 
bringing  forth  the  fruits  of  the  gospel,  and 
we  want  nothing  more  to  assure  ue  that 
the  gospel  will  save  their  souls.  There  is 
that  in  them,  which  tells  us  that  (^od  even 
now  delights  in  them,  as  a  man  delights  in 
the  fruitful  tree  he  himself  has  planted  ; 
that  he  will  watch  over  them,  and  keep 
them,  and  gather  fruit  from  them  wilii  joy 


CHRIST  THE  DESIRE  AND  GLORY  OF  HIS  CHURCH. 


13 


forever.  Let  such  see  in  this  parable  wliat 
they  owe  to  him.  Let  them  see  wl\at  they 
owe  to  him  also  who  has  interceded  for 
them,  and  digged  round  them,  and  made 
them  by  his  grace  and  Spirit  what  they 
are. 

As  for  you  whose  character  and  end  are 
doubtful,  you  may  see  here  why  they  are 
so.  Ask  some  of  your  Christian  neighbors, 
the  very  men  perhaps  who  are  now  sitting 
by  your  side,  wlietlier  they  would  have 
their  souls  in  your  soul's  stead  ;  they  would 
tell  you,  if  they  told  you  any  thing,  "  No, 
not  for  worlds."  And  if  you  ask  them  why 
not,  their  answer  would  be  simply  this. 
"  The  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  has  had  hith- 
erto no  visible,  no  decided  effect  on  you. 
We  cannot  see  that  it  has  done  any  thing 
whatever  within  your  hearts."  You  have 
heard  it,  brethren,  as  others  have  ;  you 
have  acknowledged  it  pei'haps  as  others  do, 
to  be  a  blessed  and  glorious  gospel,  but 
when  we  say  to  you,  wliat  lias  it  done  for 
you  ?  has  it  really  convinced  you  of  your 
sin  ?  has  it  broken  your  hearts  ?  has  it 
beaten  down  your  self- righteousness,  and 
that  self-confidence  and  self-love  within 
you,  which  nothing  else  could  ever  shake  ? 
has  it  fdled  you  with  self-loathing  ?  has  it 
caused  the  world  to  seem  poor  to  you,  and 
Christ  precious,  and  heaven  near  ?  has  it 
made  a  breach  between  you  and  all  sin, 
and  put  within  you  a  hungering  and  thirst- 
ing after  righteousness,  which  nothing  but 
rigb.teousness  can  satisfy  ? — when  we  ask 
you  such  questions  as  these,  and  you  say 
"  No"'  to  them,  or  wish  to  put  them  away 
and  give  us  no  answer  at  all,  then  we  must 
tell  you  as  you  look  forward  to  years  to 
come,  that  darkness  hangs  over  them  ;  we 
know  no  more  how  it  will  be  with  you  when 
this  year  ends,  than  we  know  whether  the 
day  which  ends  it,  will  be  a  cloudy  or  a 
brignt  one.  O  may  the  God  of  all  grace 
excite  in  you  this  year,  or  rather  this  day, 
close  and  prayerful  thought!  "  What  shall  I 
eat?  What"shall  I  drink?  Wherewithal  j 
shall  I  be  clothed  ?  Where  sliall  I  bestow  j 
my  I'ruits  and  my  goods  ?"  Beloved  breth- 1 
ren,  have  done  with  these  miserable  ques- 
tions. Put  them  aside.  Take  up  others. 
"  Where  am  I  ?  What  am  I  ?  Where 
and  what  shall  I  be  when  all  my  years  on 
earth  are  ended  ?  Will  it  be  well  with  me 
at  the  last,  or  would  it  have  been  good  for 
me  never  to  have  been  born  ?"  Tliese  are 
questions  worth  the  asking.     O  that  you 


felt  them  to  be  such !  O  that  from  this 
moment  you  may  never  know  one  hour's 
rest,  till  you  have  obtained  from  the  li'.ing 
God  something  like  a  peaceful  answer  to 
them ! 


SERMON  IX. 

THE  FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  THE  EPIPHANY. 

CHRIST  THE  DESIRE  AND  GLORY  OF  HIS 
CHURCH. 

Haggai  II.  6,  7. — "  Thus  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts. 
Yet  once,  it  is  a  little  while,  and  I  will  shake 
the  heavens,  and  the  earth,  and  the  sea,  and  the 
dry  land,  and  I  will  shake  all  nations;  and  the 
Desire  of  all  nations  shall  come,  and  I  will  fill 
this  house  with  glory,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts." 

AViiEN  the  Jews  returned  from  their  cap- 
tivity in  Babylon,  they  found  their  city  and 
temple  in  ruins.  Their  city  they  at  once 
set  about  rebuilding,  but  not  their  temple  ; 
or  if  they  began  to  rebuild  it,  the  work  soon 
stopped.  Their  own  houses  one  after  an- 
other rose  up,  but  there  still  lay  the  house 
of  the  Lord,  that  "  holy  and  beautiful  house 
where  their  fathers  worshipped,"  thrown 
down  and  desolate.  Like  all  selfish  men, 
they  had  an  excuse.  The  time,  they  said, 
was  not  come.  But  God  sends  tliis  prophet 
to  toll  them  that,  in  his  view  of  the  matter, 
the  time  was  come,  that  he  expected  them 
to  build  his  house  as  well  as  their  own,  and 
that  he  would  go  on  visiting  their  land,  just 
as  he  had  done,  with  famine  and  drought 
till  they  had  built  it.  At  the  same  time  he 
encourages  them  ;  and  here  in  the  text  is 
the  encouragement  he  gives  them.  And 
what  is  it  ?  It  is  another  prophecy  of  the 
Messiah.  "  Build  me  a  temple,"  he  says, 
"  and  the  Lord  whom  ye  seek,  shall  come 
to  that  temple."  "  The  Desire  of  all  na- 
tions shall  come,  and  I  will  fill  this  house 
with  glory,  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts." 

I.  Here  is  in  this  prediction  the  time 
token  our  Lord  was  to  come. 

"  It  is  a  little  while,"  says  God  ;  and 
when  did  he  say  this  ?  As  the  song  of  the 
angels  was  about  to  burst  forth  over  Beth- 
lehem ?  or  just  as  Gabriel  was  drawing 
near  to  receive  his  command  to  go  down  lo 
Mary  at  Nazareth  ?  No,  it  was  five  hun- 
dred years  before.     Why  then   does  the 


44 


CHRIST  THE  DESIRE  AND  GLORY  OF  HIS  CHURCH. 


Lord  call  this  long  period  "  a  little  while  ?" 
We  answer,  it  was  a  short  period  compared 
tcith  (he  time  the  church  had  already  been 
kept  u-aiting  for  the  Messiah.  More  than 
three  thousand  years  had  now  passed  since 
it  had  been  first  told  to  expect  him,  and  still 
he  was  not  come. 

It  was  short  too  m  Jehovah's  own  sight. 
Generally  in  his  word  he  adapts  himself  to 
our  notions  of  things,  speaking  to  our  minds 
rather  than  from  his  own  ;  but  sometimes  he 
appears  to  forget  us  and  our  littleness  ;  he 
speaks  out  of  the  depths  of  his  own  fathom- 
less mind,  and  then  what  we  deem  great 
tilings  become  small,  mountains  are  dust, 
nations  are  drops,  ages  are  moments.  Five 
hundred  years  are  ca]jed  "  a  little  while," 
and  five  thousand  would  be  called  the  same. 
And  this  puts  a  stamp  of  verity  and  divin- 
ity on  God's  word.  It  is  not  man's  word, 
it  cannot  be,  for  things  are  frequently  meas- 
ured in  it  by  a  standard  which  man  never 
uses. 

II.  Observe  next  in  the  prophecy  a  sol- 
emn circumstance  that  is  to  attend  the  Mes- 
siah's coming. 

"  I  will  shake  the  heavens,"  the  Lord 
says,  "  and  the  earth,  and  the  sea,  and  the 
dry  land,  and  I  will  shake  all  nations." 
Now  what  is  this  mighty  shaking  ?  Here 
again  we  must  think  of  the  divine  great- 
ness. He  who  spake  these  words,  is  the 
eternal  God.  He  has  all  times  and  all 
events  ever  present  before  him.  It  must 
be  expected  therefore  that  there  will  be 
frequent  allusions  in  what  he  says  to  scenes 
long  past.  Such  appears  to  be  the  case 
here.  He  introduced  the  Mosaic  dispensa- 
tion with  a  scene  of  awful  grandeur.  On 
a  quiet  day  clouds  and  darkness  suddenly 
thickened  on  the  summit  of  a  mountain. 
Unearthly  thunderings  rolled  around  it,  and 
flames  of  mysterious  fire  blazed.  Down  to 
its  very  roots  tlie  whole  mountain  shook 
with  seeming  terror.  The  wondering  peo- 
ple, we  are  told,  could  not  bear  the  sight — 
they  also,  and  Moses  with  them,  "  exceed- 
ingly feared  and  quaked."  Now  some- 
thing like  this,  the  Lord  says,  shall  attend 
the  coming  of  his  Son  and  the  bringing  in 
of  his  gospel — there  shall  be  a  shaking,  and 
a  shaking  which  shall  afTect,  not  a  moun- 
tain, but  a  world. 

This  language  has  hcon  interpreted  as 
pointing  out  those  political  convulsions  and 
changes  which  agitated  the  world  between 
the  uttering  of  this  prophecy  and  our  Lord's 


birth,  one  great  empire  giving  way  to  an- 
other,  and  tliat  in  its  turn  yielding  to  a  third, 
St.  Paul  however  applies  it,  in  his  epistle 
to  the  Hebrews,  to  the  uprooting  and  de- 
struction of  the  whole  Mosaic  dispensation. 
And  he  lays  a  stress  on  the  word  "  once" 
in  the  text.  It  shows,  he  says,  that  the 
threatened  destruction  of  this  dispensation 
shall  be  complete  and  final.  All  the  Jew- 
ish institutions  shall  be  swept  away,  and 
swept  away  once  forever,  to  the  end  that 
a  new  and  permanent  order  of  things  in  the 
church  may  be  established.  And  how  ex- 
actly has  the  prophecy  in  this  application 
of  it  been  fulfilled  !  The  temple,  this-most 
glorious  temple  that  Christ  came  to  and 
honored,  in  one  terrible  hour  shook  and 
fell,  and  neither  it  nor  its  sacrifices  or  or- 
dinances have  ever  been  revived. 

But  we  may  perhaps  put  another  inter- 
pretation on  this  prediction.  There  may 
be  a  further  reference  in  it  to  those  moral 
and  spiritual  effects  which  have  ever  at- 
tended and  followed  the  gospel  in  its  prog- 
ress through  the  world.  Wherever  it  has 
come,  it  has  come  with  a  shaking.  It  has 
startled  the  world,  surprised  it  and  chang- 
ed  it.  So  was  it  in  the  apostles'  days. 
The  kingdoms  of  the  earth  wondered  at 
them  ;  their  idols  trembled  and  fell  before 
them  ;  nearly  all  the  Roman  empire  event- 
ually cast  ofl'its  heathenism  and  embraced 
the  cross.  It  was  the  same  at  the  reforma- 
tion from  popery.  The  gospel  had  been 
buried,  buried  alive,  as  it  were,  beneath 
the  rubbish  of  papal  superstitions  ;  it  pleas- 
ed God  by  means  of  a  few  faithful  men  to 
bring  it  out  of  its  grave,  and  civilized  Eu- 
rope was  throughout  agitated.  And  it  is 
the  same  now  in  every  land  and  in  every 
place  wherever  "  the  glorious  gospel  of  the 
blessed  God"  is  for  the  first  time  faithfully 
and  zealously  published.  Men  do  not  and 
cannot  all  listen  to  it  as  though  they  were 
stones.  A  sensation  of  some  kind  is  almost 
sure  to  be  produced  by  it,  and,  in  some 
cases,  a  most  holy  and  happy  one. 

And  let  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  once 
really  find  its  way  into  a  sinner's  heart,  O 
what  a  convulsion,  what  a  complete  up- 
rooting and  change,  does  it  often  cfTec* 
there  !  All  the  long-cherished  inditU'rence 
of  that  heart  towards  God,  and  eternity,  and 
its  own  best  interests,  passes  away.  Pridc; 
and  prejudice,  and  hatred  of  God's  truth, 
are  shaken  and  thrown  down.  The  heart 
becomes  like  a  city  which  has  just  felt  the 


CHRIST  THE  DESniE  AND  GLORY  OF  HIS  CHURCH. 


45 


shock  of  an  earthquake,  or  rather  it  is  like 
Sinai  in  the  wiUlerness,  when  God  stood  on 
it  in  his  majesty  and  thundered  from  it  his 
law.  I  am  not  speaking,  brethren,  of  any 
thing  enthusiastic  or  in  appearance  violent. 
I  am  speaking  of  tliat  deep,  inward,  .spirit- 
ual ciiaiige  which  every  man  e.xperiences 
who  rigiitly  receives  the  gospel  of  God's 
dear  Son  ;  a  change  which  makes  him,  in 
the  lanyuage  of  scripture,  a  new  man,  "  a 
new  creature,"  new  in  his  principles,  new 
in  his  feelings,  new  in  his  affections,  new 
in  his  temper  and  habits,  new  in  almost  ev- 
ery thing.  Some  of  you  well  understand 
what  this  is.  Would  that  you  all  did  ! 
You  will  [ie>-er  understand  the  blessedness 
of  Christ's  gospel  till  you  do.  Strange  as 
it  may  seem,  it  is  an  unspeakable  mercy 
to  have  a  shock  like  this  given  to  the  soul  ; 
to  have  the  high  imaginations  and  proud 
hopes  of  the  soul  laid  low.  It  is  a  blessed 
thing  to  have  the  gospel  cutting  and  pier- 
cing the  heart  ;  this  is  a  sure  sign  there  is 
One  coming  in  love  and  mercy  to  heal  the 
heart.  These  flashes  of  lightning,  these 
terrors  and  perplexities,  will  turn  in  the 
end,  says  an  old  bishop  of  our  church,  to 
"  beams  of  comfort  and  gleams  of  glory." 
III.  We  may  go  on  now  to  another  part 
of  the  text — a  description  which  it  gives  us 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

It  calls  him,  you  observe,  "  the  Desire  of 
all  nations."  This  title  at  first  may  sur- 
prise us.  When  he  came,  a  great  part  of 
the  world  had  never  heard  of  him  ;  and 
those  to  whom  he  had  been  long  promised 
and  to  whom  he  came,  despised  and  reject- 
ed him  ;  '•  they  saw  no  beauty  in  him  that 
they  should  desire  him."  And  most  of  the 
nations  of  the  earth  reject  him  still.  But 
yet  this  name  is  justly  applied  to  our 
Lord. 

It  may  intimate  that  in  the  sight  of  God 
he  IS  desirable  for  all  naliom.  All  need 
him.  All  would  desire  him  if  they  knew 
his  excellence,  the  mighty  power  which  he 
possesses  of  blessing  and  saving.  It  is  a 
power  commensurate  with  the  wants  and 
miseries  of  the  whole  guilty  world. 

Or  this  title  may  imply  that  some  of  all 
nations  have  desired  him.  The  expectation 
cf  him  was  not  confined  to  the  Jewish  peo- 
ple. There  had  been  those  elsewhere,  who 
had  looked  forward  with  earnest  desire  to 
his  coming,  to  the  coming,  at  least,  of  some 
great  deliverer.  And  when  he  appeared, 
few  as  they  were  who  welcomed  him,  they 


were  not  a.11  of  one  place  or  nation.  He 
was  born  in  Judaea,  but  wise  men  come 
from  the  east  and  do  him  homage,  a  womart 
of  accursed  Canaan  falls  down  and  wor- 
ships him,  and  a  Roman  soldier  owns  liis 
greatness,  deeming  the  doors  of  his  habita- 
tion unworthy  to  receive  him.  To  say 
nothing  of  present  times,  of  men  scattered 
over  all  the  earth  adoring  and  blessing  him, 
look  back  to  little  more  tiian  half  a  century 
after  his  crucifixion.  Even  then  there  was 
a  great  multitude  seen  in  heaven  "  of  all 
nations,  and  kindreds,  and  people,  and 
tongues ;"  and  they  all  sang  one  and  the 
same  song,  one  loud  song  of  joy  and  de- 
light in  this  universal  Saviour. 

But  we  must  look  forward  for  a  full  ex- 
planation  of  this  title.  All  nations  will  de- 
sire this  Saviour. 

I  have  just  said  that  all  times  and  all 
events  lie  ever  open  before  the  Lord.  And 
this  is  true  of  the  future  as  well  as  of  the 
past.  And  the  Lord  often  speaks  in  his 
word  with  a  reference  to  the  future  as  well 
as  the  past.  "We  know  not  wiiat  was  spe- 
cially in  his  mind  when  he  uttered  these 
words,  but  there  might  be  in  it  a  whole 
converted  and  happy  world.  That  the 
whole  world  is  eventually  to  be  converted, 
scripture  assures  us  ;  and  it  assures  us  also 
that  when  converted,  Christ  will  be  every- 
where desired,  adored,  and  rejoiced  in, 
throughout  it.  "  Unto  him,"  we  are  told, 
"  shall  the  gathering  of  the  people  be." 
"  In  him  shall  all  the  families  of  the  earth 
be  blessed."  "He  shall  have  dominion 
from  sea  to  sea,  and  from  the  river  unto  the 
ends  of  the  earth."  "  All  nations  shall  call 
him  blessed."  Now  imagine  these  pro- 
phecies fulfilled,  let  this  glorious  scene  be 
realized,  bring  before  your  minds  a  holy 
and  rejoicing  earth,  and  then  cast  your 
eyes  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  its  holy  and 
rejoicing  King — what  would  you  call  him  ? 
Just  what  the  great  God,  the  Lord  of  hosts, 
calls  him  here,  "  the  Desire  of  all  nations," 
the  joy  of  the  sons  of  men,  the  one  great 
blessing,  hope,  and  comfort,  of  a  regenerated 
world. 

It  is  well,  brethren,  when  the  heart  re- 
sponds at  once  to  these  glorious  titles 
of  the  Saviour.  How  poor  sometimes  do 
our  labored  explanations  of  them  seem  ! 
"  Tell  us  not,"  you  are  ready  to  .say,  "  why 
our  blessed  Lord  is  called  the  Desire  of  the 
nations:  you  might  as  well  tell  us  why  the 
sun  is  called  the  world's  light.     We  feel 


46 


CHRIST  THE   DESIRE    VND  GLORY  OF  HIS  CHURCH 


that  he  IS  all  our  salvation  and  all  our  de-  !  fulfilled  ?  "  The  Lord  entered  it,"  you 
sire.  O  that  we  lonjred  for  him  more!  O  i  will  say,  "  when  it  was  dedicated, 'with  a 
that  we  rejoiced  in  him  more  !  O  tha;  the  |  brighter  glory  than  before.  He  lit  up 
tune  w'cre  come  when  he  should  be  the  |  again  the  extinguished  fire  on  the  altar,  and 
TV-    r^^'^^y  ^'^^''"5^  °^  °^^  he^^''s  J"  I  shone  forth  more  splendidly  than  ever  above 

IV.    The  last  tliinc  we  have  to  notice  in  :  the   mercv-seat."      But   no  :  the 


the  te.xt,   is  a  g/oriotis   consequence  of  the 
promised  Redeemer's  advent. 

"The  Desire  of  all  nations  shall  come, 
and  I  will  fill  this  house  with  glory,  saith 
the  Lord  of  hosts."  In  the  ninth  verse  this 
promise  is  repeated,  and  in  yet  stronger 
terms  ;  "  The  glory  of  this  latter  house 
shall  be  greater  than  of  the  former,  saith 
the  Lord  of  hosts." 

The  former  house  here  referred  to  was 
the  temple  of  Solomon.  This,  in  external 
splendor,  must  have  exceeded  every  build- 
ing of  which  there  is  any  record.  And  be- 
sides this,  it  had  within  it  various  things 
which  gave  it  a  higher  and  indeed  an  un- 
earthly glory.  There  was  the  holy  fire 
on  one  of  the  altars,  kindled  at  first  from 
heaven  and  never  extinguished.  There 
was  the  sacred  ark  with  the  tables  of  the 
law  in  it,  written  by  the  hand  of  God. 
More  glorious  stih,  there  was  the  bright 
cloud  shining  over  the  mercy-seat,  a  sym- 
bol ofthe  ever  present  Jehovah.  A  thought- 
ful Jew,  as  he  trod  these  courts,  must  have 
often  felt,  nothing  below  heaven  can  be 
higher  than  this.  Besides,  at  the  dedica- 
tion of  this  temple,  the  Lord  had  come 
down  visibly,  into  it,  and  with  a  burst  of 
glory  filled  it  with  his  presence.  Well, 
therefore,  might  the  people,  when  this  won- 
derful building  was  overthrown,  have  look- 
ed on  its  ruins  with  a  mournful  despair, 
and  felt  the  glory  was  departed.  Even 
when  with  sorrowful  hearts  they  had  be- 
gun to  raise  it  up  again,  how  often  must 
they  have  been  tempted  to  desist,  from  a 
remembrance  of  its  former  glory,  and  a 
consciousness  of  their  utter  inability  to  equal 
it  again  !  But  now  comes  God  and  bids 
them  here,  by  this  prophet,  cast  all  these 
mournful  feelings  away.  "  Be  strong,  O 
Zerubbabel,"  he  says,  "  and  be  strong,  O 
Joshua,  and  be  strong,  all  ye  people  of'the 
land,  and  work."  "Build  me  a  house; 
no  matter  how  mean  it  is,  I  will  glorify 
it."  "  The  Desire  of  all  nations  shall 
come,  and  I  will  fill  it  with  glory." 
"  The  glory  of  this  latter  house  shall"  be 
greater  than  of  the  former,  saith  the  Lord 
of  hosts." 


no ;  tlie   building 
hundred  years  with 


mercy-seat, 
remained  for  severa 

scarcely  one  miraculous  circumstance  of 
glory.  The  promise  had  no  fulfilment;  it 
seemed  forgotten.  But  at  last  an  infant 
enters  that  temple,  brought  thither  from  a 
stable  and  a  manger,  and  borne  in  a  peas- 
ant's arms.  And  look  again.  Thirty 
years  afterwards  there  comes  into  it  a  man 
with  marks  of  deep  and  secret  sorrow  writ- 
ten on  his  brow.  Men  shun  him  and  scoff 
at  him  as  he  walks  along  it ;  and  when  he 
opens  his  lips  to  speak,  they  cavil  at  and 
deride  him.  And  yet  in  that  lowly  infant, 
in  that  man  of  sorrows  and  of  shame,  this 
prophecy  was  fulfilled.  The  first  temple 
was  splendid  in  its  gold  and  silver,  but  that 
was  a  petty  splendor;  its  main  glory  lay 
in  the  traces  it  bore,  its  faint  but  real  indi- 
cations, of  a  present  God.  But  here  in 
this  second  temple  is  that  God  himself 
manifest  in  our  mortal  flosh  ;  no  shadowy, 
indistinct  resemblance  of  him,  but,  incar- 
nate before  us,  One  whom  he  himself  calls 
by  his  Spirit  "  the  brightness  of  his  glory 
and  the  very  image  of  his  person."  "The 
long  waited  for  "Consolation  of  Israel," 
"the  Desire  of  all  nations,"  is  here,  and 
his  mere  presence  here  throws  a  splendor 
around  this  building  the  earth  never  saw 
before.  One  thought  of  heaven  makes 
this  plain.  What  gives  that  lofty  worid 
its  chief  glory  ?  Its  burning  thrones,  and 
its  rivers  of  crystal,  and  its  white-robed 
worshippers,  and  its  angels  of  light  ?  No, 
"  Behold,  the  tabernacle  of  God  is  there 
with  men."  Tlie  infinite  Jehovah  reveals 
himself  there  in  his  exalted  Son.  "The 
glory  of  God,"  says  the  Spirit,  taking  up 
the  idea  and  almost  the  language  of  this 
text,  "  the  glory  of  God  dotli  lighten  it,  and 
the  lamb  is  the  light  tliereof " 

We  may  now  make  a  two-fold  applica. 
tion  of  this  scripture. 

It  shows  us,  first,  wherein  consists  the  chief 
glory  of  any  church.  It  consists  in  the  pre- 
sence and  manifestation  within  it  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  In  his  bodily  presence 
indeed   he  is  removed   far  away  from  us. 


The  heaven  of  heavens  has  received  him, 
and  there  high  above  all  things  he   lives 
And  how  was  this  magnificent  promise  I  and  reigns.     But  there  is  a  spiritual  mani- 


CHRIST  STANDING  AT  THE  WOOR. 


47 


festation  still  made  of  him  in  our  world 
jhrough  his  gospel  ;  and  it  is  this,  which 
gives  our  churches  their  real  glory.  It 
matters  not  whether  we  speak  of  national 
churches,  or  of  smaller  communities  of 
Christians,  or  of  the  mere  buildings  in 
which  we  worship,  this  is  true  of  them  all. 
We  love  our  own  national  church.  God 
grant  we  may  ever  love  it !  Never  was 
church  more  worthy  of  a  nation's  love. 
But  what  clothes  the  church  of  England 
with  so  much  excellency  and  beauty  ?  The 
honor  the  state  puts  on  it  ?  its  lordly  and 
often  venerated  prelates?  its  endowments  ? 
its  antiquity  ?  the  homage  it  has  received 
from  successive  generations?  No,  brethren. 
We  despise  not  these  things,  but  if  these 
were  all  the  excellencies  the  church  of 
England  had  to  boast  of,  let  it  fall  to-mor- 
row, we  would  hardly  stretch  forth  a  hand 
to  save  it,  or  shed  a  tear  for  it  when  it  was 
gone.  It  is  the  exhibition  it  makes  in  all 
its  services  of  a  glorious  Saviour,  it  is  the 
clear  and  strong  light  in  which  it  holds  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  forth  to  guilty  man  as 
guilty  man's  only  hope — this  is  our  church's 
glory  ;  and  God  grant  that  this  glory  may 
shine  in  it  brighter  and  brighter  even  to  the 
world's  end!  Reforms  we  may  want  in  it, 
but,  O  brethren,  let  them  be  reforms  which 
exalt  nothing  in  our  church  above  Christ, 
and  put  no  veil  on  Christ's  glory  and  great- 
ness. Innovations  seem  to  be  threatening 
us.  The  worst  perhaps  that  could  threaten 
us,  are  those  which  would  substitute  rites 
and  ordinances  for  a  Saviour's  blood,  pen- 
ances and  superstitious  observances  for  his 
grace,  a  form  of  godliness  for  a  heart-warm 
love  for  him,  and  an  outward  devotion  for 
practical  obedience  to  his  will.  We  may 
cover  our  land  with  churches  ;  but  all  expe- 
rience says,  they  will  do  the  land  no  good 
if  the  glorious  gospel  of  Christ  is  not  pro- 
claimed within  tiicm :  we  may  half  fill 
these  churches  with  ministers  ;  experience 
tells  us  again,  those  ministers  will  be 
scourges  rather  than  blessings  among  us, 
unless  they  are  men  who  count  "all  things 
but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  tiie  knowledge 
of  .1'  sns  Christ." 

This  scripture  tells  us  also  rohcrein  con- 
sists the  chief  happiness  of  every  really  Chris- 
tian heart. 

When  this  promise  was  made  to  the  .lews, 
they  were  in  a  very  low  and  distressed 
condition.  True,  they  had  been  delivered 
from  a  long  and   wretched  captivity,  but 


what  were  they  ?  A  mere  remnant  of  a 
nation.  And  where  were  tiicy?  Among 
the  ruins  of  their  overthrown  citv,  weak, 
poor,  and  almost  friendless,  with  powerful 
enemies  all  around  deriding  and  assailing 
them,  and  the  judgments  of  God,  drought 
and  famine,  afflicting  them.  This  prophet 
comes  to  them  with  a  command  and  with 
comfort  from  their  God.  Tiie  command  is 
to  "  go  up  to  the  mountain,  and  bring  wood, 
and  build  the  Lord''s  house  ;"  and  their  com- 
fort is — what  ?  A  most  strange  one — an 
assurance  that  the  Messiah  is  ere  long  to 
be  born  and  appear  among  them.  Here  is 
a  harassed,  distressed,  half-famished  peo- 
ple comforted,  not  with  a  promise  of  deliv- 
erance and  plenty,  but  "  I  will  shake  all 
nations,"  says  God,  "and  the  Desire  of  all 
nations  shall  come."  This  is  to  be  their 
consolation  in  their  affliction — a  coming 
Saviour. 

Now  what  does  God  say  to  us  here  ?  That 
he  has  no  higher  comfort  for  a  sorrowful 
soul,  than  to  tell  it  of  .lesus  Christ;  that 
every  sorrowful  soul,  in  its  most  pressing 
wants  and  deepest  distresses,  may  think  of 
Jesus  Ciirist  and  be  comforted.  All  things 
without  him  are  as  nothing,  brethren.  Some 
of  you  have  often  felt  and  acknowledged 
them  to  be  nothing.  God  would  teach  you 
to-day  by  this  scripture,  that  Christ,  almost 
without  any  thing  else,  is  enough  ;  yes,  and 
in  the  midst  of  sorrow  and  desolation  may 
be  felt  to  be  enough.  This  is  not  enthu- 
siasm,  it  is  experience,  it  is  fact.  O  that 
as  you  think  of  a  Saviour  promised,  and  a 
Saviour  born,  and  a  Saviour  coming  again 
— O  that  you  could  say,  "  That  Saviour  is 
mine,  and,  having  him,  I  am  content.  He 
fills  the  heavens  and  he  fills  his  church 
with  glory  ;  he  will  fill  me  with  all  things 
I  really  need,  with  more  than  I  can  ask  or 
think !" 


SERMON  X. 


THE    SECOND    SUNDAY  AFTER    THE  EPIPHANY. 

CHRIST  STANDING  AT  TIIE  DOOR. 

Revelation  hi.  20. — "Behold,  I  i land  at  the  door 
and  knock.  If  any  vian  hear  my  voice  and  open 
the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup 
with  him,  and  he  with  me." 

This  is  a  wonderful  text.     Well  may  it 
begin  with  that  word  of  admiration,  "  Be 


48 


CHRIST  STANDING  AT  THE  DOOR. 


hold."  But  though  wonderful,  it  is  very 
simple.  Picture  to  yourselves  a  house 
with  its  inhabitant  at  home,  but  its  door 
shut.  That  liouse  represents  man's  heart, 
the  dwelling  place  of  his  thoughts,  desires, 
and  feelings.  And  tlien  imagine  that  you 
see  a  stranger  coming  up  to  tliis  house,  and 
standing  outside  its  door,  and  knocking  at 
it.  Something  answering  to  this  is  going 
on  in  our  case.  There  is  one  come  up  to 
us,  there  is  a  stranger  at  our  door. 

I.  The  first  question  we  must  ask  is, 
Who  is  he  ? 

It  is  clear  that  he  is  some  one  of  import- 
ance. "  Behold,"  he  says,  "  I  stand  at  the 
door;  I  who  could  never  have  been  expect- 
ed to  stand  there."  He  speaks,  you  ob- 
serve, as  though  his  coming  to  us  would 
surprise  us;  just  as  we  might  suppose  a 
monarch  to  speak  at  a  beggar's  door.  And 
there  is  a  reason  for  this.  It  is  the  glorious 
Redeemer  who  is  here,  the  Monarch  of 
earth  and  heaven.  And  his  dignity  is  in 
his  thoughts  at  this  time,  for  in  the  next 
verse  he  reminds  us  of  it.  He  talks  of  his 
throne,  and  of  his  sitting  on  that  throne  to- 
gether with  God  his  Father. 

"  But  how,"  you  may  ask,  "  can  he  be 
in  heaven  and  on  earth,  on  his  throne  above 
and  at  our  door,  at  the  same  time  ?"  I  an- 
swer, in  his  bodily  presence  he  cannot.  In 
this  sense,  he  i^  in  heaven,  and  in  heaven 
only  ;  and  there,  we  are  told,  he  must  re- 
main "  till  the  restitution  of  all  things." 
But  he  is  the  infinite  God  as  well  as  the 
Son  of  man  ;  and  being  such,  there  is  no 
limiting  or  confining  of  him.  He  can  go 
anywhere  ;  or  rather  he  needs  not  go  any- 
where, for  he  is  everywhere,  and  that 
every  moment.  "  You  see  me  not,"  he 
says  to  us  now  in  this  text,  "  but,  behold, 
I  am  among  you.  I  am  as  really  among 
you  as  the  minister  who  is  speaking  to  you. 
I  am  as  near  to  every  one  of  you,  as  your 
child  or  your  friend  who  is  seated  by  your 
side  ;  yea,  I  am  nearer :  I  am  within  you, 
at  the  very  door  of  your  hearts.  Behold, 
I,  the  everlasting  Saviour;  I,  the  Alpha 
and  Omega,  tiio  first  and  the  last;  I,  the 
Creator  of  all  things,  who  with  a  word 
called  your  eartli  into  being,  and  planted 
the  sun  in  the  heavens,  and  bid  the  stars 
to  roll ;  I  who  uphold  all  things  by  the 
word  of  my  power ;  I,  the  great  King  of 
iings  and  Lord  of  lords,  at  whose  feet  all 
heaven  bows  down,  and  at  whose  presence 
all  hell  trembles  ;  beliold,  I  am  at  the  door." 


See  then  how  this  text  sets  forth  at  the 
very  outset  of  it,  the  divine  mercy.  We 
think  it  a  great  thing  that  God  should  sit  on 
a  throne  waiting  for  sinners  to  come  to 
him,  but  here  he  describes  himself  as  com- 
ing to  sinners.  He  is  not  now  the  prodi- 
gal's father  running  to  meet  his  returnino 
son ;  he  is  that  father  going  to  that  son 
before  he  thinks  of  returning;  standing 
by  his  side  in  the  far  country  among  the 
swine  and  the  husks.  "  You  will  not  come 
to  me,"  he  says  to  us;  "behold  then,  I 
come  to  you.  Even  now  I  stand  at  your 
door." 

II.  Our  next  question  must  be.  What  is 
the  Lord  Jesus  doing  at  our  door  ? 

In  the  foregoing  chapter  he  says,  "  I  am 
he  which  searcheth  the  reins  and  hearts  ;" 
and  had  he  not  told  us  why  he  is  come  to 
us,  we  might  have  supposed  that  he  wishes 
to  inspect  our  hearts  more  closely  ;  to  look 
into  them  for  some  secret  lust  yet  undis- 
covered, or  to  search  some  dark  corner  not 
yet  explored.  But  he  says,  "  No  ;  I  am 
not  come  to  you  now  for  any  such  purpose. 
I  come  not  as  a  judge,  but  rather  as  a  peti- 
tioner. I  want  to  be  received  within  you. 
Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock.  I 
am  knocking  for  admittance."  And  thi;3 
implies  something  on  our  part,  and  some- 
thing also  on  his. 

On  our  part,  it  implies  this  mournful 
fact,  that  our  hearts  are  all  naturally  shit 
against  Christ,  yea,  fastened,  bolted  and 
barred,  against  him.  The  world,  brethren, 
has  never  to  knock  there.  Sin  has  no  need 
to  stand  there  and  say,  "  Let  me  in."  The 
door  is  open  to  them  at  all  times.  But  when 
the  blessed  Jesus  draws  near,  O  how  closely 
does  the  heart  shut  itself  up  against  him  ! 
Our  language  perhaps  is.  It  is  kind  in  you 
to  come,  and  mercif^ul,  and  gracious  ;  we 
thank  you  for  it ;  but  go  away  ;  there  is  no 
room  here  for  you.  "  Come  in,  ye  vani- 
ties," says  the  soul,  "  that  have  so  often  de- 
ceived and  mocked  me  ;  come  in,  ye  cares 
and  anxieties  that  have  so  many  times  dis- 
tressed me  and  weighed  me  down  ;  come 
in,  ye  idols  of  my  heart,  that  I  have  again 
and  again  resolved  should  never  be  admit- 
ted more  ;  come  in  and  welcome,  any  tiling 
that  is  base  and  earthly ;  I  will  cherish 
you  ;  but  my  holy  Lord  I  must  shut  out.  I 
know  he  ought  to  be  let  in,  but  this  ci»wded 
heart  of  mine  can  find  no  place  for  him.  It 
will  not,  it  cannot,  receive  him." 

On  G{*rist's  part,  this  expression  implies 


CHRIST  STANDING  AT  THE  DOOR. 


40 


a  tpillhigness  to  enter  our  hearts  ;  and  mere 
than  a  willinirncss,  an  earnest  desire  to  en- 
ter them.  Me  not  only  stands  waiting  at 
the  door,  ready  to  come  in  ;  but  he  calls 
there  and  knocks  there,  unwilling  to  be 
kept  out. 

V>y  "  the  door"  we  are  to  understand  the 
various  inlets  of  the  soul  ;  those  [)arts  and 
faculties  of  it,  which,  as  it  were,  admit 
things  into  it.  And  by  knocking  at  these  is 
meant  appealing  to  them,  trying  them,  en- 
deavoring to  get  into  the  heart  by  means  of 
them.  There  is  our  understanding,  for  in- 
stance, or  judgment — Christ  knocks  at  that 
by  showing  us  that  it  is  reasonable  we 
should  admit  him,  that  it  is  our  duty  and 
interest  to  do  so.  And  then  there  are  our 
afTections — he  appeals  to  them.  "  I  have 
loved  you,"  he  says,  "and  given  myself 
for  you.  I  have  been  wounded  and  bruised, 
I  have  bled  and  died,  for  you.  Do  not, 
after  this,  shut  me  out.  You  would  be 
ashamed  to  shut  out  the  father  who  cared 
for  you,  and  the  mother  who  nourished  you  ; 
but  I  have  done  more  for  you  than  father, 
and  mother,  and  all  the  world  besides." 
Pie  tries  our  hopes.  "  I  will  bring  in  with 
me,"  he  says,  "  blessings  innumerable." 
And,  at  other  times,  our  fears.  "  There  is 
danger,"  he  says,  "  in  rejecting  me.  It 
will  be  your  condemnation  and  ruin  to  send 
me  away." 

The  means  whereby  he  does  all  this,  are 
various.  His  word  is  one  of  them — the 
chapters  you  read,  and  the  sermons  that 
are  preached  to  you.  And  his  mercies  are 
another — the  mercies  of  his  providence. 
And  afflictions  also.  It  is  sad  that  the 
Lord  Jesus  should  be  constrained  to  knock 
at  our  hearts  by  these;  it  is  sad  that  the 
scourge  should  be  needed  to  force  open  our 
hearts  to  one  like  him  ;  yet  so  it  is.  He 
seldom  gets  far  into  our  hearts  till  he  has 
torn  and  smitten  them  ;  he  seldom  gets  into 
them  at  all,  till  sorrow  has  gone  in  first. 
"You  will  not  let  me  in,"  he  says  ;  "and 
why  ?  You  have  not  room  for  me ;  your 
heart  is  full  of  idols.  Well  then  I  will 
send  death  to  take  away  those  idols,  or  I 
will  send  poverty  or  something  else  to  drive 
them  out.  I  will  strip  you  of  the  things 
you  love  ;  and  then  when  your  soul  is  emp- 
ty, and  aching,  and  desolate,  when  you  arc 
looking  around  everywhere  for  acomf)rter 
and  can  find  none,  I  will  come  again  and 
say.  Now  will  you  admit  me  ?  There  is 
room  now ;  now  let  me  in." 


Conscience  also  is  another  of  Christ's  in. 
struments.  There  are  times,  brethren, 
when  our  own  minds  seem  to  acquire  a 
wonderful  power  over  us.  It  is  in  the  si- 
lence of  night  perhaps,  or  in  the  loneliness 
of  solitude.  We  would  think  of  other  things, 
but  something  rises  within  us  and  con- 
strains us  to  think  of  eternity  and  our  God. 
It  tells  us  that  all  is  not  as  it  should  be 
with  us,  and  will  not  end  as  we  would  have 
it.  The  world,  this  poor  empty  world,  ap- 
pears  for  an  hour  in  its  true  character.  It 
is  felt  to  be  a  thing  of  naught,  and  our  life 
in  it  a  dream,  and  we  ourselves  fools  and 
madmen  for  making  so  much  of  it.  And 
our  souls  too  are  thought  of,  our  precious 
but  well  nigh  forgotten  souls.  And  O  how 
do  they  seem  to  reproach  us  for  our  cruel 
neglect  of  them  !  "  This  will  never  do," 
conscience  says.  "  If  you  go  on  as  you 
have  done,  you  will  perish,  and  perish  ever- 
lastingly,  and  perish  soon.  Your  life  is 
passing  rapidly  away.  There  is  the  grave 
and  an  eternal  world  at  hand.  Where  will 
you  soon  be  ?"  When  therefore  conscience 
speaks  thus  to  us,  it  is  Christ  that  bids  it 
speak  thus.  He  speaks  to  us  by  it.  He  is 
taking  hold  of  it,  and  knocking  by  it  at  our 
hearts. 

And  observe  how  patiently  he  does  all 
this.  It  is  not  one  knock  that  satisfies  him, 
or  two  knocks.  "  Behold,  I  stand  and 
knock."  The  original  expression  is  yet 
stronger.  It  seems  to  convey  the  idea  of 
continuance.  "  Behold,  I  have  been  stand- 
ing and  knocking  at  this  door  for  a  long 
time,  and  am  standing  there  yet.  I  have 
been  here  for  hours ;  yea,  for  days,  and 
nightS;  and  months,  and  years." 

The  Lord  Jesus  is  not  like  us.  We 
may  be  kind,  but  we  are  not  patient  in  our 
kindness,  not  long-suiliring.  We  seek  to 
do  others  good,  but  after  a  little,  when  they 
continue  obstinate  and  perverse,  we  give 
them  up.  There  is  no  helping  them,  we 
say,  they  must  take  their  own  course  :  and 
we  can  say  this  even  of  a  brother  or  a  child. 
But  not  so  Christ.  He  acts  towards  sin- 
ners as  though  he  were  most  unwilling  to 
leave  them,  as  though  he  could  do  or  bear 
any  thing  rather  than  abandon  them  ; 
nay,  he  speaks  as  though  he  could  not 
abandon  them.  "How  shall  I  give  thee 
up,  Ephraim  ?  how  shall  I  deliver  thee,  or 
surrender  thee  up,  Israel  ?"  "  I  cannot  do 
it,"  he  seems  to  say.  Every  feeling  of  his 
soul  is  agitated  and  pained  at  the  thought. 


50 


CHRIST  STANDING  AT  THE  DOOR. 


"  IMine  heart,"  he  cries,  "  is  turned  within 
me  ;  my  repentings  are  kindled  together." 
And  in  the  same  spirit  he  speaks  in  tiiis  text. 
"  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock. 
Vou  may  think  that  I  am  only  just  come, 
hut  recollect — I  have  been  here  all  your 
life  long.  I  came  to  you  in  your  very 
childhood.  I  said  to  you  then,  '  My  son, 
give  me  thine  heart.  I  love  them  that  love 
me.  They  that  seek  me  early,  shall  find 
me.'  But  you  turned  me  away.  You 
said  it  was  too  soon  then  to  admit  me  ; 
childhood  was  an  age  of  folly,  and  folly 
must  have  its  day.  I  came  again  to  you  in 
your  youth.  I  knocked  then  yet  louder  for 
admittance,  and  you  heard  me ;  but  you 
gave  me  no  answer,  or  the  same  answer 
again — I  had  come  too  soon  :  youth  was  a 
day  for  pleasure,  and  jjleasure  also  must 
have  its  day.  It  had  it.  Your  youth  is 
now  gone,  and  business  and  occupations 
have  succeeded  to  pleasures  ;  yet  here  I 
still  am.  I  still  stand  at  your  door  and 
knock.  I  have  knocked  at  it  often  before, 
and  now  knock  again.  I  do  it  this  day, 
this  hour,  this  very  moment,  hy  the  sermon 
you  are  now  hearing,  by  the  feelings  of 
sorrow,  or  shame,  or  seriousness,  my  Spirit 
is  now  exciting  in  your  minds.  I  heed  not 
yoUi  former  neglect  of  me  ;  I  heed  not  the 
many  refusals  and  even  the  insults  you 
have  shown  me.  Repulsed  and  despised, 
here  I  still  am,  persisting  in  my  gracious 
design  towards  you  ;  still  asking  for  admit- 
tance ;  still  calling,  entreating,  reasoning, 
pleading,  promising,  reproving,  warning, 
threatening — reluctant  as  ever  to  give  you 
up,  and  anxious  as  ever  to  save  and  bless 
you."  O  the  amazing  patience  we  have 
•all  experienced  from  the  Lord  Jesus  !  It  is 
as  wonderful  as  his  love  itself.  Well  may 
he  say,  "  Behold,  I  stand."  He  comes  and 
knocks  ;  he  seeks  us  before  we  seek  him — 
that  is  one  wonder  ;  he  stands  and  knocks  ; 
he  continues  to  seek  us — that  is  another. 
And  few  of  us  think  how  much  we  owe  to 
this  patience.  But  for  this,  those  among 
us,  who  have  obtained  mercy,  would  not 
have  obtained  it,  for  which  of  us  opened 
his  heart  to  Christ  when  Christ  first  knock- 
ed at  it  ?  And  it  is  owing  to  this,  that  oth- 
ers of  us  are  yet  within  mercy's  reach. 
The  sun  of  this  sabbath,  brethren,  is  now 
•shining  brightly  on  you;  "the  glorious 
gospel  of  the  blessed  God"  is  this  day 
preached  to  you  ;  and  wherefore  ?  You 
talk  of  the  divine  grace  and  goodness,  and 


you  have  reason  to  talk  of  them  ;  but  0 
think  of  the  divine  patience  also !  Were 
it  not  for  this,  you  would  be  at  this  moment 
out  of  the  sight  of  that  sun  and  beyond  the 
sound  of  that  gospel.  The  grave  would  have 
your  bodies,  and  a  dark  hell  your  souls. 

III.  We  may  now  make  a  third  inquiry 
—  What  does  this  graaous  Strcmger  at  our 
door  wish  us  to  do  ?  He  knocks  for  admit- 
tance, and  what  he  wants  of  us  is,  that  we 
should  open  the  door  and  let  him  in.  By 
this  is  meant  what  is  frequently  called  in 
scripture  a  "  receiving  of  Christ  Jesus  our 
Lord." 

You  know  how  you  act  when  you  let 
any  one  into  your  house.  You  first  hear 
him  knocking,  and  then  you  go  to  the  door, 
and  remove  its  fastenings,  and  throw  it  open 
to  him.  Now  transfer  this  to  your  own 
hearts.  Naturally  Christ  has  no  place  in 
them  ;  that  is,  he  does  not  dwell  in  their 
thoughts  or  affections.  He  is  just  as  much 
to  them  as  a  man  standing  outside  the  door 
is  to  a  house,  and  no  more — near  them,  but 
not  in  them.  To  open  the  heart  to  him  is 
therefore  to  discover  that  he  really  has 
been  shut  out  of  the  heart,  and  yet,  notwith- 
standing this,  is  waiting  to  come  in.  It  is  to 
hear  his  voice  in  the  gospel  calling  to  us,  and 
asking  for  admittance  ;  and  then  to  open  the 
heart  to  him,  and  give  him  admittance.  The 
bolts  and  the  bars  are  broken.  Unconcern 
is  cast  away,  and  hardness  of  heart,  and 
prejudice  against  the  gospel,  and  self-right- 
eousness, and  self  dependence,  and  unbe- 
lief— all  those  miserable  things  that  close 
up  the  natural  mind  against  Christ — and 
the  mind,  slowly  perhaps,  but  willingly 
and  at  last  joyfully,  opens  itself  to  admit 
into  it  Christ  and  his  truth.  It  believes  his 
declarations,  confides  in  his  promises,  looks 
for  pardon  to  his  blood,  lays  hold  of  his 
righteousness,  comforts  itself  in  his  inter- 
cession, and  submits  itself  to  his  laws. 

And  this,  you  observe,  is  described  in 
the  text  as  the  soul's  own  act.  It  is  rep- 
resented as  our  work.  We  are  to  open 
the  door.  And  yet,  brethren,  a  man  has 
no  more  power  in  himself  to  throw  open  his 
heart  to  Christ,  than  a  dead  man  has  to 
burst  open  his  own  grave  ;  or  if  he  has  the 
power,  he  will  not  use  it.  Sermons  can- 
not make  him  do  it  ;  mercies  cannot ;  af- 
flictions cannot ;  conscience  cannot.  O  if 
they  could,  would  there  be  one  heart  here 
closed  against  him  ?  Whenever  therefore 
these  things  prove  effectual,  it  is  God  him 


CHRIST  STANDING  AT  THE  DOOR. 


51 


self  who  makes  them  so  ;  and  makes  them 
so  by  a  special  exercise  of  his  power  in  the 
heart  itself.  It  was  not  Paul's  preaching 
hy  the  river-sicfe  at  Philippi,  it  is  said  to 
have  been  the  Lord  himself,  that  opened 
the  heart  of  Lydia.  And  here  in  this  chap- 
ter he  claims,  or  seems  to  claim,  tliis  work 
as  his  own.  He  speaks  of  himself  as  "  he 
that  hath  the  key  of  David  :  he  that.open- 
eth  and  no  man  shuttPth,  and  shutteth  and 
no  man  openeth."  He  can  do  with  our 
hearts,  he  intimates,  just  what  he  pleases  ; 
and  none  but  he  can  do  with  them  to  any 
holy  purpose  any  thing  at  all. 

"Why  then,"  you  may  say,  "does  he 
call  on  us  to  open  our  hearts  to  him  ?  Is 
not  this  absurd  ?"  I  answer,  No.  It  is 
Christ's  way  to  make  us  "  workers  togeth- 
er" with  him  in  his  good  work  nf  grace  in 
our  souls.  He  does  all  o^  it,  but  he  does 
it  by  us,  as  well  as  in  us.  Hence  he  does 
not  come  and  make  a  forcible  entry  into 
our  hearts,  breaking  into  them  against  our 
consent  ;  he  comes  and  knocks,  and  at  the 
same  time  he  inclines  us  by  his  Spirit  to 
listen  to  his  knocking,  and  to  be  affected  by 
his  goodness  and  patience  in  it,  and  to  be 
won  over  by  it,  and  at  last  to  rise  up  and 
Bay,  or  rather  to  fall  down  at  his  blessed 
t'eet  and  say,  "  Lord,  take  this  vile  heart. 
Make  it  thine.''  View  it  in  one  light,  the 
admission  of  Christ  into  a  sinner's  heart  is 
as  much  God's  work  as  though  man  did 
nothing  in  it ;  view  it  in  another,  it  is  as 
much  man's,  as  though  God  did  nothing. 
Man  works,  but  he  works  by  a  power  and 
by  a  will  also,  that  God  has  given  him.  "  I 
drew  them,"  says  the  Lord  of  his  people  of 
old,  and  with  cords  and  bands — there  is  his 
almighty  power;  there  he  puts  his  own 
stamp  on  his  own  work — but  how  did  he 
draw  them  ?  He  tells  us — "  with  cords  of 
a  man,  with  bands  of  love;"  not  as  brute 
beasts  that  must  be  driven  and  forced,  but 
as  men,  as  reasonable  beings,  by  convin- 
cing their  judgments  and  laying  hold  of 
their  hearts. 

It  is  well  however  when  questions  of  this 
nature  do  not  trouble  us.  It  is  well  when 
we  lose  all  anxiety  about  them.  We  cer- 
tainly shall  lose  it,  if  ever  we  are  deeply 
humbled  under  God's  mighty  hand.  "  I 
must  understand  this,"  and  "  I  must  recon- 
cile that,"  says  the  young  man  in  Christ's 
school.  "  But  not  so  I,''  says  the  old  Chris- 
tian. "  I  will  not  attempt  it.  Enough  for 
me  to  receive  and  obey  God's  word.     If 


he  tells  me  his  Holy  Spirit  must  open  my 
heart  before  his  dear  Son  can  enter  m,  I 
will  implore  him  with  my  whole  soul  to 
set  it  open.  And  if  he  commands  me  to 
open  it,  I  will  bless  him  for  that  command. 
I  know  he  will  give  me  power  to  obey  it. 
I  will  say.  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly, 
and  enter  in.  Long  enough  have  the  world 
ana  ^.n  kept  this  house,  and  O  what  a  den 
of  uncleanness  and  abominations  have  they 
made  it !  It  is  strange  indeed  that  thou 
shouldest  desire  to  dwell  in  such  a  place, 
but  here  it  is.  If  thou  art  willing  to  come 
into  it,  I  am  willing  to  have  thee  in  it,  for 
thy  love  has  made  me  willing.  O  may  I 
have  thee  there,  and  never,  never  lose 
thee." 

IV.  We  have  yet  one  question  more  to 
ask — What  wUl  this  exalted  Being  at  our 
door  do  for  us,  if  ice  Jet  him  in  ? 

In  the  preceding  verses,  we  find  our  Lord 
speaking  to  us  as  a  merchant,  as  one  who 
has  something  to  sell,  which  he  counsels  us 
to  buy.  He  has  gold  for  us,  he  says,  and 
raiment,  and  medicine ;  and  these  thinsrs, 
he  tells  us,  we  want,  for  we  are  "  wretche<l, 
and  miserable,  and  poor,  and  blind,  and 
naked."  When,  therefore,  he  says  imme- 
diately afterwards,  "  Open  the  door  to  me," 
we  are  ready  to  think  his  object  is,  that  we 
may  take  these  things  of  him.  And  true 
it  is,  he  does  not  come  to  our  door  empty- 
handed.  "  It  hath  pleased  the  Father  that 
in  him  should  all  fulness  dwell ;"  and  there 
he  stands  laden  with  the  most  abundant 
supplies  for  us  ;  with  more  for  us  than  we 
can  need,  or  desire,  or  ever  exhaust.  But 
this  is  not  the  truth  he  means  to  convey  in 
this  text.  The  metaphor,  you  perceive,  is 
changed.  He  is  no  Icfhger  a  merchant  de- 
siring to  sell  to  us  the  things  we  want ;  he 
stands  knocking  at  ourdoor,  anxiousto  come 
in  as  our  guest.  He  does  not  say,  "  If  any 
man  hear  my  voice  and  open  the  door,  I  will 
heal  him,  and  clothe  him,  and  make  him 
richer  than  an  angel  ;"  he  says,  "  I  will 
come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup  with  him,  and 
he  with  me." 

"I  will  come  in  to  him."  There  his 
presence  is  promised,  and  with  it  the  light, 
and  comfort,  and  bliss,  and  glory,  of  it. 
Of  these,  in  its  present  state,  the  heart  can- 
not hold  much,  and  the  little  it  can  hold,  it 
is  not  always  in  a  frame  to  enjoy  ;  but  O 
to  have  Chri.st  in  the  heart,  to  have  the 
King  of  glory  making  our  unworthy  souls 
his  dwelling  place,  living,  abiding,  acting 


CHRIST  STANDING  AT  THE  DOOR. 


in  them — Mfietlier  he  reveal  his  presence, 
or  cloud  at  seasons  the  f^^lory  of  it — who 
does  not  say,  "  This  indeed  is  blessedness  ? 
1  liave  my  sorrows,  Init  with  Christ  within 
me,  I  have  still  within  me  a  fountain  of 
amazing  joy." 

"I  will  sup  with  liini,"  adds  Christ, 
"  and  he  witli  me."  This  implies  a  mani- 
festation of  Christ  in  the  heart  lie  dwells  in, 
and  intercourse  and  communion  with  it. 
"  I  will  not  only  come  in  to  him,"  he  says, 
"  but  he  shall  know  that  I  am  come  in.  I 
will  sit  down  with  him  as  a  com])anion  and 
a  friend.  There  shall  be  great  intimacy 
and  familiarity  between  him  and  me.  And 
more — I  will  condescend  to  be  entertained 
by  him  ;  I  will  share  his  meal.  There 
shall  be  a  participation  of  comforts  ancj  en- 
joyments between  us." 

Sometimes  in  scripture  our  Lord  describes 
himself  as  preparing  a  feast  for  sinners,  and 
inviting  sinners  of  all  kinds  to  come  and 
partake  of  it ;  but  here  he  seems  to  call  on 
the  sinner  to  make  a  feast  for  him.  He 
invhes  himself  to  his  house  and  table.  The 
meaning  is,  that  he  not  only  imparts  mer- 
cies and  comforts  to  the  believing  soul,  and 
in  great  abundance,  but  feels  a  delight  in 
imparting  them  ;  he  himself  eats,  as  it  were, 
of  his  own  supper,  feasting  on  those  very 
mercies  and  comforts  with  which  he  blesses 
his  beloved.  In  other  words,  their  happi- 
ness increases  his.  We  think  only  of  our 
own  joy  when  we  receive  Christ,  but  there 
is  joy  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  yes,  and  in 
the  mind  of  God,  on  our  account.  We 
think  only  of  the  happiness  of  the  redeem- 
ed when  the  last  great  day  shall  come  and 
all  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  shall  be  gath- 
ered in,  but  there  will  be  joy  unutterable  in 
the  Redeemer's  own  infinite  soul.  The 
day  of  his  appearing  will  be  to  him  a  day 
of  wonrlerful  happiness.  The  most  joyous 
banqueter  at  the  marriage-supper  of  the 
Lamb,  shall  be  that  Lamb  himself.  The 
church  shall  bo  happy,  Ijut  Christ,  its  Lord, 
happier  than  all. 

Shall  we,  brethren,  behold  this  scene  ? 
"  I  will  sup  with  him,  and  he  with  me." 
Is  this  true  of  us  in  any  measure  now  ? 
Will  it  be  true  of  us  in  a  heavenly  world  ? 
Another  question  must  be  answered  first — 
have  we  opened  our  hearts  to  this  gracious 
Saviour  ?  I  need  not  say  that  he  has  again 
and  again  knocked  at  them  all.  Tlion;  is 
not  a  man  here,  who  has  not  heard  his  calls 
for  admittance  and  almost  his  supplications. 


Many  among  you  must  be  ready  to  neaj 
witness  to  his  condescension  and  patience. 
"Yes,"  you  say,  "the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
has  come  up  to  me  a  thousand  times,  offer- 
ing me  mercy."  Beloved  brethren,  liave 
you  received  .lesus  Christ  and  his  mercy  ? 
It  sometimes  happens  that  his  calls  to  us 
are  so  frequent,  that  we  learn  to  despise 
them.  Mis  mercy  is  proclaimed  to  us  so 
often,  that  the  proclamation  of  it  becomes 
at  last  like  a  thrice  heard  tale.  "  Behold," 
he  cries,  as  though  he  were  saying  a  won- 
derful thing,  as  though  he  expected  all 
earth  and  heaven  to  be  astonished  at  his 
words,  "  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and 
knock  ;" — we  listen  to  him  as  though  he 
were  saying  something  not  at  all  wonder- 
ful, no,  nor  even  worth  our  attention.  O 
to  be  proof  against  the  marvellous  conde- 
scension and  grace  of  Christ ;  to  sit  here  or 
elsewhere  Avhere  Christ's  gospel  is  preach- 
ed, and  to  have  our  hearts  year  after  year 
unaffected  by  it,  and  becoming  more  and 
more  indifferent  to  it  the  longer  we  hear  it ; 
to  be  easy  and  unconcerned  while  others 
by  our  side  are  ready  to  weep  or  tremble 
— a  heavier  calamity  could  not  fall  on  us. 
Ours  is  a  mournful  and  a  dreadful  case. 
A  reckless  mind,  a  seared  conscience,  a 
hardened  heart — one  step  more,  and  then 
comes  a  lost  soul.  And  something  must 
soon  come.  Things  will  not  go  on  with 
you  forever  as  they  have  been  going  on. 
There  is  a  call  from  heaven,  that  will  be 
tlie  last  call.  There  is  an  offer  of  mercy 
from  Christ,  that  will  be  the  last  offer. 
And  there  is  a  striving  too  of  his  Spirit — 
very  faint  perhaps,  hardly  felt,  soon  over- 
come— a  striving  of  Christ  within  you,  that 
will  be  the  last.  Look  once  again  to  the 
text.  He  says  in  it,  "  I  have  been  stand- 
ing here  and  am  standing  here  yet ;"  but 
he  does  not  say,  "  I  will  continue  to  stand." 
He  almost  says  the  reverse ;  "  I  am  just 
going ;  ere  long  I  am  gone.  You  forget 
that  I  am  only  in  a  standing  position.  I 
have  not  sat  down  at  your  door.  I  am 
ready  to  come  in  and  ready  to  go  away.  It 
would  not  become  me  to  be  forever  a  supj)li- 
ant  to  sinners.  Not  your  threshold,  the 
throne  of  glory  is  my  homo,  and  thither  i 
am  about  to  return.  And  if  I  once  go,  I  will 
never  come  here  again.  Ye  shall  seek  me. 
and  shall  not  find  me.  Between  me  and 
you  there  shall  be  a  great  gulf  fixed. 
Where  I  am,  thither  ye  cannot  come." 
O  think  of  this,  you  who  have  stifled 


THE  PRINCE  OF  PEACE. 


53 


many  convictions,  and  hardened  your  hearts 
against  unnumbered  invitations  and  mercies. 
Think  not  you  of  a  standing  Saviour  ;  think 
rather  of  a  departinir  one.  He  has  called 
often  after  you  ;  call  now  after  him.  lie  is 
yet  within  reach  of  your  cry  ;  yea,  he  still 
says,  "  If  any  man  hear  my  voice  and  open 
.he  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him" — "any 
man;"  he  excludes  none;  not  even  you 
who  have  so  long  excluded  him.  This 
very  sermon  is  a  proof  that  he  does  not.  O 
that  some  of  you  may  be  led  by  it  to  open 
your  hearts  to  him,  and  taste  the  blessed- 
ness of  having  him  in  them  !  You  know 
not  what  he  can  be  to  you  till  you  let  him 
in.  Others  that  you  have  admitted  into 
your  hearts,  have  deceived,  and  wounded, 
and  perhaps  polluted  them  ;  but  the  Lord 
Jesus  will  not  deceive  or  wound,  and  he 
cannot  pollute.  He  will  be  to  you  what 
none  but  he  can  be,  a  portion  for  your  soul, 
a  satisfying  and  never-failing  portion,  "  the 
hope  of  glory"  while  you  live,  and  "  the 
fulness  of  joy"  when  you  die. 


SERMON  XI. 


THE  THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  THE  EPIPHANY. 

THE  PRIN'CE  OF  PEACE. 

Isaiah  ix.  6. — "  The  Prince  of  peace." 

This  is  one  of  several  titles  applied  in 
this  verse  to  the  glorious  Saviour.  The 
prophet  foretells  in  it  his  birth,  or  rather,  in 
the  strength  of  his  faith,  he  exultingly  pro- 
claims it  ;  "  Unto  us  a  Child  is  born  ;  unto 
us  a  Son  is  given."  Then  follows  the  office 
this  new-born  Son  is  destined  to  fill ;  "  The 
government  shall  be  upon  his  shoulder;" 
he  is  1o  be  a  King.  And  in  this  character, 
as  in  every  character  he  sustains,  he  is  to 
be  peculiar  and  wonderful.  Never  yet  has 
there  been  a  king  like  him.  He  shall  reign 
forever,  the  next  verse  tells  us,  and  his  gov- 
ernment or  dominions  shall  go  on  increas- 
ing forever  ;  and  how  ?  As  other  mon- 
irchs  have  widened  their  empires,  by  power 
and  might  ?  by  "  the  battle  of  the  warrior, 
and  with  confused  noise  and  garments  roll- 
ed  in  blood  ?"  No,  says  the  prophet  ;  "  the 
increase  of  his  peace"  shall  keep  pace  with 
!he  increa.se  of  nis  government.     He  shall 


be  unlike  all  other  triumphant  sovereigns, 
not  only  in  his  greitness,  but  in  his  mode 
of  acquiring  and  employing  that  greatness  ; 
and  so  unlike  them,  that  his  name  shall  be 
called  "  the  Prince  of  peace."  It  is  not 
his  power,  he  intimates,  which  men  shall 
most  admire  and  wonder  at  in  him  ;  it  is  the 
peace  he  shall  enjoy  and  diffuse. 

I.  He  possesses  peace,  the  abundance  of 
it.  He  possesses  it  as  none  other  docs,  in 
greater  measure.  It  is  all  at  his  command  ; 
he  is  the  Prince  or  Monarch  of  it. 

And  here,  brethren,  we  must  send  our 
thoughts  upward  to  the  quiet  he  enjoys  in 
his  own  holy  heaven.  He  is  in  a  world 
where  the  noise  of  our  strife  and  tumult 
never  reaches.  Discord  is  never  known 
there,  change  is  never  experienced.  Beau- 
tifully indeed  is  his  tranquillity  described  in 
the  twenty-ninth  psalm.  Below  him  the 
admiring  psalmist  places  a  troubled  sea,  an 
image  of  our  noisy  and  restless  world  ;  but, 
"The  Lord,"  he  says,  "  sitteth  above  those 
water-floods;"  his  throne  and  dwelling- 
place  are  on  high,  in  a  region  far  above  all 
commotions  and  storms.  There  is  the  idea 
of  repose  in  his  language,  and  repose  that 
can  never  be  disturbed  ;  "  The  Lord  re- 
maineth  King  for  ever." 

And  then  we  must  try  to  get  into  his 
mysterious  soul,  and  see  the  eternal  calm 
'which  reigns  there  day  after  day,  year  after 
year,  and  age  after  age,  unbroken.  All  is 
as  quiet  within  as  around  him.  And  it  is 
not  the  quiet  of  inaction  or  indifference,  of 
a  clod  of  earth  or  a  stone  ;  his  mind  is  ever 
working  and  ever  feeling,  and  with  an 
energy  which  to  us  is  inconceivable  ;  but 
yet  his  mind  is  never  rufllcd.  There  is 
the  power  of  a  torrent  within  it  without  the 
torrent's  violence  ;  the  ocean's  depth  and 
might,  without  a  billow  or  a  sound. 

Conceive  then  of  heaven  as  a  quiet  place, 
and  conceive  of  Christ  with  a  quiet  mind 
in  heaven,  and  you  have  the  first  idea  sug- 
gested  in  the  text — our  glorified  Saviour 
possesses  peace ;  he  enjoys  it ;  he  is  a 
peaceful  Prince. 

II.  He  is  peaceable  ;  he  exercises  peace. 
The  expression  in  the  text  seems  intended 
to  bring  before  us  the  gentleness  of  our 
Lord's  disposition  and  conduct. 

Look  at  him  as  he  trod  our  earth.  The 
meek  and  quiet  lamb  was  an  image  of  him. 
"  He  shall  not  strive  nor  cry,"  said  the 
Holy  Spirit  concerning  him  before  his  com- 
ing, "  neither  shall  any  man  hear  his  voice 


54 


THE  PRINCE  OF  PEACE. 


in  the  streets  ;"  aiicj  well  was  the  prophecy 
fulfilled.  The  earth  had  never  before  seen 
such  forbearance  and  gentleness.  Peace 
seemed  to  form  his  very  nature.  The  great- 
est provocations  could  not  irritate,  nor  the 
most  cruel  treatment  of  a  cruel  world  in- 
cense him.  And  look  at  him  now  on  the 
throne  of  his  glory.  He  is  a  Lamb  still. 
Ho  calls  himself  such  in  his  holy  scripture 
again  and  again  ;  and  all  his  conduct  to- 
wards our  world  harmonizes  with  the  title. 

He  bears  long  with  his  enemies.  Many 
calls  he  gives  them,  which  they  contemn, 
but  he  calls  them  still.  Many  insults  they 
offer  him,  but  he  exposes  himself  to  more. 
We  cannot  estimate  the  extent  of  his  pa- 
tience towards  our  despiteful  world.  We 
do  not  enough  try  to  estimate  it.  It  is  not 
easy  to  us  to  bear  slight  wrongs  and  provo- 
cations from  one  or  two  of  our  fellow-crea- 
tures even  for  a  short  time.  Patience  we 
soon  find  to  be  hard  work.  But  the  blessed 
Jesus  is  bearing  the  grossest  provocations 
from  a  whole  world  of  sinners,  and  has 
been  bearing  them  without  a  moment's  ces- 
sation forages.  Yet  he  is  still  on  a  throne 
of  mercy  ;  he  is  still  stretching  forth  the 
hand  of  forgiveness  to  our  world  ;  he  is 
still  the  world's  great  Benefactor  and  pa- 
tient Saviour. 

And  he  bears  much  too  with  his  friends. 
We  throw  down  the  weapons  of  our  rebel- 
lion when  we  become  his  people  ;  we  feel 
that  we  must  do  so,  and  generally  we  are 
glad  to  do  so;  but  O  how  ready  are  ive  to 
take  them  up-  again  !  When  he  thwarts 
our  will,  how  often  do we  say,  or  almost 
say,  we  will  not  be  thwarted  !  And  when 
he  afflicts  us  for  our  soul's  good,  how  tempt- 
ed are  we  to  cry  out  that  we  will  not  bear 
it,  that  it  is  not  for  our  good,  but  all  against 
us!  "Here  am  I,  Lord;  do  with  me  as 
thou  wilt,"  is  the  language  of  our  lips;  "  I 
will  be  quiet  in  tiiy  hands  as  a  little  child." 
But  when  he  takes  us  at  our  word,  where 
is  our  quiet  and  child-like  spirit  ?  A  bul- 
lock unaccustomed  to  the  yoke  is  not  more 
headstrong  ;  a  wild  beast  of  the  forest  en- 
tangled in  a  snare,  is  scarcely  more  rest- 
less. Yet  all  this,  and  much  more  than 
this,  Christian  brethren,  he  bears  with  from 
us.  We  are  his  people  still,  loved  with 
all  the  tenderness  of  his  gracious  heart; 
strengthened  and  comforted  by  him  in  the 
very  midst  of  our  perverseness,  and  soothed 
by  kindness  and  gentleness  into  acquies- 
cence with  his  will. 


I  There  must  then  be  a  mighty  inclination 
to  peace,  where  things  are  thus.     Here  on 

j  the  one  hand  are  offending  friends  borne 
with,  loved,  blessed  ;  on  the  other  band, 
rebellious  enemies  tolerated,  reasoned  with, 

I  supplicated,  and,  on  their  submission,  par- 
doned ;  and  all  this  going  on  not  on  some 
favored  day  or  in  some  happy  year,  but 
every  year,  and  every  day,  and  for  centu- 
ries. If  we  see  nothing  else  in  our  glori- 
ous King,  we  must  see  in  him  unequalled 
patience.  We  must  feel  sure  that  he  is 
"  slow  to  wrath,"  that  he  is  "  very  pitiful." 
He  exercises  peace  as  none  other  does  or 
could  exercise  it  ;  his  name,  therefore, 
shall  be  called  "  the  Prince  of  peace,"  the 
peaceable,  pacific  Prince. 

But  there  is  something  else  intimated  in 
this  title. 

III.  It  implies  that  otir  Lord  bestoics  or 
dispenses  peace. 

God  is  often  called  in  scripture  the  God 
of  that  which  he  communicates.  Only  let 
him  be  the  source  of  any  blessing,  the 
author  and  giver  of  it,  and  the  inspired 
writers  name  him  after  it ;  they  call  him 
the  God  of  it.  Thus  St.  Paul  styles  him 
"  the  God  of  hope,"  '■'  the  God  of  peace," 
"  the  God  of  patience  and  consolation," 
"  the  God  of  all  grace,"  because  grace  and 
all  these  various  blessings  proceed  from 
him.  And  in  this  way  may  our  Lord  be 
called  the  Prince  of  peace.  He  is  the 
great  Peace-maker  and  Peace-giver.  He 
is  the  author  of  all  the  peace  his  j)eople  en- 
joy. He  is  the  great  fountain  of  peace. 
There  is  no  peace  to  be  found  by  us,  but 
in  him. 

Onr  peace  with  God  flows  from  him. 
It  is  a  mournful  fact  that  by  nature  we 
are  not  at  peace  with  God.  Sin  has  made 
a  frightful  breach  between  him  and  us.  It 
has  introduced  into  our  souls  a  feeling  of 
aversion  to  God  and  his  ways  ;  and  a  feel- 
ing so  strong,  that  we  cannot  of  ourselves 
eradicate  or  at  times  control  it.  It  has  led 
every  one  of  us  into  open  rebellion  against 
him,  and  decided  opposition  to  him  in  iioart 
and  life.  Hence  the  scripture  tells  us  that 
the  carnal  or  natural  mind,  the  mind  we 
are  born  with,  is  "enmity  against  God  ;" 
that  we  are  "  alienated  from  him  ;"  and 
that  we  declare  ourselves  to  be  his  "  enp. 
mios  by  our  wiclced  works." 

The  consequence  of  this  enmity  on  our 
part  against  God,  is  enmity  on  (lOil's  part 
against  us.      Not  that  he   bears   ill-will 


THE  PRINCE  OF  PEACE. 


55 


against  us  or  hates  us.  Man  hates  and 
devils  hate,  but  God  never.  The  feeling 
is  opposed  to  his  nature.  Darkness  might 
as  soon  dwell  with  light,  as  one  feeling  of 
hatred  against  a  creature  he  has  formed, 
dwell  in  Jehovah's  mind.  But  then,  we 
must  remember,  he  is  the  Judge  of  all  the 
earth,  and  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  must 
not  be  a  shadow  ;  he  must  do  right.  He 
must  act  in  some  degree  towards  every  one 
he  finds  on  it,  towards  you  and  me,  accord- 
ing to  the  ciiaracter  we  sustain.  If  we  act 
as  rebels,  he  must  deal  with  us  as  reljcls. 
lie  cannot  admit  us  to  his  favor,  though  he 
may  desire  to  do  so  ;  he  must  rather  brand 
us  witi)  his  displeasure.  And  it  is  useless 
to  cavil  at  this  statement.  It  is  not  the  Bible 
only,  which  asserts  it  ;  a  sutfering  world 
bears  witness  to  it ;  the  confession  of  a 
whole  guilty  world  goes  along  with  it. 
What  are  the  sacrifices  of  heathen  nations, 
their  bloody  rites  and  cruel  penances  ? 
They  are  all  etTorts  to  proi)itiate  an  ofiend- 
ed  Deity  ;  they  all  declare  witli  the  Bible 
the  same  awful  fact,  that  man  is  sinful  and 
his  God  displeased. 

Now  in  this  state  of  things,  the  blessed 
Saviour  interposes.  He  takes  upon  him 
our  nature,  and  thus  becomes  qualified  to 
be  a  mediator  or  peace-maker  between 
God  and  us.  Allied  to  both  parties,  he  is 
a  fit  person  to  reconcile  them,  and  he  is 
disposed  to  do  so  at  any  cost.  And  how 
does  he  heal  the  breach  ?  He  "  makes 
peace  tiirough  the  blood  of  his  cross."  "  I 
will  sacrifice  myself,"  he  says,  "  rather 
than  let  this  strife  go  on  ;"  and  he  did  sacri- 
fice himself,  and  with  this  sacrifice  God 
was  well  pleased.  It  so  honors  his  law, 
that  now,  notwithstanding  that  law,  he  can 
show  mercy  to  sinners,  indulge  all  the 
kindness  of  his  heart  towards  them,  take 
them  into  his  nearest  and  dearest  favor,  and 
give  them  his  kingdom.  The  Father  can 
now  act  as  a  Father,  fehe  God  of  love 
manifest  himself  a  God  of  love.  There 
never  was  a  particle  of  enmity  in  his  heart 
against  us  ;  there  is  not  now,  if  we  arepeni. 
tent  seekers  of  his  mercy  through  Christ 
Jesus,  any  displeasure  in  his  conduct.  He 
"  was  angry  with  us,  but  his  anger  is  turn- 
ed away."  I,  a  guilty  sinner,  may  fall 
down  before  him,  and  feel  as  sure  of  his 
love  for  me,  as  though  I  had  never  offended 
him,  as  though  from  the  hour  of  my  birth 
I  had  l>een  his  obedient  child. 

And  the  same  sacrifice  that  reconciles 


God  to  man,  serves  also,  by  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  to  reconcile  man  to  God. 

One  main  reason  why  we  hate  God,  is 
our  fear  of  him.  We  know,  when  we  be- 
gin to  know  any  thing  aright  of  him,  that 
he  is  a  holy  God,  and  as  such  will  not  bear 
with  our  iniquities.  We,  therefore,  shrink 
from  him.  We  dislike  him  partly  because 
we  dread  him.  But  a  believing  view  of 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ  removes  this  fear. 
It  meets  the  sinner  on  his  own  ground.  It 
sets  out  as  he  sets  out,  with  the  admission 
that  God  is  holy  and  sin  dreadful.  But 
"  O  what  mercy,"  says  the  sinner,  "  do  I 
see  there!  I  have  been  thinking  of  God's 
anger,  but  what  is  his  anger  to  the  love 
which  is  there  exhibited  ?  God  is  not  the 
appalling  Being  I  have  thought  him,  not 
the  (rod  of  unmingled  wrath  and  vengeance 
my  fears  have  made  him.  He  must  be  a 
God  of  mercy  and  wonderful  mercy,  or  he 
would  never  have  provided  for  a  wretch 
like  me  such  a  Saviour."  And  this  con- 
viction gradually  gains  strength  in  the  sin- 
ner's mind,  and  softens  his  mind,  and  step 
by  step  wins  him  over  to  God.  It  takes 
fear  out  of  his  heart,  and  puts  admiration 
and  love  in  its  stead.  It  draws  him  with 
the  cords  of  love.  It  makes  his  whole 
heart,  its  best  and  tenderest  atFections, 
God's.  "  I  cannot  go  on  sinning,"  he 
says,  "against  such  a  Friend.  Base  as  I 
am,  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  thus  madly 
flying  in  the  face  of  such  a  God.  It  cuts 
me  to  the  heart  that  I  have  so  long  been  a 
rebel  against  him.  The  fear  of  liiin  did 
nothing  for  mo.  True,  I  sometimes,  like 
the  devils,  trembled  at  his  vengeance,  but, 
like  them,  I  stood  out  against  it.  It  never 
subdued,  it  never  humbled  me.  But  the 
mercy  that  I  behold  there,  the  sight  of  my 
abased,  suffering,  bleeding,  dying  Lord — 
I  cannot  withstand  that.  Lord,  take  this 
vile  heart  of  mine.  Take  me,  all  I  am 
and  have,  and  make  me  thine."  Brethren, 
you  may  not  understand  this,  you  may 
never  have  felt  it  ;  but  there  is  not  a  real 
Christian  on  the  face  of  the  whole  earth, 
who  does  not  understand  and  feel  it.  In- 
quire of  such  a  man  what  first  brought  him 
to  love  his  God — he  will  ask  you  if  you 
have  a  father  whom  you  have  neglected, 
and  insulted,  and  braved,  and  all,  because 
with  the  utmost  love  to  you,  he  has  been  so 
good  a  father  that  he  cannot  bear  to  see 
you  making  yourself  vile,  plunging  into 
misery  and  guilt,  without  saying  to  you, 


56 


THE  PRINCE  OF  PEACE. 


This  must  not  be.  "Then,"  he  will  say, 
"  suppose  you  saw  that  father  stripping 
himself  of  all  he  has  ;  bearing  indignity, 
suffering,  and  disgrace,  and  bearing  it  with- 
out a  murmur;  coming  to  you,  telling  you 
he  has  done  all  this  for  your  sake,  that  he 
loves  you  though  you  love  not  him,  and 
that  he  cares  not  what  he  suffers  so  that  he 
can  regain  your  love  and  save  you  from 
destruction  ;  conceive  of  him  as  humbling 
himself  1  efore  you,  and  imploring  you  to 
turn  to  him  and  treat  him  as  a  father — 
could  you  bear  this  ?  Could  you  hold  out 
and  spurn  that  father  from  you  ?"  "  Nor," 
says  the  Christian,  "  can  I  spurn  from  me 
my  heavenly  Father.  He  has  borne  with 
more  from  me,  he  has  undergone  more  for 
me,  he  has  showed  me  more  love,  than 
words  can  tell  ;  and  hard  as  is  this  bad 
heart  within  me,  it  must  give  way  ;  it  must 
and  shall  be  his." 

And  hence  it  is  that  St.  Paul  so  often 
speaks  of  our  being  reconciled  to  God  by 
the  cross  of  Christ.  He  seems  to  have  this 
more  in  his  mind,  than  the  reconciliation  of 
God  to  us.  He  generally  speaks  as  though 
the  latter  work  were  already  done ;  as 
though  on  God's  side  all  were  effected,  all 
displeasure  gone.  The  main  thing,  he  in- 
timates, the  cross  has  now  to  do,  is  to  work 
on  us,  and  soften  us,  and  bring  us  over  to 
God.  "  Fie  hath  committed  unto  us,"  he 
says,  "  the  word  of  reconciliation.  Now 
then  we  are  ambassadors  for  Christ,  as 
though  God  did  beseech  you  by  us  :  we 
prav  you  in  Chirist's  stead,  be  ye  reconciled 
to  God." 

And  peace  too  among  men — Christ  is  as 
much  the  author  of  that,  as  of  peace  be- 
tween man  and  God.  We  think  not.  We 
think  tliat  prudence,  and  forbearance,  and 
our  kindness,  will  preserve  the  peace  of  so- 
ciety around  us,  or,  if  by  any  accident  it 
should  be  interrupted,  they  will  quickly  re- 
store it;  but  experience  comes  at  last  and 
undeceives  us.  We  discover  that  a  stronger 
arm  is  needed  here  than  our  o-.vn.  We  find 
out  that  though  any  rash  hand  is  able  to 
make  a  wound  in  society,  it  requires  a  hand 
more  skilful  than  our  own,  to  heal  it.  Peace 
between  man  and  man,  the  peace  of  families, 
the  peace  of  parishes,  the  peace  of  king- 
doms— it  is  all  the  work  of  Christ,  as  rcallv 
so  as  the  peace  of  heaven. 

And  it  is  the  same  also  within  our  own 
breasts.  Peace  of  conscience  and  peace  of 
mind  are  his  gifts.     Let  God  once  wound  a 


heart,  all  the  world  cannot  heal  it;  but  let 
Christ  speak  peace  to  it,  all  the  world  can- 
not  disturb  it.  Tt  is  astonishing  how  wretch- 
ed a  man  may  be  with  nothing  in  the  world 
to  trouble  hiin  ;  it  is  astonishing  too  how 
peaceful  a  child  of  God  sometimes  is  with 
every  thing  around  to  disquiet  him.  Bui 
the  mystery  may  be  explained.  In  the  one 
case,  the  soul  is  drawing  peace  from  him 
who  is  the  fountain  of  it,  it  is  in  close  com- 
munion with  its  Saviour;  in  the  other,  that 
fountain  is  forgotten,  or  something  has 
blocked  up  the  channel  which  communi- 
cates between  it  and  the  soul. 

IV.  Christ  delights  in  peace  :  therefore 
also  he  may  be  called  the  Prince  of  it. 

That  frequent  mention  which  is  made  of 
this  blessing  in  his  gospel,  cannot  be  an  ac- 
cidental or  unmeaning  thing.  It  shows  us 
how  much  the  thought  of  this  blessing 
dwells  in  his  own  mind,  and  how  highly  he 
values  it.  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest," 
sang  the  angels  at  his  birth,  and  this  we 
might  have  expected.  Their  whole  souls 
are  taken  up  with  the  contemplation  of  the 
divine  glory,  and  their  whole  lives  spent  in 
the  adoration  of  it ;  it  was  natural  there- 
fore that,  in  this  wonderful  hour,  they 
should  first  think  of  it.  But,  as  though  en- 
tering into  the  new-born  Saviour's  own  feel- 
ings, peace  on  earth  comes  immediately 
afterwards  into  their  song.  The  glory  of 
Jehovah  first — peace  next — what  can  mag- 
nify this  blessing  more  ? 

And  every  thing  which  Christ  said  and 
did  on  earth,  harmonized  with  this  angelic 
song.  We  dare  not  say  that  he  thought 
more  of  peace  than  of  any  thing  eise,  but 
next  to  doing  his  Father's  work  and  pleas- 
ing him,  he  thought  of  nothing  so  much. 
When  his  love  for  his  dear  disciples  was 
drawn  forth  to  the  very  utmost  just  before 
his  death,  he  could  not  find  a  more  precious 
legacy  to  leave  them,  than  peace ;  and 
when  he  saw  them  again  after  his  resurrec- 
tion, he  came  with  the  same  blessing,  as  it 
were,  in  his  hand.  It  is  still  in  his  thoughts 
and  on  liis  lips.  And  think  of  that  declara- 
tion of  his  in  the  beginning  of  the  first  ser- 
mon he  ever  preached;  "Blessed  are  the 
peacemakers,  for  they  shall  be  called  the 
children  of  God."  To  others  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  is  promised,  others  shall  be  com- 
forted ;  the  merciful  shall  obtain  mercy, 
and  the  pure  in  heart  shall  see  (iod  ;  but 
if  Christ  would  show  us  God's  ehiltlren, 
those  who  most  plainly  wea'-  his  image,  and 


THE  LAST  JUDGMENT. 


57 


most  resemble  him,  and  are  owned  by  him  |  ruled  to  the  glorifying  of  our  blessed  Lora 
,.,:.k  tv,«  rrroato^t  inv    hp  «Pnd«  ns  tn  the    and  the  abasing  of  ourselves!      We  sliall 


with  the  greatest  joy,   he  sends  us  to  the  |  and  the  abas 


peacemakers;  to  those  who  delight  the 
most  in  what  he  himself  delights  in — har- 
mony and  love. 

For  these  four  reasons  then  Christ  may 
well  bear  the  title  which  is  here  given  him. 
He  possesses  and  enjoys  peace ;  he  exer- 
cises and  manifests  it ;  he  bestows,  restores 
and  diiluses  it;  he  delights  in  it. 

And  observe  again,  that  the  prophet  says 
he  shall  be  called  by  this  name.  It  is  to 
be  no  secret  name,  but  a  public,  well  known 
title.  And  this  implies  that  he  not  only 
shall  be  all  we  have  now  described,  but 
shall  be  seen  and  acknowledged  to  be  such. 
Wherever  he  is  worshipped  as  the  mighty 
God  and  honored  as  the  everlasting  Father, 
there  he  shall  be  adored  and  rejoiced  in  as 
the  Prince  of  peace.  The  guilty  shall  come 
to  him  for  peace  of  conscience,  the  wretch- 
ed shall  seek  in  him  peace  of  mind,  and  the 
calm  and  happy  shall  ascribe  to  him  all 
the  happiness  they  enjoy. 

But  it  is  not  easy,  brethren,  to  bring  men 
to  this.  "  Why  cannot  I  make  my  own 
peace  with  God  ?"  says  the  proud,  self- 
righteous  soul.  "  Why  should  I  be  indebt- 
ed io  any  Mediator  ?"  "  And  why  cannot 
I  quiet  tills  aching  heart  of  mine  ?"  says 
another.  "  Why  cannot  I  lay  to  rest  these 
distressing  fears,  these  corroding  cares, 
these  wretched  workings  of  my  gloomy 
mind  ?  I  rrust  pray  more,  and  read  more, 
and  think  more,  and  reason  with  myself 
more,  and  that  will  do  it."  And  it  is  the 
same  with  contentions  in  families  and  so- 
cieties. We  try  to  quiet  them.  _  We  go 
from  house  to  house  and  from  neighbor  to 
neighbor,  thinking  we  can  surely  reason 
into  quietness  all  strife  and  discord  ;  and  it 
is  not  till  we  have  found  that  we  are  aggra- 
vating rather  than  diminishing  the  evil,  that 
we  feel  our  weakness. 

Now  what  ought  this  to  teach  us?  Not 
to  say,  "There  is  no  peace  for  us:  our 
consciences  must  still  torment,  and  our 
griefs  disquiet,  and  our  cares  oppress  us  ; 
and  a  contentious  world  must  be  conten- 
tious still  :"  but  rather  it  teaches  us  to  look 
upward  for  the  peace  we  sigh  for;  to  think 
of  Christ  as  the  great  Peacemaker,  and  to 
seek  our  peace  in  him.  It  is  to  bring  us 
to  this,  that  he  suffers  our  peace  to  be  so 
often  interrupted.  May  God  grant  that 
every  interruption  of  it,  however  distress- 
ing  or  evil,  may  end  in  this!  may  be  over- 
8 


have  peace  then  ;  we  siiall  have  peace  al- 
ways when  we  look  to  our  great  Prince  for 
it— Ipeace  of  every  kind,  and  in  as  great  a 
measure  as  will  be  good  for  us.  But  even 
then  the  earth  will  not  be  a  heaven.  We 
may  have  consolation  in  it ;  "  the  wolf  may 
dwell  with  the  lamb  and  the  leopard  lie 
down  with  the  kid  ;"  but  there  will  still  be 
briers  and  thorns,  yes,  and  beasts  of  prey, 
in  our  world,  and  we  must  expect  still  to 
suffer  from  them.  We  must  be  content  to 
suffer.  It  is  the  same  world  that  our  Mas- 
ter  suffered  in.  O  that  we  were  more  con- 
tent to  eat  of  the  same  bread  he  ate  in  it! 
O  that  we  could  walk  in  it  as  patiently  as 
lie  walked,  as  meekly  and  quietly  !  Lord, 
make  us  more  like  thee.  Be  thou  indeed 
our  Prince.  Give  us  thy  peace,  and  O  give 
us  with  it  thy  patient,  thy  meek  and  lowly 
mind ! 


SERMON  XII. 

THE    FOURTH   SUNDAY  AFTER   THE  EPIPHANr. 

THE  LAST  JUDGMENT. 

Revelation  xx.  11,  12.—"/  saw  a  gnat  white 
throne,  and  him  that  sat  on  it,  from  ic hose  face 
the  earth  and  the  heaven  fled  away,  and  there 
was  found  no  place  for  them.  And  I  saw  the 
dead,  small  and  great,  stand  before  God;  and 
the  books  were  opened,  and  another  book  was 
opened,  which  is  the  book  of  life  ;  and  the  dead 
were  judged  out  of  those  things  which  were 
written  in  the  hooks,  according  to  their  works." 

It  was  a  visionary  representation  only 
of  this  august  scene,  that  the  apostle  be- 
held :  we  shall  behold  the  scene  itself,  the 
great  reality.  And  we  shall  be  more  than 
spectators  of  it,  we  shall  be  parties  in  it. 
With  some  things  that  are  written  in  this 
mysterious  book,  we  may  have  little  or  no- 
thing to  do ;  they  concern  others  but  not 
us:  "with  what  is  written  here,  we  have 
every  thing  to  do.  There  is  not  a  creature 
in  the  universe,  who  has  a  deeper  concern 
in  it  than  ourselves.  May  a  God  of  grace 
ijive  to  us  all  a  solemn  feeling  of  our  inter- 
est in  it ! 

It  is  the  judgment  of  the  great  day,  that 
this  scripture  brings  before  us ;  and  in  the 
vision  the  apostle  had  of  this,  we  may  notice, 

I.   The  majesty  of  ths  'ribunal 


58 


THE  LAST  JUDGMENT. 


In  another  passage  of  scripture,  this  is 
called  simj)ly  a  judijment  seat,  but  here  it 
is  "  a  throne,"  tlie  judgment  scat,  not  of  an 
ordinary  magistrate,  but  of  a:  king.  It  is 
a  high  tribunal  therefore,  the  very  highest 
to  which  we  can  be  brought ;  and  if  so,  the 
sentence  passed  here  will  be  a  final  one. 
There  is  no  reversal  of  it,  no  appeal  from 
it,  for  there  is  no  loftier  court  to  which  we 
can  take  it.  We  accordingly  call  this  "  the 
last  judgment ;"  it  will  never  be  succeeded 
by  any  other. 

And  this  throne  is  said  to  be  "  a  great" 
one ;  great  because  it  is  erected  for  a  great 
King,  and  for  a  great  purpose — the  trial  of 
a  whole  world  is  to  take  place  before  it. 

And  it  is  "  a  white"  throne.  This  may 
betoken  both  the  splendor  and  the  purity  of 
it.  Would  the  evangelists  describe  the  splen- 
dor of  our  Lord's  appearance  when  he  was 
transfigured  ?  His  raiment,  they  say,  was 
white,  "  white  as  the  light."  And  would 
the  blessed  Jesus  painl^  to  us  in  this  book 
the  purity  of  his  redeemed  in  heaven  ?  He 
shows  them  to  us  "  clothed  with  white  robes." 
So  here  this  throne  is  represented  as  white. 
It  is  a  throne  of  the  most  dazzling  bright- 
ness and  the  purest  justice.  Its  very  ap- 
pearance proclaims  it  to  be  the  throne  of 
One  who  is  of  infinite  majesty,  that  great 
Judge  of  all  the  earth  who  will  do  right. 

II.  Observe  the  person  of  this  Judge. 

The  apostle  does  not  name  him.  He 
seems  withheld  by  awe  and  reverence  from 
naming  him.  But  he  clearly  discovers  to 
us  who  he  is.  He  tells  us,  in  the  twelfth 
verse,  that  he  is  God,  and,  in  the  beginning 
of  the  text,  that  he  is  God  in  a  visible  form. 
"  I  saw  him,"  he  says.  This  can  be  none 
other  then  than  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  God 
manifest  in  our  flesh  ;  hidden  from  us  now 
indeed  by  space  and  distance,  but  as  dis- 
cernible now  by  human  eyes  were  he  among 
us,  as  any  one  of  ourselves,  and  as  surely 
to  be  seen  at  a  future  day  by  every  one  of 
us,  as  you  are  now  beheld  by  me,  brethren, 
or  I  by  you.  "  Behold,  he  cometh  with 
clouds,"  this  book  says,  "  and  every  eye 
shall  see  him."  "  Ye  shall  see  the  Son  of 
Man,"  he  himself  says, "  coming  in  the  clouds 
of  heaven;"  and  see  him,  not  coming  only, 
but  when  he  is  come,  when  he  is  on  his 
throne.  "  I  saw  a  great  white  throne,  and 
him  that  sat  on  it" — there  is  not  a  man  here 
whose  wondering  eyes  will  not  one  day  be- 
hold, and  clearly  behold,  the  same  awful 
sight. 


The  appointment  of  the  Lord  Jesus  To  ber 
our  Judge,  is  frequently  declared  in  scrip- 
ture. It  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  all  the 
divine  procedure  in  our  world'.  God  made 
the  world  by  his  Son,  redeemed  it  Ijy  liis 
Son,  governs  it  by  his  Son,  and  will  here- 
after judge  it  by  his  Son.  But  this  scrip- 
ture intimates  to  us,  what  other  scriptures 
plainly  assert,  that  our  Lord  will  not  judge 
the  world  simply  in  his  divine,  but  rather 
in  his  human  character  and  forni.  God  he 
must  be,  or  he  could  not  judge  it  at  all,  he 
would  not  be  qualified ;  but  he  will  appear, 
when  he  comes  to  judgment,  as  man.  In 
the  very  same  form  in  which  he  left  the 
world,  will  he  return  to  it  again ;  and  when 
he  places  himself  on  what  he  himself  calls 
the  throne  of  his  glory,  his  throne  of  judg- 
ment, he  will  sit  there,  he  himself  declares 
and  seems  to  exult  while  he  declares  it,  as 
the  Son  of  Man.  "God,"  says  his  apostle, 
"  hath  appointed  a  day  in  the  which  he  will 
judge  the  world  in  righteousness  by  that 
Man  whom  he  hath  ordained."  And  hoW' 
the  heart  warms,  brethren,  as  we  think  of 
the  Saviour's  triumph  in  that  day  !  he  who 
lay  in  a  manger,  now  lifted  up  on  a  throne; 
he  who  was  one  of  the  very  lowest  of  the 
sons  of  men,  now  exalted  the  highest  ;  he 
whom  the  world  spurned,  hated,  crucified, 
tried  to  cast  out  of  it,  now  with  that  same 
world  trembling  at  his  feet ;  not  a  creature 
that  ever  lived  in  it,  but  is  beholding  his. 
majesty  and  feeling  his  power !  Here  is 
justice,  we  may  say,  here  is  retribution,  in 
the  very  commencement  of  this  judgment, 
the  very  constitution  of  this  court — the  once 
abased,  but  now  exalted,  openly  exalted 
Jesus,  is  receiving  from  his  Father  a  com- 
pensation for  all  his  former  degradation  and 
shame. 

III.  We  have  next  in  this  vision  the  dis- 
solution of  the  whole  material  world. 

And  this  is  described  as  taking  place  in 
a  particular  manner.  The  psalmist  appears 
to  use  very  lofty  language,  when  he  speaks 
of  our  Lord  as  destroying  the  earth  and  the 
heavens.  "  As  a  vesture  shalt  thou  fold 
them  up,"  he  says,  "and  they  shall  be 
changed."  He  represents  him  as  bringing 
them  to  an  end  with  as  nmch  ease  as  a  man 
folds  up  a  garment,  and  puts  it  away.  But 
here  the  language  is  loftier ;  "  From  his 
face  the  earth  and  the  heaven  fied  away." 
They  do  not  wait  to  be  destroyed.  As 
though  unable  to  bear  the  majesty  and  glo- 
ry  which  have  suddenly  burst  on  them,. 


THE  LAST  JUDGMENT. 


59 


like  affrighted  and  confounded  tnintrs,  tliey 
fly  at  tlie  sif^ht  of  it.  And  not  only  so, 
"  there  was  found  no  place  for  them,"  the 
apostio  adds.  The  guilty  earth,  the  heav- 
ens that  iiave  witnessed  its  guilt,  far  as  they 
fly,  cannot  fly  far  enough  from  the  presence 
of  their  holy  Lord.  Tlieir  existence  is  now 
out  of  character  with  his  revealed  purity  and 
glory,  and  with  the  pure  and  glorious  or- 
der of  things  he  is  about  to  establish.  They 
would  be  incumbrances,  blots  and  deform- 
ities in  his  new  creation.  Therefore,  they 
not  onlv  fly  from  him,  they  tremble  to  pieces 
as  they  fly,  sink  into  nothing.  Like  the  man 
of  sin,  "  the  wicked  one,"  St.  Paul  speaks 
of,  the  Lord  consumes  them,  not  by  his  pow- 
er, but  "  with  the  spirit  of  his  mouth;"  he 
destroys  them,  not  by  a  blow  of  his  arm, 
but  by  his  mere  appearance,  "  the  bright- 
ness of  his  coming." 

And  this  is  the  end  of  your  idol,  brethren. 
Here  is  what  the  god  whom  so  many  of 
you  worship,  will  at  last  come  to,  and  come 
to  in  vour  sight.  The  world  you  adore,  is 
a  doomed  world.  When  you  rise  up  at  the 
last  day,  you  will  see  it  rolled  together  as 
a  scroll,  and  perish.  All  you  have  coveted 
and  admired  in  it,  you  will  see  one  moment, 
like  the  vile  chaff"  or  dust,  Scattered  away  ; 
the  next  moment,  like  something  viler  than 
the  chaff"  or  dust,  annihilated,  put  out  of  be- 
ing. Shall  I  say,  what  is  a  man  advan- 
taged if  he  gain  the  whole  of  such  a  world 
as  this  ?  He  has  gained  that  only,  which, 
in  the  hour  of  his  greatest  need,  when  the 
dream  of  life  is  over,  and  his  real  existence  is 
about  to  begin  ;  when  he  sees  an  intermin- 
able existence  stretching  itself  out  like  some 
lx)undless  desert  before  him,  and  feels  that 
he  must  enter,  must  pass  into  it — he  has 
gained  only  that  which,  in  this  hour  of  his 
extremity,  will  utterly  disappear;  be  no 
more  to  him  or  to  any  one,  than  a  shadow  that 
is  vanished.  The  world  would  be  a  poor 
thing  to  make  our  portion,  even  if  it  were 
destined  to  last  forever,  but  we  shall  be 
alive  ages  and  ages  after  it  has  perished  ; 
and  if  the  world  is  our  all,  where  then  will 
our  happiness  be?  where  will  our  comfort 
and  support  be  ?  O  if  ever  there  has  been 
hunger  and  thirst  felt  anywhere,  aching, 
craving,  tormenting  desires,  they  will  be 
found  in  the  worldly  man's  heart,  when 
that  heart  is  in  eternity,  and  the  world  is 
gone! 

IV.  Turning  age  in  to  this  vision,  observe, 
furtlier,  the  sirange-  vast  assembly  gathered 


together  in  it ;  "  1  saw  the  dead,  small  and 
great,  stand  before  God." 

"  The  dead" — those  who  were  once  dead 
but  are  now  alive  again,  brought  out  of 
their  graves  by  the  cununanding  voice  of 
the  descending  Judge.  Ho  erects  his  throne, 
he  comes  down  from  heaven,  to  judge  all 
the  children  of  men,  and  before  he  proceeds 
to  judge  them,  he  collects  them  together, 
assembles  them  from  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
and  every  one  of  them,  so  that  his  judgment 
may  be  at  once  final  and  complete. 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive,  brethren,  of  a 
multitude  like  this.  We  cannot  conceive 
of  it.  We  could  not  place  before  our  minda 
in  one  throng,  even  the  few  millions  of  liv- 
ing men  now  inhal)iting  our  own  land : 
much  less  the  multiplied  millions  who  have 
lived  and  died  in  it  from  the  beginning  ;  but 
here  are  all  the  millions  of  men  who  have 
lived  and  died  in  all  the  earth  since  the 
earth  began,  all  uprising  from  the  ground 
in  one  and  the  same  awakening  moment, 
and  all  brought,  by  some  secret,  irresistible 
impulse,  to  one  and  the  same  spot ;  gather- 
ing  together,  some  willingly,  some  reluctant- 
ly ;  some  joyfully,  some  despairingly  ;  but 
yet  gathering  together,  all  in  one  vast  as- 
sembly, before  one  and  the  same  throne. 
What  a  spectacle — a  Being  in  the  human 
form  calling  up  from  their  graves,  and  com- 
pelling to  stand  before  him,  every  one  of 
the  human  race  who  has  ever  breathed  ; 
without  difficulty,  without  effcirt,  placing 
them  all  passive  and  powerless  at  his  bar! 
Well  may  he  say,  "  Ye  shall  see  the  Son 
of  Man  coming  in  the  clouds  of  heaven 
with  power." 

"The  dead,  small  and  great."  Now  at 
last  the  distinctions  between  man  and  man 
have  ceased  ;  at  least,  they  avail  no  man 
any  thing,  they  do  not  appear,  in  this  tre- 
mendous hour.  The  beggar  rises  up  from 
his  dunghill,  and  the  king  from  his  stately 
tomb,  for  the  same  judgment,  and  stand  to- 
gether side  by  side  perhaps  before  the  same 
Judge.  None  so  great  as  to  be  allowefl  to 
escape  this  trial,  none  so  mean  as  to  be 
overlooked  in  it.  None  so  holy  or  so  dear 
to  God,  as  to  be  exempt  from  judgment, 
none  so  unholy  as  to  be  condemned  without 
it.  "  We  nmst  all  appear  before  the  judg- 
ment-seat of  Christ."  "Every  one  of  us 
shall  give  account  of  himself  to  God." 

V.  Let  us  look  now  at  the  process  of  this 
judgment,  the  manner  in  which  it  will  be 
conducted.     And   herein    we    may   notice 


60 


THE  LAST  JUDGMENT. 


three  things — the  exactness  of  it,  the  justice 
of  it,  and  a  wonderful  display  of  grace 
whicli  will  be  made  in  it. 

1.  lis  exactness.  "  The  books  were  open- 
ed," the  apostle  says.  In  the  prophet  Daniel 
we  find  the  same  language.  He  too  rep- 
resents an  immense  multitude  assembled 
at  Christ's  throne.  "  Thousand  thousands 
ministered  unto  him,"  he  says,  "  and  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  stood  before 
liim  ;"  and  then  he  adds,  "  The  judgment 
was  set,  and  the  books  were  opened." 
Here  is  doubtless  an  allusion  to  earthly 
tribunals.  A  strict  judge  will  have  the 
law  before  him  by  which  the  criminals  are 
to  be  tried,  and  the  evidence  to  support  the 
charges  against  them  openly  produced. 
He  is  not  content  with  acting  uprightly, 
with  judging  righteous  judgment  ;  he  must 
be  seen  to  act  uprightly,  the  judgment  he 
gives  must  be  acknowledged  to  be  righte- 
ous. So  here — our  great  Judge  neecls  no 
books,  no  records,  to  guide  his  decisions. 
"  All  things  are  naked  and  opened  unto 
him  ;"  and  let  him  give  what  sentence  he 
will,  no  one  has  power  to  gainsay  it  or  to  ask 
of  him,  "  Why  doest  thou  this  ?"  But  this 
judgment  is  set  for  the  display,  not  so  much 
of  his  sovereignty,  as  of  his  equity,  and  he 
will  judge  the  sons  of  men  with  as  much 
particularity,  exactness,  may  I  say  care 
and  caution  1  as  though  he  were  a  fallible 
mortal,  rather  than  the  unerring,  omnis- 
cient, supreme  God.  Heaven  and  hell, 
everlasting  life  and  everlasting  death,  hang 
on  his  sentence ;  .men  shall  see  as  he  gives 
it,  that  he  has  not  given  it  from  partiality 
or  caprice,  in  ignorance  or  in  haste,  but 
equitably,  carefully,  like  one  who  knows 
what  he  is  doing  and  is  determined  to  do 
right. 

"  The  books  were  opened" — the  book  of 
God's  law  ;  the  law  of  his  universe,  which 
every  creature  is  bound  by  his  very  exist- 
ence in  his  universe  to  obey. 

The  book  of  his  gospel — a  book  super- 
added in  man's  case  to  the  book  of  the  law, 
and  as  binding  on  man  when  made  known 
to  him,  as  the  law  itself.  We  often  mistake 
here,  brethren.  We  regard  the  gospel  as 
something  given  us  to  be  received  or  re- 
jected at  our  pleasure.  If  we  reject  it,  we 
lose,  we  think,  the  blessings  it  offers  us  ; 
and  there,  we  suppose,  the  matter  ends  ; 
but  the  matter  does  not  end  there.  The 
gospel  comes  to  us  with  a  command  to  us 
to  believe  and  accept  it ;  it  has  incur  case 


the  character  and  authority  of  a  law  ;  and 
when  the  great  judgment  comes,  we  shall 
be  tried  by  it.  The  first  question  may  be, 
"  There  is  the  book  of  God's  universal  law  ; 
have  you  obeyed  it  ?"  but  the  next  will  be. 
"  Here  is  the  book  of  his  gospel ;  have  vou 
accepted  that  wonderful  offer  of  mercy  "this 
book  proclaims  ?"  "God  shall  judge  the 
secrets  of  men,"  says  Paul,  "by'^Jesus 
Christ  according  to  my  gospel."  "  The 
word  that  I  have  spoken,"  says  Christ  him- 
self, "  the  same  shall  judge  you  in  the  last 
day." 

And  there  is  the  book  of  God's  remem- 
brance— a  book  which  is  represented  to  us 
as  a  register  of  us  all,  and  of  all  the  ac- 
tions, words,  and  thoughts,  of  us  all  ;  a 
book  which  an  all-seeing  God  has  ever 
open  before  him,  and  in  which  with  his 
own  hand  he  is  recording  every  moment, 
in  anticipation  of  this  judgment,  how  every 
moment  of  our  lives  is  passed. 

And  then  there  is  a  book  to  be  opened 
within  us,  the  book  of  memory  and  con- 
science.  This  is  now  more  than  half  closed 
up.  Our  sinful  fall  has  weakened  our 
memories,  so  that  the  impressions  made  on 
our  minds  by  passing  events  is  slight.  We 
can  recall  comparatively  but  few  of  them, 
and  of  those  few  our  recollection  soon  be- 
comes dim  and  indistinct.  Our  conscience 
too  is  impaired.  Sin  and  sensuality  have 
deadened  it.  The  cares,  pleasures,  hurry 
and  turmoil  of  life,  nearly  smother  it. 
They  give  it  scarcely  an  opportunity  of 
speaking  within  us ;  and  when  it  "does 
speak,  we  cannot  always  trust  it ;  its  voice 
is  generally  feeble  and  often  false.  But 
when  the  grave  is  passed  and  we  are  before 
our  God  in  judgment,  memory  and  con- 
science will  wake  up  within  us  as  from  a 
long  sleep.  Memory,  faithful  at  last,  will 
discover  to  us  that  it  has  retained  thousands 
of  things  which  it  had  long  seemed  to  have 
let  go,  every  thing  perhaps  with  which  our 
minds  have  been  ever  conversant ;  and  con- 
science, faithful  at  last,  will  accuse  us  per- 
haps, without  omission  or  mistake,  for  every 
sin.  There  are  few  of  us,  who  have  not 
at  intervals  been  surprised  at  the  power  of 
these  two  faculties  within  us  ;  it  is  an  indi 
cation  of  their  future  power  when  they  are 
called  forth  in  their  full  energy  before  our 
Judge. 

Such  will  be  the  exactness  of  this  judg- 
ment ;  "  The  books  will  be  opened  ;" 
opened  to  be  examined,  opened  to  decide 


THE  LAST  JUDGMENT. 


Gl 


ihe   sentence  that  is  to  be  passed  on  us. 
And  hence  appears 

2.  The  justice  or  equity  of  this  judgment ; 
"  The  dead  were  judjred  out  of  those  things 
which  were  written  in  the  l)Ooks."  False 
accusers  can  do  nothini,'  against  us  now. 
Friends  and  flatterers  can  do  nothing  for  us. 
They  will  not  be  listened  to.  Tiie  books, 
the  true  and  faithful  books  only,  will  be 
regarded,  and  by  their  testimony  will  our 
sentence  be  determined. 

The  dead  were  judged  out  of  the  books 
"  according  to  their  works."  Here  all  rules 
of  judgment,  save  one,  appear  to  be  set 
aside.  Try  us  by  our  words,  professions, 
or  even  some  of  our  desires  and  feelings, 
we  might,  we  think,  bear  the  trial  of  this 
day,  but  God  says  he  will  not  now  try  us 
by  these.  They  are  before  him,  he  has 
them  in  his  book ;  in  his  own  mind  he 
estimates  our  character  in  a  great  measure 
by  them  ;  but  this  judgment  is  for  the  open 
vindication  before  his  creatures  of  his  sen- 
tence on  us,  and  he  must  try  us  by  a  rule 
which  all  liis  creatures  can  see  and  under- 
stand. Our  works,  the  things  we  have  ac- 
tually done — they  shall  be  the  tests  of  our 
character  and  the  rule  of  his  judgment  in 
this  day.  Who  does  not  shrink  from  such 
a  rule  "and  test  ?  But,  brethren,  we  can- 
not alter  it.  Cur  mighty  Lord  will  have 
his  way  when  he  calls  the  world  to  his  bar, 
and  we  must  bear  to  be  tried  there  by 
whatever  standard  he  pleases.  Who  then, 
we  ask  again,  can  escape  ? 

3.  Observe //te  wonderful  grace  that  will 
he  manifested  hy  him  in  this  judgment. 

There  is  another  book  mentioned.  It  is 
mentioned  alone,  and  appears  to  have  been 
brouglit  forward  alone  in  this  vision  after 
all  tlie  other  books  had  been  produced. 
"  Another  book  was  opened,  which  is  the 
book  of  life." 

We  must  place,  in  our  imaginations,  the 
whole  world  standing  convicted  before  the 
Judge.  The  book  of  God's  law  has  been 
opened,  declaring  the  commands  we  are  all 
bound  to  obey  ;  and  the  book  of  God's  re- 
membrance, proving  that  times  out  of  num- 
ber we  have  broken  them.  These  two 
Dooks  so  far  then  are  books  of  condemna- 
tion and  death  to  us.  But  there  is  the  book 
of  the  gospel — what  says  that  ?  "  He  that 
believeth  shall  be  saved,"  it  says.  Though 
condemned  by  the  law,  he  shall  not  under- 
go its  sentence,  he  shall  be  pardoned  and 
delivered.     "  And  that  sinful  man,"  says 


the  great  Judge  on  his  throne,  as  one  and 
anotiier  of  his  people  appears  before  him, 
"that  sinful  man  has  believed.  Here  in 
my  book  of  remembrance  is  proof  upon  proof 
of  it  ;  works  of  faith  and  labors  of  love 
wliich  mv  Spirit  put  it  into  his  heart  to  per- 
form,  and  which  in  my  strength  ho  did  |)er- 
form  to  the  glory  of  my  name.  Now  bring 
forward  that  book  of  life.  It  is  my  once 
secret  register  of  all  that  are  mine.  Open 
it.  There  stands  that  man's  name  written  ; 
I  with  n.y  own  hana  wrote  it  there  ;  and 
though  my  law  condemns  him,  and  record 
upon  record  condemns  him,  yet  he  believed 
in  me  for  salvation,  and  that  is  enough — 1 
will  never  condemn  him.  I  will  not  blot 
out  his  name  out  of  that  book  of  life,  but  I 
will  confess  his  name,  declare  and  proclaim 
it  here  as  a  name  dear  to  me,  before  my 
Father  and  before  his  angels." 

And  thus  the  equity  and  the  grace  of  the 
great  Judge  shine  forth  together.  His  grace 
is  wonderfully  displayed  and  glorified  in 
the  salvation  of  his  people.  An  admiring 
universe  sees  that  all  whom  he  saves,  are 
saved,  not  for  their  own  works  or  deserv- 
ings,  but  altogether  by  his  free  mercy 
through  faith  in  his  own  precious  blood  and 
righteousness.  And  yet,  by  making  their 
works  the  tests  and  proofs  of  their  faitii  in 
his  righteousness  and  blood,  he  displays  and 
glorifies,  along  with  his  grace,  his  holy 
justice  ;  their  salvation  does  not  appear  an 
act  of  his  mere  sovereignty  only,  but  an 
act  also  of  his  equity  and  truth.  He  prom- 
ised salvation  to  all  who  should  believe  in 
him  ;  these  men  have  proved  their  faith  in 
him  by  their  works  ;  he  is  faithful  and  just 
therefore  in  giving  them  his  salvation. 

Say  not  then,  brethren,  that  I  have  been 
leading  you  away  from  the  glorious  gospel 
as  I  iiave  been  endeavoring  to  explain  to 
you  this  text.  These  are  the  texts,  which 
make  a  thoughtful  man  cling  to  that  gospel. 
They  show  us  the  value  of  it,  how  greatly 
we  need  it,  and  how  certainly  and  irrecov- 
erably undone  we  shall  be  at  the  last  if  we 
come  short  of  its  great  salvation.  Instead 
then  of  saying  to  you  as  an  inspired  apostle 
perhaps  would  say  -were  he  here,  "  Seeing 
then  that  all  these  things,"  these  earthly 
things,  "  shall  be  dissolved,  what  manner 
of  persons  ought  ye  to  be  in  all  holy  con- 
versation and  godliness  ?"  I  would  rather 
proclaim  to  you  yet  once  again,  with  this 
solemn  scene  immediately  before  us,  the 
free,  abounding,  superabounding,  magnifi 


62 


THE  TARES  AND  THE  WHEAT. 


cent  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  He 
has  done  much,  brethren,  to  save  you  when 
you  stand  before  him  in  this  judgment.  He 
knew  that  you  must  stand  before  him  in  it, 
and  he  has  come  down  and  died  in  this 
miserable  world  for  you,  that  he  might  not 
condemn  you  when  you  should  appear  be- 
fore him.  He  is  keeping  you  alive  now, 
now,  it  may  be,  in  your  worldly-minded- 
ness,  your  sins  and  follies,  that  you  may 
not  come  to  this  judgment  without  an  inter- 
est in  his  death.  He  is  calling  on  you  to 
seek  it ;  he  tells  you  that  you  may  have  it 
as  freely  as  the  beggar  in  your  streets  may 
open  his  hand  and  receive  your  proffered 
alms.  "  Believe  and  be  saved,"  was  his 
call  to  you  ten,  twenty,  perhaps  twice  ten 
or  twenty  years  ago;  he  has  not  altered 
his  call  now,  though  you  have  all  this  time 
trifled  with  and  despised  it.  "  Believe  and 
be  saved,"  is  his  language  to  you  still. 
His  book  of  life  is  within  reach  of  his  bless- 
ed hand.  One  look  of  yours,  one  prayer, 
one  simple  sentence  uttered  with  an  honest 
heart,  "  Lord,  I  believe,  help  thou  mine 
unbelief,"  and  your  name  shall  be  written 
there  ;  and  once  written,  nothing  shall  ever 
blot  it  out.  He  will  remember  you  on  his 
great  white  throne ;  and  when  your  turn 
for  trial  comes,  and  the  other  books  are 
opened,  he  will  turn  to  this  ;  there  shall 
your  name  be  found,  and  though  you  may 
have  approached  as  near  destruction  as  any 
one  ever  approached  without  sinking  into 
it,  you  shall  be  saved,  saved  in  the  Lord 
with  an  everlastins;  salvation. 


SERMON  XIIL 


THE  FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  THE  EPIPHANY. 
THE  TARES  AND  THE  WHEAT. 

St.  Matthew  xhi.  30. — "  Let  both  grow  together 
until  the  harvest  ;  and  in  the  time  of  harvest  I 
will  say  to  the  reapers,  G  a  the"- ye  together  first 
the  tares  and  bind  them  in  bundles  to  burn  them, 
but  gather  the  wheat  into  juy  barn." 

Some  of  our  Lord's  parables  relate  to  in- 
dividuals only,  others  to  his  church  chiefly. 
This  is  of  the  latter  class.  It  sets  before 
us, 

L  The  mixed  condition  of  his  church  in 
our  world.     It  is  a  field,  it  says,  in  which 


tares  and  wheat  are  growing  together  com- 
mingled  and  confused.  And  here  is  a 
proof  of  our  Lord's  foreknowledge — he  saw 
at  this  early  period  what  his  church  would 
be  ;  and  a  proof  of  his  holy  character. 
What  would  an  impostor  or  an  enthusiast 
have  said  ?  "  The  whole  world  lieth  in  wick- 
edness, but  come  into  my  church — all  is  pu- 
rity here  ;  it  is  a  moral  paradise  in  this 
wilderness."  "But  you  will  find  noxious 
weeds  even  here,"  says  Christ :  "  the  right- 
eous and  the  wicked,  the  sincere  and  the 
hypocrite,  the  polluted  and  the  clean,  are 
standing  here  side  by  side." 

That  this  is  the  case  now,  we  well  know. 
That  it  ever  has  been  the  case,  is  equally 
certain.  We  hear  indeed  of  the  purity  of 
the  primhive  church,  but  it  is  as  ideal, 
brethren,  as  the  purity  and  happiness  of  the 
golden  age.  We  open  our  Bibles,  we  turn 
to  ecclesiastical  history,  and  we  .see  that 
Christ's  church  has  been  from  the  first, 
what  it  is  now,  a  mixed  scene,  a  field  of 
worthless  weeds  and  precious  corn  ;  here 
the  corn  predominating  and  there  the  weeds, 
but  everywhere  both  to  be  found. 

And  this  has  been  tlie  case  too  in  spite 
of  almost  incessant  elforts  to  render  it  oth- 
erwise. "  We  will  not  endure  a  corrupt 
church,"  men  have  said.  "  We  will  not 
mix  ourselves  up  as  Christians  with  the 
unholy  and  unbelieving."  And  they  have 
acted  on  what  they  have  said — they  have 
separated  themselves  from  this  church  and 
that,  and  founded  others ;  but  what  has 
been  the  result  ?  Disappointment.  They 
have  carried  away  the  tares  as  well  as  the 
wheat  Avith  them,  and  after  a  time  they 
have  been  constrained  to  say,  "  We  are 
little  bettered."  We  call  our  own  a  pure 
church,  and  pure  it  is  in  comparison  with 
many  others,  but  what  is  it  in  fact  ?  With 
our  beautiful  prayer-book,  our  scriptural 
articles,  our  form  of  discipline,  our  fi'nces, 
as  we  may  call  them,  to  keep  out  errors 
and  heresies,  the  ungodly  and  profane, — er. 
ror  and  heresy,  the  ungodly  and  profane, 
never  have  been  kept  out  and  never  will 
be.  All  experience  says,  we  might  as  well 
build  a  wall  round  our  field  or  garden,  and 
say,  "  Now  we  shall  have  no  weeds."  We 
may  wonder  at  this,  brethren,  but  we  can- 
not alter  it.  Such  is  the  Lord's  will,  ana 
we  must  be  silent. 

II.   Mark  in  the  parable  the  cause  of  this 
mixed  condition  of  the  church. 

We  may  say  it  is  natural,  and  so  it  is ; 


THE  TARES  AND  THE  WHEAT. 


63 


but  our  Lord  does  not  say  tliis.  He  leails 
us  furthe4-  tlian  nature,  into  the  unseen  spir- 
itual world,  to  account  for  it. 

The  existence  of  his  people  here,  he  tra- 
ces to  himself.  He  compares  them  to 
wheat  springing  up,  not  spontaneously,  the 
natural  produce  of  the  ground  it  stands  on, 
but  from  seed  brought  and  so^vn  there. 
And  this  seed,  he  says,  he  sowed  himself. 
It  is  his  word,  the  word  of  liis  gospel.  This 
he  causes  to  be  preached  in  the  world,  pre- 
paring here  and  there  the  hearts  of  men  to 
receive  it,  implanting  it  in  tiieir  hearts, 
rooting  it  and  making  it  fruitful  within 
them  ;  and  there  in  those  places,  through 
the  gospel,  he  has  a  people  rise  up,  a  peo- 
ple of  his  own,  a  peculiar  people,  to  love, 
serve,  and  glorify  him.  Hence  his  people 
are  said  to  be  "  begotten  unto  him"  through 
the  gospel,  and  to  be  "  born  again"  of  seed, 
incorruptible  seed,  which  is  the  word  of 
God. 

And  this  attaches  a  vast  importance  to 
the  faithful  preaching  of  the  gospel.  It  is 
the  a])pointed  ineans  whereby  Christ  gen- 
erally converts  the  soul,  brings  men  to  him- 
self, makes  them  his  own,  gives  them  a 
name  and  a  place  among  his  children. 
"  Sermons  are  nothing,  our  prayers  are  ev- 
ery thing,"  we  sometimes  hear  men  say  ; 
but  let  them  look  at  this  parable,  or  the  par- 
able preceding  it,  that  of  the  sower — they 
must  rather  say,  "  Sermons  are  every 
thing."  The  word,  the  preached  gospel  of 
Christ,  is  represented  in  both  as  lying  at 
the  root  of  all  real  godliness,  as  the  seed  of 
a  sinner's  religion  and  of  his  salvation  also. 
"  It  hath  pleased  God,"  the  apostle  says, 
"  by  the  foolishness  of  preaching" — what  ? 
to  instruct,  comfort,  benefit  ?  no — "  to  save 
them  that  believe."  He  calls  the  gospel 
"  the  word  of  salvation,"  and  an  angel  from 
heaven  calls  it  "  tlie  word  of  life." 

The  tares  too  have  their  existence  in  the 
church  traced  to  a  spiritual  author  ;  "  The 
enemy  that  sowed  them,  is  the  devil." 

"  The  enemy" — Christ's  own  enemy, 
the  twenty-fiftii  verse  tells  us.  God  de- 
clared in  paradise  that  there  should  be  en- 
mity between  these  two,  and  here  this  en- 
mity is  in  operation.  No  sooner  had  Christ 
begun  by  his  gospel  to  gather  sinners  to 
himself,  than  Satan  came  in  to  mar  his 
blessed  work.  He  sowed  good  seed  in  his 
field,  and  he  might,  if  he  had  pleased,  have 
built  a  wall  around  it  when  he  had  done 
so,  and  kept  every  enemy  out ;  but  it  was 


never  his  intention  to  keep  injurious  things 
out  of  it.  He  therefore  left  the  way  into  it 
open,  and  his  enemy  came  in  at  once  and 
sowed  tares.  Man,  left  to  himself,  would 
have  done  much  to  corrupt  the  gosjiel,  but 
Satan  would  not  leave  man  to  himself  He 
came  out  of  darkness  among  us  with  his 
falsehoods,  as  soon  as  Christ  had  come 
among  us  from  the  light  of  heaven  with  his 
truth  ;  and  the  consequence  is,  the  church 
of  Christ  on  the  earth  has  been  from  the 
very  first  a  mixed  scene  ;  it  has  had  truth 
and  error  prevailing  in  it,  false  doctrine 
and  true  ;  a  Christianity  that  enlightens, 
purifies,  exalts,  and  saves  the  soul,  and  a 
pretended  Christianity  that  darkens,  de- 
grades, and  ruins  it ;  "  the  glorious  gospel 
of  the  blessed  God,"  and  "another  gospel" 
which  God  abhors.  And  just  as  Christ's 
truth  enters  into  men's  minds  and  works 
there  through  Christ's  power,  making  them 
"  the  children  of  his  kingdom,"  and  con- 
forming them  to  his  image  ;  so  do  Satan's 
falsehoods  enter  into  men's  minds,  and, 
working  there  through  his  power,  they  form 
the  character  of  men  after  his  model,  and 
lead  them  to  do  his  works.  The  ungodly 
are  accordingly  called  here  "  the  children 
of  the  wicked  one  ;"  they  owe  their  exist- 
ence in  the  church  to  the  wicked  one,  they 
are  the  seed  of  his  sowing. 

And  this  bad  seed,  observe,  this  enemy 
is  represented  as  introducing  into  the  church 
stealthily  ;  "  By  night,  while  men  slept,  the 
enemy  came  and  sowed  tares  among  the 
wheat,  and  went  his  way."  We  seldom 
see  the  origin  of  spiritual  errors  and  cor- 
ruptions. They  spring  up  and  prevail,  but 
we  are  scarcely  conscious  of  their  existence 
till  they  have  taken  root  and  begun  to  cover 
the  land.  As  true  religion  in  a  believer's 
soul  declines  imperceptibly  and  gradually 
— the  man  does  not  fall  down  at  once  to 
where  he  ultimately  sinks,  but  slides  down, 
"  backslides,"  and  this  generally  without 
knowing  it — so  false  doctrine  insinuates 
itself  into  the  church  imperceptibly  and 
gradually.  We  can  hardly  see  when  or 
how  this  and  that  error  first  estal)lished  for 
itself  a  place  among  us.  Satan  does  not 
show  himself  while  ne  is  doing  his  work, 
and  when  it  is  done,  he  is  still  invisible. 
We  look  around  and  see  the  mischief,  but 
we  do  not  see  the  author  of  it  nor  perhaps 
think  of  him. 

And  here  we  have  an  explanation  of  the 
difficulty   we  find  in  putting  down  error. 


64 


THE  TARES  AND  THE  WHEAl', 


We  bring  the  truth  of  Christ  to  bear  against 
it,  and  down,  we  say,  it  must  come  ;  but 
there  it  stands  in  defiance  of  Christ's  truth, 
and  often  too  in  defiance  of  common  sense  ; 
and  this  confounds  us.  We  feel  as  a  man 
would  feel,  who  has  struck  a  cobweb  with 
a  powerful  weapon,  rending  it,  as  he  sup- 
poses, to  atoms,  and  yet  sees  the  cobweb 
entire  and  unhurt  before  him.  Now  that 
cobweb,  this  parable  says,  is  not  of  earthly 
origin  ;  it  is  not  to  be  destroyed  by  an 
earthly  arm.  Satan  is  the  father  of  that 
flimsy  error  ;  he  is  upholding  it  with  all 
his  craft  and  power  ;  and  that  accounts  for 
the  difficulty  we  find  in  beating  it  down. 
We  are  not  fighting  against  flesh  and  blood 
in  contending  with  error  ;  or  if  so,  with  the 
word  of  God  for  our  weapon,  the  contest 
would  soon  be  over  ;  we  are  fighting  against 
the  principalities  and  powers  of  an  unseen 
world,  and  nothing  short  of  the  interposition 
of  the  living  God,  be  our  weapons  what 
they  may,  can  give  us  a  victory  over  them 
or  destroy  their  works. 

III.  Let  us  now  look  at  the  conduct  of 
Christ's  servants  with  respect  to  this  mixture 
in  his  church. 

1 .    They  notice  it. 

The  tares  in  this  field  are  represented  as 
after  a  time  showing  themselves  ;  "  When 
the  blade  was  sprung  up  and  brought  forth 
fruit,  then  appeared  the  tares  also  '*  ap- 
peared as  tares.  And  the  servants  of  the 
householder  see  and  observe  them  ;  for  we 
find  them  coming  immediately  to  their  mas- 
ter and  telling  him  of  them.  So  Christ's 
servants  on  the  earth  cannot  be  blind  to  the 
mixture,  the  corruptions  and  evils,  that  ex- 
ist in  his  church  on  the  earth.  "  All  is 
well,"  others  say.  Whether  truth  or  error 
abounds,  they  hardly  know.  Whether  men 
live  as  the  gospel  commands  them  to  live,  or 
after  the  course  of  this  evil  world,  they  do 
not  care.  The  state  of  Christ's  church  is 
nothing  to  them.  They  feel  as  a  man  feels 
when  he  passes  by  a  stranger's  field — occu- 
pied with  his  own  concerns,  he  never  thinks 
of  noticing  what  state  it  is  in,  whether 
weeds  are  covering  it  or  corn.  But  Christ's 
servants  feel  as  though  that  field  belonged 
to  one  they  love  ;  as  though  it  were  their 
Master's,  or  rather  their  Father's  field. 
They  long  to  see  it  covered  with  corn  ripen- 
ing for  his  garner ;  and  when  weeds  over- 
run it,  they  must  see  them,  they  cannot 
help  seeing  them,  and  wishing  them  away. 
For  mark — 


2.  These  servants  wish  to  alter  this  slate 
of  things,  to  put  an  end  to  this  mixture. 

"  An  enemy  hath  done  this,"  has  sowed 
these  tares,  their  Master  says.  "  Wilt  thou 
then  that  we  go  and  gather  them  up?"  they 
immediately  ask.  An  every-day  question, 
put  by  many  of  Christ's  servants  to  their 
Lord.  We  cannot  enter  into  his  plans. 
We  see  but  a  little  way  before  us,  while  he 
sees  "  the  end  from  the  beginning."  We 
consequently  want  to  alter  his  plans,  to 
make  every  thing,  as  we  say,  go  right  in 
his  church  ;  to  pluck  up  all  that  we  think 
opposed  to  his  honor  and  glory.  Only  let 
us  weed  the  field,  we  think,  and   what  a 


beautiful  field  it  would  soon  becon 


^But 


no,"  God  says  to  us  ;  "  you  must  stand 
aside.  This  is  not  your  work.  You  are 
not  equal  to  it.  In  gathering  up  those 
tares,  you  would  be  very  likely  to  root  up 
also  the  wheat  with  them." 

Observe,  it  is  for  the  wheat's  sake  that 
the  tares  are  to  be  let  alone.  We  often 
want  for  the  wheat's  sake  to  pull  them  up. 
"  There  is  that  hypocrite,"  we  say,  "  that 
worker  of  iniquity.  He  comes  in  and  out 
among  Christ's  people  as  one  of  themselves, 
no  man  suspecting  him.  What  harm  he 
will  do  among  them !  We  must  unmask 
him  ;  we  must  show  him  to  our  neighbors 
and  fellow-Christians  as  he  is."  But  *  Be 
still,"  God  says  to  us  here  ;  '•  leave  that 
man  to  me.  Fret  not  thyself  because  of 
evil  doers.  I  can  guard  my  people  from 
all  the  mischief  they  can  ever  do  them,  or  I 
can  overrule  it  all  to  my  own  glory."  Be- 
sides, we  are  not  always  sure  that  men  are 
the  hypocritical  and  iniquitous  men  we 
deem  them.  We  see  but  a  part  of  their 
conduct,  and  we  often  judge  of  them  as 
though  we  saw  the  whole.  What  should 
we  have  done  with  Peter  when  with  curses 
and  oaths  he  was  denying  his  Master  ?  or 
with  David  before  the  Lord  sent  Nathan  to 
call  him  to  repentance?  We  should  have 
plucked  them  both  up  ;  and  so  we  should 
thousands  who  are  as  dear  to  Christ  as  the 
throne  he  sits  on.  "Leave  those  tares 
alone,"  he  therefore  says  to  us,  "  lest 
while  ye  gather  theni  up,  ye  root  up  also 
the  wheat  with  them." 

IV.  We  may  now  notice  one  thing  more 
— the  end  which  shall  at  last  he  put  to  this 
mixture  in  the  church. 

It  is  not  to  go  on  forever.  "  Let  both 
grow  together  until  the  harvest,"  Christ 
says — "  the   harvest,"   a  definite  time,  a 


THE  TARES  AND  THE  WHEAT. 


65 


time  oven  now  in  Christ's  mind,  and  to 
which  all  ho  is  doing  in  our  world  has  a 
reference. 

"  The  harvest" — it  is  the  time  when  the 
hnshandman's  care  and  lahor  are  over.  He 
has  nothing  now  to  do  but  to  gather  in  for 
himself  the  fruits  of  them.  And  there  is  a 
day  coming  when  the  work  of  the  blessed 
Jfsus,  the  great  spiritual  husbandman,  will 
all  be  over.  The  last  sinner  he  died  to  re- 
deem, will  have  been  redeemed  ;  the  last 
soul  he  will  ever  save,  will  have  been 
saved  ;  the  last  pardon  he  will  ever  give, 
given  ;  his  last  act  of  grace  done  ;  the  last 
design  of  God's  providence  in  our  world 
accomplished  ;  the  world's  last  day,  last 
hour,  last  moment,  come.  Then  will  he 
say,  "The  harvest  of  the  earth  is  ripe. 
Now  sever  me  the  wicked  from  among  the 
just.  Now  gather  out  of  my  kingdom  all 
things  that  offend.  Gather  ye  together  first 
the  tares  and  bind  them  in  bundles  to  burn 
them  ;   but  gather  the  wheat  into  my  barn." 

"  Gather  ye  together  the  tares" — take 
them  out  from  among  the  wheat,  separate 
them ;  and  when  this  is  done,  bring  them 
together,  collect  them  ;  and  then  bind  them 
together,  let  them  never  mix  with  the  wheat 
or  be  separated  one  from  another  again. 
An  affecting  command,  brethren  ;  to  a  feel- 
ing heart,  a  very  solemn  one.  Here  we 
are,  neighbors  and  friends,  parents  and  chil- 
dren, husbands  and  wives,  brothers  and 
sisters,  all  forming  one  assembly.  We 
are  all  mi.\ed  up  day  by  day  one  with 
another.  But  there  is  an  hour  coming, 
when  we  shall  be  rent  asunder.  All  in 
this  congregation  will  be  divided  into  two 
companies,  one  never  to  mingle  with,  never 
to  see,  the  other  more.  And  what  is  to 
be  the  rule  of  separation?  Relationship? 
our  love  and  affection  one  for  another?  our 
desire  to  go  together  and  rejoice  or  suffer 
together?  No.  There  goes  the  wife  and 
there  the  husband  ;  there  the  parent  and 
there  the  child  ;  there  the  brother  and  there 
the  sister;  they  who  are  now  dwelling  in 
the  same  house,  and  sharing  perhaps  the 
same  bed,  are  separated  as  far  asunder  as 
heaven  and  hell.  If  we  have  never  known 
the  cleansing  of  a  Saviour's  blood,  never 
sought  and  found  his  mercy,  no  matter  how 
our  souls  may  now  love  some  of  those  who 
are  his  people  and  cling  to  them,  there  is  a 
day  coming  when  we  shall  be  torn  from 
them,  and  bound  together  with  the  filthy 
and  the  vile.  O  may  the  living  God  put 
9 


David's  prayer  into  many  a  heart  here — 
•'  Gather  not  my  soul  with  siimers."  Cut 
not  me  off  from  the  holy  and  the  good.  An 
eternity  far  from  all  the  excellent  of  the 
earth — an  eternity  with  all  the  vile  of  the 
earth.  O  merciful  God,  save  my  poor  sou! 
from  this ! 

"  But  gather  the  wheat  into  my  barn.' 
"  The  wheat" — here  comes  out  the  love  of 
Christ  for  his  people,  or  rather  the  value 
he  sets  on  them.  He  does  not  look  on 
them  merely  as  a  father  looks  on  a  recov- 
ered child,  as  so  many  objects  of  his  fond 
afTcction  ;  he  looks  on  them  as  a  husband- 
man looks  on  the  corn  he  has  reaped  ;  he 
regards  them  as  valuable  to  him  and  pre- 
cious, enriching  him,  a  blessed  recompense 
for  his  past  labors  and  toils.  You  may 
say,  How  can  so  lofty  a  Being  regard  crea- 
tures such  as  we  are  in  a  light  like  this  ? 
Brethren,  if  you  are  really  his  redeemed 
creatures,  the  purchase  of  his  blood,  you 
know  not  in  what  light  the  Lord  Jesus  re- 
gards you.  He  is  precious  to  your  souls, 
but  you  are  inconceivably  more  precious  to 
his.  You  are  to  be  forever  his  reward  and 
crown  in  the  kingdom  of  his  glory. 

"  Gather  ye  the  wheat  into  my  harn." 
There  is  a  place  prepared  for  the  reception 
of  the  wheat  ;  it  is  standing  prepared  for  it 
while  the  wheat  is  growing.  And,  if  we 
are  Christ's,  there  is  a  place  prepared  for 
us,  brethren,  while,  amid  the  storms  and 
vicissitudes  of  life,  we  are  preparing  for 
that.  The  love  of  Christ  anticipates  our 
going  to  him.  Like  a  father  who  is  look- 
ing for  the  coming  home  of  his  child  from 
some  distant  land,  and  does  not  say,  "  I  will 
get  a  room  ready  for  him  when  he  comes," 
but  gets  it  ready  beforehand,  and  long  be- 
forehand, and  often  thinks  of  the  joy  he 
shall  feel  when  he  leads  him  into  it,  so  does 
Christ  get  ready  the  habitation  of  his  peo- 
ple in  his  kingdom,  and  longs  for  the  time 
when  he  shall  behold  them  in  it. 

And  what  a  day  will  that  be  when  he 
places  them  all  in  it,  the  day  when  this  har- 
vest comes  !  We  are  thanking  God  now 
year  by  year  for  our  earthly  harvests.  A 
whole  nation  is  sometimes  sending  up  to- 
gether its  grateful  praise  to  him  for  this 
welcome  blessing.  But  then  a  whole  uni- 
verse shall  praise  him,  and  praise  him  as 
it  has  never  praised  him  yet.  "  A  new 
song"  shall  then  burst  forth,  in  which 
"  every  creature  which  is  in  heaven  and  on 
the  earth  and  under  the  earth  and  such  as 


66 


CHRIST  A  DESTROYER. 


are  in  the  sea,"  every  living  being,  shall 
join.  There  shall  be  joy  in  heaven,  such 
as  even  heaven  itself  has  never  before 
known  ;  and  he  that  will  rejoice  the  most, 
shall  be  this  great  Lord  of  the  harvest,  the 
Son  of  Man.  We  sliall  be  happy,  but  as 
for  his  happiness,  it  will  be,  compared  with 
ours,  as  a  sea  to  a  cistern.  We,  he  says 
at  the  end  of  this  parable,  "  shall  shine 
forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  our 
Father;"  but  how  will  he  shine?  We 
must  be  in  the  kingdom  of  our  Father  and 
behold  him  in  it,  before  we  can  tell. 

And  now  comes  the  question,  shall  we 
ever  behold  him  in  it  ?  What  are  we,  breth- 
ren, at  this  moment  ?  We  are  standing  in 
the  field,  we  are  in  Christ's  church  ;  are 
we  worthless  tares  in  it,  or  some  of  the  pre- 
cious wheat  ?  We  are  most  certainly  one 
or  the  other.  Christ  himself  is  looking  on 
us  at  this  moment  as  one  or  the  other.  O 
that  every  one  of  us  would  look  into  his 
heart  and  say.  Which  am  I  ?  This  para- 
ble tells  us  plainly  that,  however  diversi- 
fied in  many  respects  our  characters  and 
conditions  may  be,  in  the  Lord's  sight  there 
are  but  two  classes  of  men  among  us  ;  and 
it  tells  us  as  plainly  that  there  are  two 
difFerent  ends  only  awaiting  us  all.  There 
is  the  burning  and  the  barn,  the  furnace  of 
fire  and  the  kingdom  of  the  Father.  It  is 
a  solennn  thoug'v  that  there  is  nothing  for 
us  between  thes^  two,  no  intermediate  con- 
dition. We  must  be  either  lost  or  saved  in 
eternity ;  we  must  spend  that  eternity  in 
heaven  or  in  hell. 


SERMON  XIV. 

THE    SIXTH     SUNDAY    AFTER    THE    EPIPHANY. 

CHRIST  A  DESTROYER. 

1  John  iii.  8. — "  For  this  purpose  the  Son  of  God 
was  manifested,  that  he  might  destroy  the 
works  of  the  devil." 

We  have  again  the  incarnate  Saviopr 
•before  us,  brethren,  but  not  now  as  a  Sa- 
viour ;  the  text  presents  him  to  us  in  a 
character  directly  the  reverse  of  this.  It 
speaks  of  him  as  a  destroyer. 

We  may  divide  it  into  three  parts — the 
works  of  the  devil,  the  manifestation  of  the 
Son  of  God  to  destroy  these  works,  and  his 
destruction  of  them. 


I.   The  works  of  the  devil. 

What  these  may  be  in  the  unseen  world, 
we  know  not ;  we  find  enough  of  them  here 
in  our  world  to  astonish  us.  It  astonishes 
us  indeed,  when  we  reflect  on  it,  that  a  holy 
and  omnipotent  God  should  allow  such  a 
being  to  work  at  all  ;  but  when  we  think 
of  the  number  and  magnitude  of  his  works, 
even  as  far  as  we  can  discover  them,  our 
astonishment  takes  a  new  direction :  we 
wonder  and  wonder  again,  that  any  cre- 
ated being,  however  powerful,  can  be  the 
author  of  mischief  so  great. 

Moral  evil,  sin,  is  one  of  these  works. 
It  is  this  which  the  apostle  has  more  espe- 
cially in  his  mind  here,  and  which  we  may 
regard  as  the  foundation  of  all  the  rest. 
This,  we  know,  was  introduced  into  our 
world  by  Satan.  He  came  and  brought  it 
into  paradise,  planted  it  there,  or  rather  in- 
grafted it  there  into  our  before  holy  nature, 
and  has  ever  since  been  watching  over,  fos- 
tering, and  spreading  it. 

What  we  call  natural  evil,  suffering,  is 
another  of  his  works.  It  grows  out  of  sin. 
By  a  law  of  God's  government  never 
broken,  it  follows  sin  wherever  it  goes,  and 
abounds  wherever  sin  abounds.  The  mass 
of  it  in  our  world,  could  we  see  it  all, 
would  do  more  than  distress,  it  Avould  con- 
found us.  Think  only  of  that  one  city 
which  is  the  metropolis  of  our  own  land. 
Let  any  one  lay  bare  to  us  the  misery  both 
of  body  and  mind,  that  at  this  moment  ex- 
ists there  ;  let  the  eye  and  the  heart  take  in 
at  a  glance  the  whole  of  it ;  we  should  never 
forget  the  sight.  And  yet  what  is  crowded 
London,  with  its  scenes  upon  scenes  of 
poverty,  sickness,  soul-withering  care,  de- 
spondency of  heart,  and  wretchedness — 
what  is  it  to  a  crowded  and  groaning  world  ? 

And  then  comes  discord,  another  work  of 
Satan.  Man  and  his  God  were  walking 
together  at  first  in  a  blessed  amity.  Satan 
came  in  and  severed  between  them.  Man 
fled  at  once  from  his  God,  and  though  his 
God  has  been  following  him  ever  since  with 
offers  of  reconciliation,  just  as  a  kind  father 
would  follow  an  erring  child,  man  has  ever 
since  been  alienated  in  his  afl'cctions  from 
him,  quarrelling  with  all  he  is  and  does, 
with  his  character,  his  law,  his  gospel,  his 
providence,  witli  all  his  ways. 

And  think  of  the  contentions  which  have 
ever  been  going  on  between  man  and  man 
in  nations,  societies,  churches,  and  even 
families — Satan  has  fostered  them  all ;  nay^ 


CHRIST  A  DESTROYER. 


C7 


given  rise  to  them  all.  We  are  sometimes 
ready  to  say,  "  O  what  a  scene  of  turmoil 
and  strife  is  tlie  neighborhood  we  are  living 
in  !  We  will  go  away  from  it  that  we  may 
escape  its  contentions."  But  go  elsewhere, 
and  after  a  little  you  find  out  that  you  are 
among  contentions  again.  It  is  not  this 
place  or  that,  which  is  in  fault ;  it  is  human 
nature.  Satan  has  introduced  the  elements 
of  strife  deep  into  our  nature,  and  we  are 
not  safe  anywhere  on  this  side  heaven  for 
a  single  hour  from  some  contentious  out- 
break. 

And  then  there  is  the  dccrplion  which 
prevails  in  our  world.  I  allude  not  to  the 
deceptions  men  are  everywhere  prantising 
on  their  fellow-men.  ^'hese  are  distress- 
ing enough  ;  but  far  more  distressing  is  the 
sioiritual  delusion  the  world  is  under.  We 
xrnist  trace  this  also  to  Satan.  He  is  called 
Ml  scripture  "the  fatner,"  that  is,  the  au- 
thor "of  lies,"  of  all  lies,  but  more  espe- 
cially of  all  spiritual  lies.  Well  knowing 
that  he  cannot  keep  religion  altogether  out 
of  the  world,  he  deludes  men  with  false 
religions  Thus  he  beguiled  the  heathen, 
and  beguiles  them  still,  leading  them  to  set 
up  idols  and  then  persuading  them  they  are 
cods.  And  thus  he  beguiled  the  Jews,  get- 
tmg  them  to  look  on  their  temple  and  its 
ceremonies  as  the  all  in  all  of  their  reli- 
gion, and  so  turning  their  religion,  their 
divine,  heaven-descended  religion,  into  a 
vain  superstition.  And  look  into  Christian 
lands.  We  mourn  over  what  Satan  has 
done  here  in  our  own  land,  the  tares  he  has 
sown  in  this  richly  cultivated,  favored  field 
of  the  Lord  ;  the  strange  errors,  and  here- 
sies, and  follies,  he  has  caused  from  time 
to  time  to  spring  up  among  us  ;  but  go  into 
popish  lands,  and  especially  into  those  lands 
where  popery  is  not  forced  to  crouch  before 
pul)lic  opinion  as  it  is  here,  but  feels  itself 
at  liberty,  and  can  stretch  itself  out  fear- 
lessly in  all  its  gigantic  deformity  ;  tra- 
verse Italy,  for  instance — from  one  end  to 
the  other  of  it,  the  heart  sickens  every- 
where at  the  work  and  triumph  of  the  great 
deceiver.  There  indeed  does  he  appear  in 
what  the  scripture  so  strongly  calls  "all 
deceivableness  of  unrighteousness;"  giving 
men  under  the  holy  name  of  Christianity — 
what  ?  something  .so  childish,  .so  degrading, 
and  at  the  same  time  .so  heathenish,  mis- 
chievous, and  polluting,  that  were  not  the 
fact  before  us,  we  should  say  no  civilized 
nation  on  the  face  of  the  earth  could  in  any 


way  be  brought  to  receive  or  tolerate  it. 
It  seems  indeed  as  though  Satan  exulted 
there  in  his  power  to  deceive,  and  was  de- 
termined  to  show  there  how  far  he  can  car- 
ry it.  "  Your  Bible  calls  me,"  he  seems 
to  say,  "the  ruler  of  the  darkness  of  this 
world.  I  am  so,  and  here  is  my  throne." 
O  brethren,  if  we  Englishmen  had  no  other 
national  mercy  to  thank  God  for,  we  have 
this  to  thank  him  for,  and  we  could  scarcely 
have  a  greater,  that  as  yet  we  are  a  protest- 
ant  people.  O  let  us  all  pray  with  one 
heart  and  soul,  that  we  may  ever  be  kept 
such  ! 

Another  work  of  Satan  is  ihe  ohscurity  he 
has  thrown  here  over  Jehovali's  glory.  He 
seems  to  have  baflled  God  in  all  his  pur- 
poses and  intentions  as  to  our  world ;  to 
have  brought  to  nothing  all  the  designs  of 
his  goodness  towards  it  when  he  created  it. 
Those  abundant  outpourings  of  his  love 
which  were  descending  here,  Satan  has 
stopped  in  their  way  to  us.  "I  will  form 
there  a  garden  of  delights,"  the  Lord  seems 
to  have  said,  "  where  I  and  my  creature 
man  will  walk  together  in  mutual  fellow- 
ship and  joy."  "I  have  broken  down  its 
hedges,"  says  Satan.  "  The  garden  is 
gone.  I  have  made  it  a  wild  desert. 
Thorns  and  briers  are  in  it.  Man  shall 
tear  himself  and  bleed  as  he  walks  therein, 
and  as  for  God,  he  shall  come  there  no 
more." 

And  one  thing  more  must  be  added — 
death.  This  crowns  the  work  of  Satan.  It 
appears  to  complete  his  triumph  among  us, 
leaving  him,  as  far  as  we  are  concerned, 
nothing  more  to  do  or  to  desire. 

These  then  are  the  works  of  the  devil. 
Some  of  them  are  not  always  called  his 
works.  They  are  sometimes  said  to  be 
"  works  of  darkness,"  for  they  are  conge- 
nial with  darkness  and  are  often  done  in  it ; 
and  sometimes  "the  works  of  the  flesh," 
because  our  flesh  or  corrupt  nature  isof  it- 
self inclined  to  them  and  loves  them.  And 
then  at  other  times  they  are  spoken  of  as 
our  works,  because  we  are  parties  consent- 
ing to  them,  instruments  in  carrying  them 
on.  But  here  the  Holy  Spirit  looks  on 
these  works  in  their  origin.  The  devil 
is  the  planner  and  instigator  of  them 
all.  God  sees  him  in  them  all ;  and  pass- 
ing by  us,  and  our  evil  nature,  and  the 
darkness  that  covers  them,  he  lets  him 
know  that  he  sees  him.  He  fixes  them 
on  their  author.     "  They  are  the  devii'i 


68 


CHRIST  A  DESTROYER. 


works,"  he  says,  "  and  as  such  I  will  deal 
with  them." 

II.  Let  us  go  on  then  to  consider  the 
manifestation  of  the  Son  of  God  to  destroy 
them. 

If  these  works  are  ever  to  be  destroyed, 
there  was  a  necessity  for  a  divine  interpo- 
sition. None  but  God  could  destroy  these 
works.  We  cannot  perhaps  account  for  it, 
but  it  seems  as  though  every  created  being 
were  far  more  powerful  to  do  evil  than 
good.  Satan  then,  working  with  all  his 
mighty  strength,  has  wrought  more  evil  in 
the  universe,  than  any  other  creature  in  it, 
or  all  other  creatures  in  it,  can  undo.  The 
Lord  himself  therefore  comes  forth,  in  the 
person  of  his  everlasting  Son,  to  beat  down 
and  destroy.  And  he  did  this  not  secretly, 
in  his  unseen  spiritual  nature,  but  openly, 
visibly  ;  "  The  Son  of  God  was  manifested 
that  he  might  destroy  the  works  of  the 
devil."  He  existed  before,  but  it  was  "in 
light  that  no  one  could  approach  unto  ;"  no 
one  saw  him  :  he  comes  forth  now  out  of 
that  unapproachable  light,  reveals  himself, 
takes  on  him  a  form  in  which  he  can  be 
seen  ;  and  there  lie  is  manifested  in  our 
world,  gazed  on  at  Bethlehem  by  angels 
and  by  men. 

And  just  notice,  brethren,  how  a  single 
word  like  this  sometimes  establishes  in  a 
moment  our  Lord's  divinity.  He  must 
have  existed  before,  or  he  could  not  be  said 
to  have  been  manifested  on  the  earth — 
there  is  an  answer  for  the  man  who  says 
that  he  never  lived  till  he  lived  at  Bethle- 
hem. And  he  existed  before  as  God,  for 
here  is  the  very  phrase  applied  to  him,  that 
is  applied  elsewhere  to  God  himself  and  in 
the  same  sense.  "  God  was  manifest  in 
the  flesh,"  says  the  Spirit  by  St.  Paul  ; 
"  The  Son  of  God  was  manifested,"  says 
the  same  Spirit  here  by  St.  John — there  is 
an  answer  for  another  man  who  says  that 
the  Lord  Jesus,  though  he  might  have  ex- 
isted before,  existed  only  as  a  lofty  angel. 

And  this  manifestation  attaches  great 
importance  to  the  destruction  of  Satan  and 
his  works.  The  same  Son  of  God  built  the 
earth  and  the  heavens,  but  he  never  moved 
from  his  place  as  ho  built  them.  He  did 
not  show  himself.  "  He  spake,  and  it  was 
done  ;  he  commanded,  and  it  stood  fast." 
But,  now,  when  this  work  of  destruction  is 
to  be  performed,  he  does  leave  his  place ; 
he  comes  forth  into  sight,  as  though  he 
were  going  to  perform  a  work  of  greater 


magnitude,  or  else  a  work  he  deems  mora 
honorable  and  which  he  wishes  to  be  seen 
performing. 

Its  importance  may  be  inferred  also  from 
another  circumstance — this  destruction  is 
mentioned  here  as  the  great  end  of  our 
Lord's  coming,  and  emphatically  so  men- 
tioned ;  "  For  this  purpose  the  Son  of  God 
was  manifested,  that  he  might  destroy  the 
works  of  the  devil."  In  the  fifth  verse,  the 
apostle  says,  "  he  was  manifested  to  take 
away  our  sins  ;"  in  the  next  chapter,  he 
tells  us  that  the  Father  sent  him  "  that  we 
might  live  through  him  ;"  and  again,  that 
"  the  Father  sent  the  Son  to  be  the  Saviour 
of  the  world."  Here  he  says  he  was  sent 
"  that  he  might  destroy  the  works  of  the 
devil  ;"  and  not  this  as  some  trifling,  inci- 
dental thing  that  he  might  accomplish  while 
accomplishing  the  other — this  is  said  to  be 
the  one  primary,  main  end  of  his  coming. 
And  what  does  this  teach  us  ?  It  teaches 
us  that  there  is  no  remission  of  sins  for  us, 
no  life  through  Christ  for  us,  no  salvation 
for  a  guilty  Avorld  or  any  one  in  it,  unless 
the  works  of  the  devil  are  destroyed.  One 
of  these  ends  of  Christ's  appearing  is  as  im- 
portant as  the  other,  is  necessary  in  order 
to  the  other.  Even  the  omnipotent  Son  of 
God  cannot  be  a  Saviour  unless  he  is  at  the 
same  time  a  Destroyer.  The  works  of  Sa- 
tan must  be  demolished,  or  God's  great 
work  of  mercy,  the  work  on  which  from 
eternity  he  has  set  his  heart,  the  salvation 
of  his  church,  cannot  be  accomplished. 

III.  We  come  now  to  the  destruction  of 
these  works. 

Here  is  much  to  surprise  us.  The  Lord 
Jesus  effects  their  destruction  in  a  charac- 
ter and  by  means  altogether  wonderful. 

He  eflects  it  in  a  wonderful  character. 
Had  we  been  told  that  the  Son  of  the  High- 
est was  about  to  manifest  himself  in  our 
world  as  a  Destroyer,  we  should  have  ex- 
pected  him  to  appear  among  us  in  his  glo- 
rious majesty,  withering  Satan,  as  he  will 
do  hereafter,  by  "  the  brightness  of  his  com- 
ing," and  at  once  sweeping  him  and  his 
works  away  from  the  earth.  But  the  Lord 
is  wiser  than  we.  This  would  have  been 
a  display  of  the  divine  power  only.  It 
would  have  been  like  the  act  of  some  mighty 
king  whom  enemies  are  insulting,  and  who 
having  no  other  means  of  restraining  them, 
is  obliged  to  arouse  liimself  and  put  forth 
his  strength  in  order  to  subdue  them.  The 
Lord  would  not  thus  honor  Satan.    He  lays 


CHRIST  A  DESTROYER. 


69 


aside  his  majesty  when  he  comes  forth  to 
this  work  of  destruction.  He  achieves  it, 
not  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength,  but  di- 
vested in  appearance  of  all  his  strength,  in 
seeming  weakness,  in  our  ruined  nature, 
as  a  feeble  man.  Satan  and  his  works 
shall  be  overthrown  by  one  of  those  very 
creatures  wliom  Satan  has  long  triumphed 
Qver,  and  is  proudly  trampling  under  his 
vile  feet. 

And  if  the  character  was  wonderful  in 
which  our  Lord  achieved  this  work,  the 
means  whereby  he  achieved  it,  were  still 
more  so.  "  Through  death,"  we  are  told, 
"  he  destroyed  him  that  had  the  power  of 
death,  that  is,  the  devil."  Here  is  mystery 
indeed.  In  part  however  this  mystery  is 
unfolded,  and  enough  unfolded  to  make  us 
admire  the  riches  of  wisdom  and  glory  it 
contains.  To  understand  it,  we  must  re- 
member that  sin  is  Satan's  great  work.  It 
is  like  a  wide  and  deep  foundation  on  which 
all  his  other  works  rest.  Now  Christ,  by 
dying  as  a  propitiation  for  sin,  removes  this 
foundation,  takes  it  away,  and  the  works 
whicii  Satan  had  raised  on  it,  are  in  conse- 
quence loosened,  as  the  original  word  in  the 
text  imports  ;  they  totter  to  their  fall.  Not 
that  his  death  drives  sin  at  once  out  of  the 
world.  It  does  not  at  once  repair  all  the 
mischief  the  devil  has  wrought  here,  nor 
eve  .  prevent  him  from  going  on  to  work 
more  ;  but  by  satisfying  the  violated  law 
and  justice  of  Jehovah,  it  opens  a  way  by 
which,  consistently  with  his  glorious  per- 
fections, he  is  at  liberty  to  pardon  sin,  and 
having  pardoned  it,  to  deliver,  sanctify,  and 
bless,  the  sinner.  And  it  is  not  enough  to 
say  it  enables  Jehovah  to  do  this  in  perfect 
harmony  with  his  glorious  character,  he 
displays  the  glory  of  his  character  as  he 
does  it,  and  more  of  the  glory  of  it  than  he 
had  ever  unveiled  before,  so  that  he  not 
only  clears  off  from  his  moral  government 
the  seeming  stain  and  dishonor  winch  Sa- 
tan had  cast  on  it,  he  invests  it  with  a  bright- 
er honor  and  a  holier  grandeur.  The  great 
King  of  heaven  and  earth  shines  forth  in  a 
more  glorious  majesty  by  the  destruction 
of  Satan  and  his  works  througli  the 
manifestation  of  his  Son,  than  lie  would 
ever  have  appeared  in,  had  Satan  never 
wrought. 

It  is  easy  to  follow  this  on.  Sin  taken 
away,  and  the  glory  of  God  vindicated  by 
the  incarnation  and  death  of  Christ,  the 
riches  of  the  divine  goodness  can  now  be 


poured  out  freely  and  abundan  ly  on  our 
guilty  world.  All  the  fulness  of  the  God- 
head  is  placed  in  Christ's  hands  for  our  sal- 
vation and  happiness,  and  consequently  for 
the  overthrow  of  Satan's  power  and  doings 
among  us.  The  Lord  Jesus  can  now  do 
whatsoever  he  will.  Fie  is  seated  on  the 
throne  of  the  eternal  Majesty,  and  just  as 
far  as  his  wisdom  dictates,  he  can  control 
Satan,  he  is  controlling  him,  destroying  his 
works,  and  liberating  his  captives  from  his 
power.  Moral  evil,  sin  ;  natural  evil,  suf- 
fering ;  discord  ;  death — he  is  ai)le  to  de- 
stroy them  all.  And  as  for  the  deceptions 
and  delusions  of  Satan,  they  are  no  more 
to  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  no  more  to  the  power 
of  Christ's  gospel  and  truth  in  that  Sj)irit's 
hands,  than  the  shades  of  night  are  to  the 
rising  sun. 

This  work  of  destruction  is  begun.  The 
process  is  now  going  on.  We  may  ask 
why  it  goes  on  so  slowly,  why  it  has  not 
long  ago  been  complete,  why  Satan  is  al- 
lowed still  to  work,  and  to  work  so  exten- 
sively and  fearfully  ?  we  may  ask  these 
questions  and  others  like  them  till  our  minds 
ache,  but  we  cannot  answer  them.  And 
the  humble  Christian  is  not  anxious  to  an- 
swer them.  He  can  trust  his  God  to  bring 
about  his  own  purposes  in  his  own  time  and 
way.  Ilis  anxiety,  with  a  text  like  this 
before  him,  takes  another  direction.  "  I 
want,"  he  says,  "  to  have  all  the  works  of 
the  devil  destroyed  in  my  own  soul."  It 
is  not  simply  in  the  world,  brethren,  it  is  in 
our  hearts  and  in  our  houses,  tiiat  these 
works  are  carried  on.  God  calls  our  sins 
by  this  name.  He  could  not  call  them  by 
a  worse.  And  that  is  the  reason  why  many 
of  us  do  not  like  to  have  them  called  by 
this  name.  Its  sound  is  offensive  to  us. 
We  would  be  thought  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  devil,  and  he  nothing  to  do  with 
us.  But  it  is  a  solemn  fact,  and  a  fact  as 
clearly  stated  in  holy  scripture  as  words 
can  state  it,  that  while  we  are  living  in  sin, 
we  are  living  under  Satan's  influence,  are 
acted  on  and  governed  iiy  him,  and  are  do- 
ing, as  really  as  though  we  had  formed  a 
compact  with  him,  his  will  and  works. 
Look  at  the  verse  before  us.  "  He  that 
committeth  sin,"  says  John,  the  mild  allee- 
tionate  John,  not  this  or  that  harsh  preacher, 
"  he  that  committeth  sin,  is  of  the  devil  ;" 
and  how  of  the  devil  ?  as  a  servant  is  if  ids 
master  ?  no ;  worso — look  at  the  tenth 
verse — as  a  child  is  of  a  father  ;   not  only 


70 


THE  ANGELS  REJOICING  AT  THE  CREATION  OF  THE  \V  ORLD. 


obeying  his  orders,   but   partaking  of  his 
spirit  and  nature. 

O  what  a  dark  character,  brethren,  is 
thus  put,  1  will  not  say  upon  us,  but  upon 
some  of  our  practices  ?  We  call  them  per- 
haps frailties  of  the  flesh,  infirmities  of  our 
nature,  slips  and  errors  into  which  we  are 
unavoidably  led  by  our  physical  and  moral 
constitution  and  tiie  situations  in  which  we 
are  placed  ;  but  God  says  to  us  in  this  text, 
"  Dare  not  to  talk  thus.  I  see  the  hand  of 
the  vilest  of  all  vile  beings  in  every  sin  you 
commit ;  and  in  pity  to  you,  I  want  you 
also  to  see  it.  Your  sins  are  loathsome  and 
detestable  to  me,  and  to  get  you  to  loathe 
and  detest  them,  I  tell  you  whence  they 
come  ;  I  put  this  term  of  abomination  on 
them,  they  are  the  works  of  the  devil.  I 
want  you  to  judge  of  sin,  as  I  judge  of  it ; 
to  see  the  great  enemy  of  your  souls  in  it, 
as  I  see  him.  I  want  you  to  be  holy,  and 
happy,  and  free  :  and  that  you  may  be  so, 
[  tell  you  and  tell  you  again,  that  you  are 
now  in  a  most  unholy,  miserable  bondage  ; 
that  you  are  doing,  and  doing  without  know- 
ing it,  the  very  works  1  clothed  my  Son  in 
mortal  flesh  to  destroy."  He  must  destroy 
our  sins,  brethren.  It  is  his  office  and  com- 
mission in  some  way  to  destroy  them.  If 
you  will  not  let  them  go  from  you,  he  will 
in  the  end  destroy  you  with  them.  You 
are  like  men  cleaving  to  a  doomed  ship  ;  it 
is  going  down,  and  unless  you  let  go  your 
hold,  you  will  go  down  with  it.  Or  rather 
you  are  like  men  wearing  garments  that 
are  to  be  consumed  ;  tear  them  off,  or  you 
will  be  consumed  with  them. 

But  there  are  some  among  us,  who  have 
long  ago  been  taught  all  this  ;  menv'n  whom 
tills  work  of  destruction  has  long  since  been 
begun.  It  is  easy  perhaps  to  tell  what 
some  of  your  feelings  are  as  you  read  this 
text — fresh  feelings  of  loathing  at  the  re- 
membrance of  your  past  sins,  and,  it  may  be, 
at  the  consciousness  of  your  present  corrup- 
tions ;  fresh  humiliation  before  God  on  ac- 
count of  them ;  new  resolutions  to  look 
more  to  Christ,  the  great  Destroyer,  for  a 
complete  freedom  from  them.  And  there 
is  another  feeling  that  ought  to  have  a  place 
ill  you — a  feeling  of  praise  and  thanksgiv- 
ing to  your  incarnate  Lord.  Is  the  de- 
struction of  sin  within  you  identified  in 
your  minds  with  the  salvation  and  liap]M- 
ness  of  your  souls  ?  If  you  are  Christian 
men,  it  really  is  so.  Then  glorify  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  as  the  great  Destroyer.     Re- 


pose in  him  as  the  great  Destroyer.  Let 
your  own  hated  sins  grieve  you  if  they  will  ; 
they  ought  to  grieve  you  ;  but  let  them  not 
affright  you.  Let  the  abominations  that 
are  in  the  world,  pain  but  not  shake  you. 
Look  again  at  the  language  of  this  text  ; 
"  For  this  purpose  the  Son  of  God  was 
manifested,  that  he  might  destroy  the  works 
of  the  devil."  Did  he  really  purpose  tliis  ? 
Has  he  really  come  into  our  world  and 
shown  himself  here  to  accomplish  this  ? 
entered  on  this  work,  and  let  men  and 
angels  see  that  he  has  entered  on  it  ?  Then 
it  will  be  accomplished.  He  who  has  be- 
gun, will  finish  it.  Wait  a  few  more  short 
years — there  will  not  be  a  fragment  or 
trace  of  Satan's  works  left  within  you. 
And  wait  a  few  centuries — there  will  not 
be  a  trace  of  Satan  left  in  the  wide  universe, 
except  in  his  own  wretched  hell.  The 
mighty  Destroyer's  work  shall  be  complete, 
and  we  and  his  wondering  church  shall 
adore  him  for  its  completei>ess,  shall  be 
rejoicing  before  him  in  its  perfection  and 
glory. 


SERMON  XV. 

SEPTUAGESIMA    SUNDAY. 

THE  ANGELS  REJOICING  AT  THE  CREA- 
TION OF  THE  WORLD. 

Job  XXXVIII.  7. — "  The  morning  stays  sang  tngeth- 
er,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy." 

Here  is  something  that  took  place  when 
our  world  was  created,  but  not  in  our  world. 
Heaven  was  the  scene  of  it ;  and  it  is  told 
us  in  order  to  carry  up  our  thoughts  to 
heaven,  and  make  us  better  acquainted 
with  it. 

There  are  three  points  in  the  text  to  be 
attended  to — first,  those  of  wiiom  it  speaks  ; 
then,  what  they  are  said  to  have  done  ; 
and  then,  the  occasion  of  their  doing  it. 

I.  We  must  look  at  those  spoken  of  in  it. 

They  are  called  "  the  morning  stars" 
and  "the  sons  of  God;"  and  there  is  no 
doubt  but  that  the  same  beings  are  meant 
by  both  these  expressions.  The  morn. no- 
stars  are  not  literally  any  of  the  siiinins 
orbs  that  adorn  the  firmament,  but  those 
who  are  immediately  afterwards  designa- 
ted "  the   sons  of  God."     And   these,  wa 


THE  ANGELS  REJOICING  AT  THE  CREATION  OF  THE  WORLD. 


71 


conclude,  must  be  the  angels,  for  we  know 
of  no  other  creatures  in  existence  at  this 
time.  We  must  ask  then  why  these  heav- 
enly beings  are  called  by  the  two  names 
here  applied  to  them. 

Witli  a  star  we  connect  the  iileas  of 
brightness  and  beauty  ;  and  with  a  mnrning 
star,  peculiar  brightness  and  peculiar  beau- 
ty. When  therefore  any  one  is  said  to  be 
a  star,  we  understand  at  once  that  he  shines 
out  above  others,  that  there  is  something 
excellent  and  eminent  in  him  ;  and  that  if 
he  were  called  a  morning  star,  we  should 
understand  that  this  eminence  above  others 
is  visible  and  great.  "  I  am  the  bright  and 
morning  star,"  says  our  Lord  of  himself, 
and  he  means,  we  say  immediately,  that 
he  is  transcendently  fair  and  glorious. 
And  so  here.  "  My  angels,"  God  says  to 
us,  "  are  morning  stars.  There  is  nothing 
in  your  world  bright  enough  for  me  to  com- 
pare them  with.  Look  upward.  Behold 
those  worlds  of  light,  that  are  glittering  far 
above  you.  My  angels  are  like  them  ;  and 
like  th'e  brightest  of  them,  that  beautiful 
morning  star." 

What  a  glorious  world  then  must  heaven 
be  !  It  is  inhabited  by  creatures  that  not 
oidy  receive  light  from  it,  but  reflect  that 
light  around  them  wherever  they  go.  Well 
may  it  be  called  "  the  inheritance  of  the 
saints  in  light."  It  is  a  world  of  stars  and 
suns,  and  millions  of  them,  and  each  one  of 
them  brighter  than  earthly  eye  can  bear  to 
gaze  on.  Think  of  John.  Twice  over  in 
his  mysterious  vision  he  saw  one  of  these 
splcndiil  beings,  and  fell  down,  he  says,  to 
worship  liim.  So  glorious  was  he,  that  he 
felt  as  though  he  saw  his  God. 

And  then  the  angels  are  called  also  the 
sons  of  God.  They  are  not  his  sons  as 
the  everlasting  Saviour  is.  They  are  call- 
ed his  sons  by  mere  grace  and  favor.  The 
Lord,  having  first  given  life  to  them,  and 
then  loving  tliem  as  his  children  and  treat- 
ing them  as  his  children,  says  of  them  at 
last,  "They  are  my  children,  my  sons." 
The  name  shows  the  abundance  of  his  love 
towards  them,  and  the  greatness  of  his  con- 
descension in  his  intercourse  with  tliem. 
It  gives  us  also  an  idea  of  heaven  as  of  a 
place  of  holy  affection  and  endearment.  It 
represents  the  great  God  as  manifesting  the 
tenderness  of  his  love  there.  He  is  a  father 
in  heaven,  it  says,  with  a  father's  feelings, 
and  speaking  a  father's  language.  Heaven 
is  his  family,  and  all  that  are  in  it,  are  in 


it  as  his  children.  And  exactly  thus  our 
Lord  describes  it.  He  speaks  of  it  as  a 
cliild  would  speak  of  his  paternal  home. 
"  It  is  my  Father's  house,"  he  says.  And 
St.  Paultoo  had  the  same  idea  of  it.  He 
tells  us  of  "  tlie  wliole  family  in  heaven." 

We  may  say  then  here,  what  a  happy, 
as  well  as  glorious  world  is  heaven  !  Its 
brightness  will  not  confound  us,  no,  not  the 
brightness  of  him  who  is  the  great  light  and 
glo"y  of  it.  We  shall  feel  at  home  in  it, 
for  at  last  we  shall  really  be  at  home. 
"  Now  are  we  the  sons  of  God,"  but  now 
we  are  sons  far  away  from  our  father's 
house,  strangers  in  a  strange  land,  often 
doubtful  whether  we  belong  to  God  or  not  : 
in  heaven  we  shall  be  where  our  Father 
is  ;  we  shall  sec  him,  and  dwell  with  him, 
and  be  acknowledged  by  him  as  his. 
"  They  shall  be  mine,  saith  the  Lord  of 
hosts,  in  that  day  when  I  make  up  my 
jewels ;  and  I  will  spare  them  as  a  man 
spareth  his  own  son  that  serveth  him." 

II.  Let  us  come  now  to  what  these  angels 
are  said  to  have  done.  They  "  sang  ; "  they 
all    "sang  together;"  they  "shouted    for 

joy." 

They  sang.  Now  singing,  when  natural, 
is  the  language  always  of  feeling,  and  gen- 
erally of  "happy  feeling.  In  this  case  it 
certainly  is  so.  It  intimates  that  these 
angels  were  happy,  and  very  happy  ;  and 
moi-e — that  in  heaven  happiness  is  express- 
ed as  well  as  felt.  It  is  an  humble  world, 
the  humblest  in  the  universe  ;  reverence 
and  godly  fear  reign  everywhere  in  it  and 
every  moment ;  but  it  is  not  an  awe-struck 
world.  They  who  feel  in  it,  give  utterance 
to  tlieir  feelings.  Their  joy  comes  out. 
They  indulge  and  express  it,  and  know  that 
they  may  do  so.  The  Lord  is  well  pleased 
with  their  joy.  There  is  liberty  in  heaven, 
glorious  liberty,  the  liberty  of  "the  children 
of  God. 

They  sa7\g  together.  Here  comes  in  the 
idea  of  union  and  harmony,  a  oneness  of 
feeling  and  joy  among  these  morning  stars. 
Every  one  of  them  sang,  and  sang  at  the 
same  time,  and  for  the  same  reason,  and 
the  same  song.  There  was  one  heart  only 
in  heaven,  and  one  voice. 

And  we  may  trace  this  same  thing  in 
other  parts  of  scripture.  An  angel  comes 
down  rejoicing  to  the  shepherds  at  Bethle- 
hem, "  Behold,"  he  says,  "  I  bring  you 
good  tidings  of  great  joy,  for  unto  you  is 
bom  this  day  a  Saviour  ;"  and  what  foU 


72 


THE  ANGELS  REJOICING  AT  THE  CREATION  OF  THE  WORLD. 


lows  1  He  is  immediately  joined  by  the 
vvliole  army  of  lieaven  ;  "  Suddenly  there 
was  with  the  angel  a  multitude  of  the  heav- 
enly host,  praising  God."  And  again  in 
Rev.  xix.  "  I  heard,"  says  the  apostle, 
'  the  voice  of  much  people  in  heaven,  say- 
■ng,  Alleluia  ;"  and  then  others  are  de- 
scribed as  taking  up  the  song,  and  crying, 
'■'  Alleluia;"  and  at  last  conies  in  the  full 
chorus  of  heaven ;  all  there  both  small 
and  great  are  uniting  in  this  one  strain, 
'  Alleluia,  for  the  Lord  God  omnipotent 
reigneth." 

And  God  loves  this  oneness  of  feeling. 
He  loves  it  in  heaven,  and  he  loves  it  on 
earth.  It  is  one  among  the  many  blessings 
:ie  promises  his  people ;  "  I  will  give  them 
one  heart  and  one  way."  He  puts  honor 
on  it  when  his  people  pray.  "  If  two  of 
you,"  says  Christ,  "shall  agree  on  earth 
as  touching  any  thing  that  they  shall  ask, 
it  shall  be  done  for  them  of  my  Father." 
And  he  delights  in  it  when  his  people  praise. 
Hence  Paul  prays  for  his  Roman  converts, 
that  they  may  "  with  one  mind  and  one 
mouth  glorify  God." 

Do  I  then,  let  each  one  of  us  ask,  possess 
this  fellowship,  this  sympathy  with  the  peo- 
ple of  God  ?  Does  the  voice  of  praise  from 
others  find  its  way  to  my  heart  ?  Do  I  love 
to  hear  it  ?  Does  it  generally  warm  my 
heart  ?  If  I  were  now  in  heaven,  do  I  feel 
that  I  must  break  out  into  the  song  of  heav- 
en ?  that  if  I  heard  angels  singing  there,  I 
must  sing  too  ?  that  I  could  not  be  silent 
there,  if  I  would  ?  If  it  is  thus  with  me, 
then  let  me  bless  my  God  that  I  have  at 
least  one  mark  on  me  of  those  that  are  his. 
But  if  it  is  not  thus  with  me  ;  if  while 
others  praise,  I  am  silent  and  am  content 
to  be  so  ;  if  neither  my  tongue  nor  my 
heart  moves  ;  what  must  I  thitdv  then  1  I 
nnjst  think  this,  that  I  must  be  an  altered 
man  before  I  can  be  meet  for  a  world  of 
praise. 

Hitherto  we  have  seen  two  things  in  the 
joy  of  these  angels.  It  is  a  lively  joy,  for 
tluiV  sing  ;  it  is  a  social,  wide-spread  joy, 
{()r  they  all  sing  together.  And  now  comes 
something  else — it  is  an  overflowing  joy  ; 
they  caimot  restrain  it ;  the  song  becomes 
a  shout  and  a  universal  one — 

All  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy.  A  nd 
this  expression  not  only  gives  us  a  deligiit- 
ful  idea  of  the  happiness  of  heaven  ;  if  we 
think  of  it  a  little,  we  shall  see  that  it  in- 
vests it  with  a  sublimity  and  majesty.   When 


the  prophet  Isaiah  wishes  to  describe  the 
joy  of  the  church  at  the  advent  of  the 
Messiah,  he  compares  it  to  the  joy  of  hus- 
bandmen at  the  end  of  an  abundant  har- 
vest, or  the  rejoicing  of  an  army  in  the 
triumph  of  victory  :  "  They  joy  before  thee 
according  to  the  joy  in  harvest,  and  as  men 
rejoice  when  they  divide  the  spoil."  But 
when  the  rejoicing  of  heaven  is  to  be  de- 
scribed in  scripture,  far  loftier  figures  are 
employed,  the  loftiest  that  can  be  found. 
There  is  the  sound  of  the  mighty  ocean 
breaking  on  a  steep  and  rugged  shore.  If 
you  have  heard  that,  brethren,  and  heard 
it  alone,  in  the  stillness  of  solitude  or  of 
night,  you  have  received  from  it  a  deep  im- 
pression of  grandeur.  And  there  is  the 
rolling  of  thunder — who  can  hear  that,  and 
not  feel  that  that  also  has  a  mighty  power 
to  affect  and  elevate  1  We  know  of  no 
sounds  in  nature  so  sublime  as  these  two. 
These  therefore  the  Holy  Spirit  takes,  and 
to  them  he  compares  the  praise  of  heaven. 
Twice  over  in  the  Revelation  of  St.  John, 
he  says  it  is  as  the  "  voice  of  many  waters, 
and  as  the  voice  of  mighty  thunderings." 
And  what  makes  this  song  so  loud  and  no- 
ble ?  It  is  the  song  of  so  many  happy  be- 
ings, and  then*  happiness  is  so  great  and 
unrestrained.  Countless  thousands  are  sing- 
ing it,  and  among  them  all,  there  is  not  one 
who  is  not  impelled  by  unutterable  blessed- 
ness to  sing  it.  It  is  the  outpouring  of  a  hap- 
piness that  is  more  than  full ;  it  is  the  over- 
fiowing  of  an  ocean  of  joy.  "  I  heard," 
says  the  wondering  John,  "  the  voice  of 
many  angels  round  about  the  throne,  and 
the  number  of  them  was  ten  thousand  times 
ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of  thousands, 
saying  with  a  loud  voice,  W^orlhy  is  the 
Lamb  that  was  slain  to  receive  power,  and 
riches,  and  wisdom,  and  strength,  and  honor, 
and  glory,  and  blessing." 

III.  And  now  for  our  third  point — the  oc- 
casion of  all  this  rejoicing  in  heaven  at  this 
time. 

We  see,  by  examining  the  c]i;i[)tor.  thai 
it  was  called  forth  by  the  creation  of  our 
world.  The  Lord  speaks  out  of  a  whirl- 
wind to  Job,  and  in  order  to  make  Job  feel 
his  nothingness  in  comparison  with  him,  he 
asks  him  where  he  was  when  he  laid  the 
foundations  of  the  earth.  Then  follows  a 
description  of  the  earth's  creation,  and  tha; 
of  a  particular  character — the  liord  spraks 
of  it  as  a  building,  and  of  himself  as  its 
mighty  architect.     We  read  of  his  laying 


THE  ANGELS  REJOICING  AT  THE  CREATION  OF  THE  WORLD. 


73 


the  measures  of  it,  stretching  the  line  on  it, 
fasteninnr  the  foundations,  and  laying  the 
corner-stone. 

Now  it  was  usual  among  eastern  nations, 
as  it  is  indeed  among  us,  to  have  a  kind  of 
rejoicing  at  the  commencement,  and  also  at 
the  completion,  of  any  large  building.  Tiius 
we  are  told  in  the  book  of  Ezra,  that  when 
the  second  temple  at  Jerusalem  was  begun 
after  the  captivity,  there  were  songs  among 
the  assembled  people  and  holy  rojoiciiigs  ; 
and  you  remember  what  Zechariah  said 
should  take  place  at  tlie  completion  of  it ; 
"  They  sliall  bring  forth  the  head-stone 
thereof  with  shoutings,"  that  is,  with  accla- 
mations of  praise  and  joy.  And  thus  God, 
the  great  Builtler  of  the  earth,  says,  •'  There 
was  a  glorious  triumph  here  in  heaven  when 
I  built  your  world.  My  angels  were  look- 
ing on  and  praising.  The  morning  stars 
sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shout- 
ed for  joy."  Our  object  now  then  must  be, 
to  discover  why  the  creation  of  our  world 
occasioned  so  much  joy  in  the  heaven  above 
us.  And  to  this  end,  we  must  suppose  our- 
selves suddenly  brought  before  a  noble  build- 
ing from  which  the  scaffolding  has  just  been 
cleared  away.  Our  first  sensations  of  plea- 
sure in  a  situation  like  this,  would  have  their 
origin  perhaps  in  the  mere  beauty  and  mag- 
nificence of  the  structure.  And  so  doubt- 
less it  was  in  this  case. 

1.  The  joy  of  these  angels  was  a  joy  of 
admiration.  They  sang  together,  because 
they  were  struck  together  with  the  beauty 
of  our  world. 

It  is  a  beautiful  world.  We  cannot  look 
on  some  of  its  scenes  without  feeling  it  to 
be  such.  But  then  we  must  remember  that 
we  see  it  in  a  marred  and  disfigured  state, 
and  we  .see  only  a  small  part  of  it  at  one 
time,  and  of  that  small  part  w^  see  very 
little  ;  at  least,  we  see  it  very  superficially 
and  imperfectly;  ten  thousand  beauties 
lie  hidilon  in  it  from  our  view.  But  these 
angels  liad  our  world  in  all  its  first  freshness 
and  glory  before  them,  ere  sin  had  blighted 
it,  or  man  tarnished  it,  or  insulted  justice 
devastated  it;  when  God  himself  delighted 
in  it  and  pronounced  it  good.  Tliey  saw  it 
probably  all  at  once,  or  a  large  portion  of 
it  at  once,  and  with  their  powerful  vision, 
thoy  penetrated  at  once  into  all  its  glories. 
And  no  wonder  that  songs  were  heard  among 
them.  The  sight  of  so  much  beauty  burst- 
ing  suddenly  on  them,  must  have  filled  them 
to  the  full  with  joy  and  wonder. 
10 


But  suppose  yourselves  interested  in  the 
architect  of  the  building  we  are  imagining. 
After  a  little,  you  would  feel  pleasure  in. 
looking  at  it  on  another  account — you  would 
connect  it  witli  your  Iricnd  who  built  it; 
you  would  see  in  it  traces  of  his  skill,  and 
be  delighted  to  see  them  ;  and  you  would 
think  also  with  pleasure  of  the  honor  it  would 
bring  to  him.     So  again  here. 

2.  The  song  of  these  morning  stars  was 
a  song  of  praise.  The  creation  of  our  world 
filled  them  with  joy,  because  our  world 
discovered  to  them  in  every  part  of  it  the 
perfections  of  their  God.  You  may  say, 
"  They  had  seen  these  perfections  mani- 
fested "before  in  their  own  glorious  heaven, 
in  myriads  perhaps  of  other  worlds."  I 
answer.  Yes,  but  every  fresh  putting  forth 
of  the  divine  power  has  doubtless  in  it  some 
new  exhibition  and  laying  open  of  the  divine 
glory.  Our  world  probably  unfolded  this 
glory  to  the  angels  in  a  manner  that  was 
new  to  them  and  surprising.  It  made  them 
better  acquainted  with  Jehovah's  charactf^-r ; 
or  if  not  so,  it  produced  a  new  impression 
in  their  minds  of  the  glory  of  that  charac- 
ter, and  thus  led  them  anew  to  adore  and 
praise. 

Conceive  of  the  scene  they  witnessed  at 
this  time,  or  try  to  conceive  of  it.  There 
is  a  blank  in  the  universe.  In  one  moment 
they  behold  our  globe  start  into  being.  God 
speaks,  and  they  see  it  done;  he  commands, 
and  they  behold  it  stand  fast.  Without 
materials,  without  instruments,  without  as- 
sistance, without  efl^ort,  he  creates  in  their 
sight  this  huge  earth  ;  and  that  of  itself 
must  have  thrilled  them.  They  had  prob- 
ably never  seen  an  act  of  creation  before, 
or  any  thing  which  so  manifested  the  divine 
omnipotence.  And  then  as  this  new-created 
world  began  to  assume  form  and  order ;  as 
light  came  pouring  over  it,  and  its  various 
beauties  burst  one  after  another  into  exist- 
ence and  sight ;  as  the  grandeur  of  its  plan 
unfolded  itself,  and  the  benevolence  of  its 
design,  and  the  goodness  and  care  that  were 
everywhere  at  work  in  furnishing  and 
adorning  it ;  as  every  spot  in  it,  and  all 
about  it,  earth,  air,  and  sea,  began  to  be 
peopled,  and  everywhere  with  happy  and 
joyous  creatures — the  hearts  of  the  angels 
must  have  glowed  with  rapture.  "  See 
there,"  they  must  have  said  one  to  another, 
"  what  the  Lord  our  God  has  done.  See 
there  his  power,  and  goodness,  and  great- 
I  ness."     And  then  the  heavens  must  have 


74 


THE  ANGELS  REJOICING  AT  THE  CREATION  OF  THE  WORLD. 


rung  anew  with  their  acclamations  of 
praise. 

To  show  forth  the  glory  of  God  is  the 
creature's  duty,  his  one  great  duty  ;  to  dis- 
cover God's  glory,  to  behold  and  contem- 
plate it,  is  the  creature's  main  happiness  : 
there  is  not  among  men  or  angels  a  higher 
joy.  Do  any  of  you  wonder  that  the  an- 
gels rejoiced  as  they  saw  God  glorifying 
himself  in  the  creation  of  the  world?  One 
little  flower,  a  leaf,  a  blade  of  grass,  can  re- 
joice the  godly  man,  when  he  looks  on  it 
and  says,  "  This  is  the  workmanship  of 
my  God.  I  can  see  in  it  his  power  and 
goodness." 

And  now  we  are  come  to  the  end  of  this 
text ;  and  what  shall  we  say  at  the  end  of 
it  ?  There  is  one  thought  that  must  surely 
pass  through  every  serious  mind — I  have 
been  hearing  of  a  happy  heaven  and  of  re- 
joicing angels ;  shall  I  ever  be  in  that 
heaven  and  rejoice  with  those  angels  ? 
They  are  singing  now.  I  cannot  hear  them 
any  more  than  I  can  hear  the  rolling  of  the 
ocean  far  away  from  me,  but  that  ocean,  I 
know,  is  rolling  on,  and  those  angels  are  real- 
ly singing  ;  shall  I  ever  hear  them  ?  How 
will  it  be  with  me  when  I  die  ?  shall  I  spend 
eternity  where  they  are,  in  joy  and  praise, 
or  far  away  from  them  with  very  different 
angels,  in  wailing  and  misery  ? 

And  this  text  which  suggests  this  inquiry, 
suggests  also  an  answer  to  it.  Does  the 
joy  of  these  angels  seem  to  you  a  reason- 
able and  natural  joy  ?  As  you  have  heard 
of  it  to-day,  have  you  felt  that  had  you 
been  amongst  them  at  this  time,  you  could 
have  sung  with  them  ?  Do  you  delight  in 
the  work  of  adoration  and  praise  ?  Would 
it  be  heaven  to  you  to  be  in  a  world  where 
you  should  see  God,  and  be  every  moment 
contemplaling  his  glory  ?  If  vou  say  you 
scarcely  know  what  these  things  mean,  that 
in  your  present  state,  they  certainly  would 
not  make  you  happy  ;  then,  be  assured, 
tiiat  you  are  not  in  the  way  to  the  heaven 
you  have  been  hearing  of,  that  if  you  were 
to  die  to-day,  or  die  at  any  time  in  your 
present  state,  you  would  not  go  there.  A 
man  who  is  really  journeying  to  that  bless- 
ed world,  God  is  making  meet  for  that 
blessed  world  ;  he  is  giving  him  in  the  vvay 
to  it  a  taste  for  its  employments  and  happi- 
ness. Such  a  man  can  understand  God 
when  he  tells  him  in  his  word  of  heaven's 
joys.  But  you  cannot  understand  him ; 
these  things  are  all  strange  to  you.     And 


does  not  this  say  to  you  plainly  enough, 
you  must  become  new  creatures  before  you 
can  see  God  ?  Does  not  the  Lord  Jesus 
appear  in  it  to  take  up  his  own  words, 
"  Marvel  not  that  I  said,  Ye  must  be  born 
again  ?"  You  have  earthly,  unconvert- 
ed souls,  and  because  unconverted  souls, 
wretched  and  lost  souls.  There  is  no 
heaven  for  you  in  such  a  state  ;  there  is 
not  in  the  wide  universe  such  a  thing  for 
you  as  happiness.  O  pray  then  for  a  new- 
heart  and  a  new  spirit.  You  have  heard 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Implore  his  help. 
You  need  him  for  your  salvation,  as  much 
as  you  need  the  blessed  Jesus  himself. 
You  acknowledge  yourselves  guilty  sin- 
ners, but  this  is  not  the  worst  part  of  your 
condition — you  are  "  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins."  Your  spiritual  life  is  gone.  Re- 
newing grace  is  as  necessary  for  you  as 
atoning  blood  or  pardoning  mercy.  You 
will  perish  forever  without  it.  And  it  is  to 
be  had  as  freely  and  had  as  readily.  Again 
the  Lord  is  set  before  you  as  a  Father,  and 
a  gracious  one.  "  If  ye,"  says  Christ, 
"  being  evil,  know  how  to  give  good  gifts 
unto  your  children  ;  how  much  more  shall 
your  heavenly  Father  give  tlie  Floly  Spirit 
to  them  that  ask  him  ?"  You  may  go  to 
this  heavenly  Father,  and  go  to  him  now, 
this  very  day,  this  very  hour,  and  as  surely 
obtain  from  him  this  life-giving  Spirit,  as  a 
starving  child  might  obtain  from  you  food 
and  bread. 

And  let  the  people  of  God  among  us 
learn  to  think  more  of  their  heavenly  home. 
We  see  here  the  angels  bringing  new  joy 
to  themselves  from  the  contemplation  of 
our  world.  Should  not  we  try  to  bring 
some  joy  into  our  hearts  from  the  contem- 
plation of  their  world  ?  We  know  indeed 
little  about  heaven,  but  one  reason  is,  we 
are  content  to  know  little ;  we  do  not  stretch 
our  minds  to  enter  into  what  the  Iwly  scrip- 
ture tells  us  of  heaven.  Many  glimpses  of 
its  glory  are  to  be  discovered  there  :  let  us 
look  for  them,  as  the  mariner  scans  the 
distant  horizon  for  the  dawning  of  the  morn- 
ing or  for  the  wislied  for  land.  They  will 
reveal  to  us  more  than  we  could  at  first 
believe.  It  is  amazing  what  an  insight  they 
will  sometimes  give  the  soul  into  its  unseen 
home.  They  are  like  a  ray  from  the  mid- 
day sun  penetrating  a  fissure  in  a  dark 
room — the  room  is  still  dark,  but  that  one 
ray  serves  to  show  what  a  bright  sunshine 
there  is  without.     And  yet  a  little,  and  we 


THE  FAITH  OF  NOAH. 


75 


shall  l>e  in  that  sunshine.  The  songs  we 
have  been  reading  of,  tlie  shout  that  burst 
forth  M'hen  the  world  was  framed,  we  shall 
not  hear ;  but  we  shall  hear  more  joyful 
songs  and  louder  shouts,  and  from  these 
very  angels.  O  wliat  a  scene  will  that 
be  when  the  work  of  redemption  shall  be 
finished,  and  the  new  heavens  and  the  new 
earth  shall  come  forth  into  being !  What 
an  amazing  song  will  be  raised  then,  and 
what  a  shout  of  joy  !  May  you  hear  it, 
brethren  !  May  you  join  in  it !  May  all 
the  blessedness  of  the  angels,  yea,  may  the 
joy  of  the  Lord  himself,  be  yours  ! 


SERMON  XVI. 

SEXAGESIMA    SUNDAY. 
THE  FAITH  OF  NOAH. 

Hebrews  .\i.  7. — "  By  faith  Noah,  being  warned 
of  God  of  tilings  not  seen  as  yet,  moved  with 
fear,  prepared  an  ark  to  the  saving  of  his  house." 

Which  of  us  has  not  sometimes  wonder- 
ed at  the  importance  attached  in  holy  scrip- 
ture to  faith  ?  A  thoughtful  perusal  of  this 
chapter  dissipates  all  such  wonder.  It  has 
done  so  much  and  suilered  so  much,  and 
done  and  suffered  it  so  triumphantly,  that 
simple  as  faith  is  in  itself,  we  see  it  to  be, 
like  some  simple  things  in  nature,  an  instru- 
ment of  almost  boundless  power  in  the  hand 
of  an  all-powerful  God. 

It  is  Noah's  faith  to  which  I  would  now 
call  your  attention ;  and  to  bring  this  clearly 
before  us,  let  us  consider,  first,  the  situa- 
tion of  Noah,  at  this  time ;  secondly,  his 
conduct  in  it ;  tiiirdly,  the  principle  from 
which  this  conduct  proceeded — faith  ;  and 
fourthly,  the  feeling  through  which  this 
principle  wrought — fear. 

I.  One  glance  at  his  situation  must  bring 
bef)re  us  our  own. 

Here  is,  fivst,  an  overu'lielming  deslruclion 
thrp.atrncd  to  the  whole  world.  It  was  not  to 
be  confined  to  any  person  or  any  place. 
With  the  exception  of  one  family,  every 
person  everywhere  was  to  be  involved  in  it. 
"  Behold,  I,  even  I,"  says  God,  "  do  bring 
a  flood  of  waters  upon  the  earth  to  destroy 
all  fiesh  wherein  is  the  breath  of  life  from 
under  heaven  ;  and  every  thing  that  is  in 
the  earth   shall  die."     And  wiiere,  breth- 


ren, are  you  and  I  now  standing  ?  We 
almo.st  forget  it,  but  we  are  breathing  tiie 
air  of  a  threatened  world,  yea,  a  condemned 
world.  The  wrath  of  God  is  denounced 
against  it,  and  will  as  surely  consume,  as 
his  power  created  it.  And  it  is  not  simply 
the  huge  mass  of  earth  we  are  living  on, 
tiiat  he  will  consume ;  his  wrath  has  been 
revealed  from  heaven  against  us  ungodly 
and  unrighteous  men,  and  when  our  world 
is  destroyed,  unless  something  is  done  to 
save  us,  we  ourselves  shall  be  destroyed 
with  it ;  the  long  threatened  wrath  will 
come  upon  us,  and  ingulf  us  all  in  one 
wide  and,  what  the  scripture  calls,  "ever- 
lasting destruction." 

It  is  useless  then,  in  this  part  of  our  sub- 
ject,  to  go  into  character,  to  ask  what  sort 
of  men  we  are ;  there  is  a  sentence  gone 
forth  against  the  whole  human  race,  and 
to  know  whether  we  are  included  in  it,  we 
have  only  to  ask  whetiier  we  belong  to  that 
race  ;  in  other  words,  whether  we  are  men. 
The  universality  of  this  condemnation  is 
grounded  on  the  universality  of  the  sin 
which  has  drawn  it  forth.  "  All  have  sin- 
ned ;"  "  the  whole  world  lieth  in  wicked- 
ness ;"  therefore  it  is  that  the  whole  world 
is  condemned,  that  we  are  all  without  ex- 
ception included  in  one  general  sentence  of 
judgment  and  destruction. 

But  further — the  destruction  threatened 
against  the  world  in  Noah's  days,  appeared 
a  very  strange  and  7nost  unlikely  one.  We 
know  that  the  people  who  heard  of  it,  could 
not  be  brought  to  anticij)ate  it.  Our  Lord 
tells  us  tiiat  it  came  upon  them  unawares. 
They  knew  it  not,  he  says,  until  it  came. 
They  might  have  known  it ;  they  had  warn- 
ing enough  of  it ;  but  they  did  not  believe 
the  warning.  The  flood,  when  it  came, 
surprised  them  as  mucli  as  though  they  had 
never  heard  of  it.  And  was  tiiis  wonder- 
ful ?  We  shall  say,  if  we  consider  the 
matter,  not  at  all  so.  "  Where,"  they 
might  reasonably  ask  as  they  pointed  to 
the  lofty  mountain  and  the  wide-spread 
plain,  "  where  are  the  waters  to  come  from, 
which,  we  are  told,  arc  to  overwhelm  these  ? 
Tiiey  are  not  in  existence  :  and  what  if 
they  were  ?  There  is  a  merciful  God  also 
in  existence,  and  he  will  never  visit  this 
fair  world,  a  world  of  his  own  creation, 
with  so  much  misery.  Tlie  thing  is  too 
strange.  Noah  may  predict  it,  but  while 
there  is  a  God  of  love  ruling  in  the  heav- 
ens,  wiiilc  all  things  continue  as  they  were 


7fi 


THE  FAITH  OF  NOAH. 


from  the  beginning  of  the  creation,  we  will 
not  believe  him."  The  conclusion  they 
thus  came  to,  was  a  wrong,  but  it  must 
have  seemed  at  tlie  time  a  right  one.  It 
had  experience,  it  had  reason,  or  a  show  of 
reason,  it  had  general  opinion,  in  ils  favor. 
Men  did  not  expect  destruction,  for  they  saw 
no  ground  to  expect  it. 

And  here  again,  to  a  considerable  extent, 
the  resemblance  holds  good.  Men  now  do 
not  expect  destruction.  There  are  those 
perhaps  among  ourselves,  who  have  fully 
persuaded  themselves  it  will  never  come. 
We  read  of  it  in  our  Bibles  ;  we  are  told 
there  plainly  enough  that  there  is  a  day  of 
wrath  hastening  on,  a  day  in  which  all  the 
workers  of  iniquity  will  be  destroyed,  the 
wicked  in  one  fearful  multitude  be  turned 
into  hell  and  all  the  people  that  forget  God  ; 
but  what  is  the  actual  state  of  our  minds 
with  respect  to  this  ?  It  is  too  strange,  too 
dreadful,  we  think,  to  be  true.  God  may 
threaten  it,  but  unless  in  some  extreme 
cases,  he  is  too  merciful  ever  to  execute  it. 
The  earth  may  be  destroyed,  the  sun  may 
be  darkened,  world  after  world  may  roll 
away  and  disappear,  but  as  for  us,  we 
shall  escape.  Notwithstanding  all  we  have 
read  and  heard,  in  some  way  or  other  a 
merciful  God  will  spare  and  save  us.  And 
here  we  leave  the  matter.  Like  the  men 
before  the  flood,  we  conclude  from  the 
greatness  and  strangeness  of  the  destruc- 
tion threatened,  that  it  will  never  come. 

This  then  was  the  situation  of  Noah  at 
this  time — he  was  living  in  a  world  which 
God  had  declared  he  was  about  to  destroy, 
but  which  no  one  expected  to  be  destroyed. 

II.  Let  us  see  what  the  patriarchs  own 
zonduct  was  in  this  situation. 

He  "prepared  an  ark,"  we  read,  "to 
the  saving  of  his  house."  This  however 
was  not  done  from  any  suggestion  of  his 
own  mind,  or  because  it  appeared  the  best 
way  or  even  a  likely  way  of  preserving  his 
family;  he  did  it  in  a  simple  obedience  to 
the  divine  command.  He  had  found  grace 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord,  and  the  Lord  had 
promised  to  save  him  from  the  coming  de- 
luge. At  the  same  time  he  had  told  him 
that  he  must  look  for  this  deliverance  only 
in  one  way ;  he  must  build  an  immense 
ark,  and  this  ark,  in  God's  hands,  should 
be  the  means  of  his  preservation. 

At  this  distance  of  time,  and  in  circum- 
stances so  different,  we  can  scarcely  esti- 
mate the  real  character  of  his  obedience. 


Ships  probably  had  t>en  never  been  heard 
of,  so  that  his  obedience  involved  in  it  the 
doing  of  a  new  and  strange  thing,  and  also 
apparently  an  insufficient  thing.  The  ark 
may  be  built,  but  will  it  answer  its  in- 
tended purpose  when  it  is  built  ?  Can  a 
structure  so  unwieldy,  so  heavily  laden,' 
with  so  i'cw  to  manage  it,  ever  bear  the 
battling  of  the  elements?  ever  ride  secure- 
ly over  waters  that  are  to  destroy  a  world  ? 
And  it  must  have  been  a  most  laborious 
and  costly  work.  ]\Iore  than  a  hundred 
years  of  Noah's  life  appear  to  have  been 
consumed  in  it,  and  he  could  not  have 
accomplished  it  without  subjecting  himself 
to  much  self-denial  and  difficulty  in  order 
to  obtain  the  means  of  carrying  it  on.  And 
besides  this,  there  was  the  constant  ridicule 
and  scoffing  of  all  who  beheld  it,  for  him 
to  bear  ;  he  and  his  ark  were  the  jests  per- 
haps  of  half  the  world.  But  Noah  obeyed ; 
he  persevered.  Year  after  year  he  went 
on  adding  beam  to  beam  and  plank  to  plank, 
till  the  whole  huge  edifice  was  finished  and 
complete.  And  then  he  did  not  wait  till 
the  waters  came  down  ;  before  a  fountain 
opened  or  a  cloud  burst,  he  and  his  chil- 
dren, at  God's  command,  quietly  went  into 
it.  There  was  obedience  ;  and  it  is  pleas- 
ant to  see  the  notice  taken  of  it  in  God's 
word.  It  seems  as  though  the  Holy  Spirit 
himself  admired  it,  and  intended  us  to  ad- 
mire it.  "  Thus  did  Noah,"  we  read ; 
"  according  to  all  that  God  commanded 
him,  so  did  he."  And  again  ;  "  Noah  did 
according  unto  all  that  the  Lord  command- 
ed him." 

Shall  I  say,  brethren,  that  this  is  the  way 
in  which  you  and  I  must  save  ourselves 
from  coming  wrath  ?  It  is  useless  to  think 
that  God  is  merciful,  and  therefore  we  shall 
be  saved  ;  that  he  has  a  favor  unto  us,  and 
therefore,  when  the  tempest  bursts,  he  will 
deliver  us.  God  must  be  obeyed  before  he 
will  deliver  any  man ;  his  mercy  must  be 
sought  in  his  own  appointed  way,  or  we 
shall  never  find  it ;  he  will  be  bowed  down 
to  as  our  Master  and  Lord  before  he  will 
show  himself  our  Saviour.  What  is  the 
truth  at  this  moment  as  regards  ourselves  ? 
We  have  no  ark  to  prepare  as  Noah  had. 
Blessed  be  God,  he  himself  has  prepared  an 
ark  for  us  ;  has  not  only  appointed  for  us  a 
way  of  salvation,  planned  and  ordered  it, 
with  his  own  right  hand  and  with  his  holy 
arm  he  has  wrought  and  finisliod  it.  In 
Christ  Jesus  there  is  a  complete  salvation 


THE  FAITH  OF  NOAH. 


77 


for  us,  an  eternal  redemption ;  and  lie  calls 
upon  every  one  of  us  to  flee,  as  it  were,  into 
Jesus  Christ,  that  we  may  obtain  it.  He 
points  him  out  to  us  as  a  refufre  from  the 
comin<i:  storm,  and  tells  us  that  if  we  will 
but  hide  ourselves  in  him,  come  what  will, 
we  shall  be  safe.  Now,  Ijrethren,  for  you 
and  me  to  be  looking  about  hither  and 
thither  for  other  means  of  deliverance,  or  to 
spend  our  labor  in  building  up  or  trying  to 
build  up  refuges  of  our  own,  or  to  talk  one 
to  another  of  God's  mercy,  and  do  notliing, 
saying,  that  we  are  sure,  though  we  do  no- 
thing, mercy  will  save  us  at  the  last — what 
is  this  ?  It  is  disobedience,  and  it  can  never 
prosper.  This  is  not  like  Noah's  building 
the  ark  and  entering  it ;  it  is  the  same  as 
though  Noah  had  built  a  tower  instead  of 
an  ark,  and  said,  "  This  is  stronger  and  bet- 
ter, this  shall  save  me  ;"  or  gone  up  to 
some  mountain  top,  and  said,  "  I  shall  be 
secure  here  ;"  or  remained  in  inactivity  and 
indifFerence  where  he  was,  and  trusted  to 
God,  or  to  accident  and  chance,  to  save 
him.  There  is  no  security  for  any  sinner 
but  in  Christ  Jesus,  no  salvation  in  any 
other.  If  you  ask,  why  not  ?  there  is  a 
two-fold  reason  to  be  given  ;  it  is  not  be- 
coming God's  holy  character  and  nature  to 
save  sinners  but  through  him  ;  and  it  would 
be  most  unbecoming  the  lofty  station  tliat 
he  fills,  to  save  them  in  any  way  but  in  the 
way  he  has  appointed.  He  is  the  great 
Governor  of  all  the  earth,  and  even  in  dis- 
pensing his  mercy,  he  must  be  obeyed.  It 
would  dishonor  the  throne  he  sits  on,  though 
it  is  a  throne  of  grace,  t^y  ^"ant  his  salvation 
to  any  but  those  who  bow  down  to  his  au- 
thority and  will. 

III.  We  come  now  to  the  principle  from 
which  Noah's  obedience  proceeded.  It  was 
faith,  the  apostle  says ;  "  By  faith  Noah 
prepared  an  ark." 

In  the  first  verse  of  this  chapter,  he  de- 
fines faith.  It  "  is  the  substance  of  things 
hoped  for,"  he  says  ;  that  which  gives  these 
things  in  our  minds  a  real,  substantial  ex- 
istence. He  then  widens  his  definition — 
"  it  is  the  evidence,"  he  adds,  "of  things 
not  seen."  Before,  he  confined  tlie  exer- 
cise of  faith  to  things  hoped  for,  future  bless- 
ings ;  now  he  brings  unseen  things  of  every 
kind  within  its  operation,  things  past  as  well 
as  future,  and  evil  things  as  well  as  good. 
Faith,  he  says,  is  the  evidence  of  them ; 
that  is,  it  leads  us  to  regard  them  as  real, 
brings  them  within  our  sight,  makes  us  feel 


and  act  with  respect  to  them  as  though  we 
beheld  them.  Now  come  to  the  text.  "Noah, 
being  warned  of  God  of  things  not  seen  as 
yet,"  the  approaching  deluge,  believed  God, 
and  in  consequence  of  his  believing  him, 
expected  this  deluge.  By  faith  he  saw  it, 
saw  it  approaching.  In  the  sky  above  him, 
in  the  world  around  him,  all  was  yet  quiet; 
to  the  eye  of  sense  there  was  no  destruction 
impending  :  witiiin  Noah's  mind  there  was 
another  eye  at  work,  the  eye  of  faith,  and 
with  that  he  beheld  before  him  a  sweeping 
deluge  and  a  drowning  world  ;  and  behold- 
ing this,  he  got  ready  for  it ;  he  "  built  an 
ark  to  the  saving  of  his  house."  Here  was 
faith,  first,  in  (Jod's  warning — the  flood  will 
certainly  come  ;  here  was  faith  too  in  God's 
promise,  or  rather  in  God's  command  im- 
plying a  promise — "  If  I  build  the  ark  he 
has  commanded,  it  will  save  me  when  the 
flood  comes."  And  when  a  sinner  flies  for 
refuge  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  his  appoint- 
ed Saviour,  it-  is  faith  that  leads  him  to 
Christ,  and  it  is  exactly  thus  his  faith  works. 
He  has  been  taught  at  last  that  God  really 
means  something  when  he  threatens  de- 
struction to  sinful  men,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  that  he  may  trust  his  mercy  for  salva- 
tion, when  in  obedience  to  his  command,  he 
seeks  salvation  in  his  Son.  "  There  is  the 
danger,"  says  God,  "  and  there  is  the  de- 
liverance;" the  sinner  through  grace  be- 
lieves him,  and  he  is  seen  fleeing  from  the 
danger  to  the  great  deliverance. 

But  what  we  are  chiefly  to  notice  here,  is, 
that  true  faith  embraces  all  God's  declara- 
tions, his  threatenings  as  well  as  his  pro- 
mises. It  does  not  pick  and  choose  out  of 
God's  word  what  it  shall  take  and  what  it 
shall  reject.  "  No,"  it  says,  "  I  dare  not 
so  treat  it.  It  is  all  true,  every  letter  of 
it ;  and  it  is  all  important,  or  God  would 
not  have  written  it.  I  may  therefore  credit 
it  all,  and  I  must  credit  it  all."  It  is  all  for 
our  souls'  good,  brethren,  and  we  sin  against 
our  own  souls  as  well  as  against  God,  if  we 
pass  over  any  part  of  it.  That  is  a  very 
sickly  faith,  which  can  lay  hold  of  the  di- 
vine promises  only  ;  and  that  is  a  very 
sickly  and  poor  religion,  which  shrinks 
away  from  any  one  of  the  divine  threaten- 
ings. The  heart  in  such  cases  cannot  be 
established  in  grace.  It  cannot  have  much 
confidence  in  God.  Nor  can  it  have  known 
much  of  real,  practical  religion.  It  cannot 
have  fought  many  battles  with  its  own  cor- 
ruptions, or  it  would  have  found  out  before 


THE  FAITH  OF  NOAH. 


now  the  use  of  God's  threatenings  to  restrain 
and  fetter  them.  Sin  at  times  bears  down 
the  promises.  We  do  not  care  about  grace 
and  peace,  and  mercy  and  love  ;  our  taste 
for  them  is  gone.  We  want  some  worldly 
good,  some  earthly  deligh',  and  nothing 
will  stop  us  in  the  pursuit  of  this  but  a 
sword  or  a  threat,  a  blow  from  God's  hand 
or  an  expectation  of  one.  That  is  the  ho- 
liest heart,  which  is  most  under  the  influ- 
ence of  God's  word  ;  Avhich,  like  Noah's 
heart,  is  full  of  faith  in  all  that  God  de- 
clares ;  which,  when  he  warns,  believes 
his  warnings,  puts  as  much  faith  in  them 
as  in  his  promises,  makes  use  of  them,  is 
familiar  with  them,  knows  their  value, 
prizes  them,  would  not  cross  one  of  them 
out  of  God's  blessed  book  even  if  it  could. 
Would  you  see  what  true  faith  is,  breth- 
ren ?  Look  at  it  in  Noah  anticipating  a 
deluge  when  the  Lord  forewarns  him  there 
is  one  coming.  And  would  you  see  it 
again  ?  Look  at  it  again  in  Noah  building 
an  ark  and  committing  himself  calmly  to 
it,  when  God  has  once  commanded  him  to 
build  and  enter  it. 

But  there  is  something  more  in  the  text. 

IV.  It  lays  open  to  us  ihe  feeling  hy 
which  faith  wrought  in  the  patriarch^s  mind. 
"  Moved  with  fear,"  the  apostle  says,  "  he 
prepared  an  ark  to  the  saving  of  his  house." 


And   whence    did    this   fear 


It 


came  from  his  faith,  and  through  it  his 
faith  wrought.  A  belief  in  God's  warnings 
excited  in  him  a  holy  fear  of  God's  judg- 
ments, and  this  fear  impelled  him  to  set 
about  preparing  the  means  of  deliverance 
God  had  appointed  him. 

But  faith,  we  may  say,  produces  confi- 
dence and  hope  ;  how  then  can  fear  be  as- 
cnhed  to  it  ?  The  effect  produced  by  faith 
is  a^  various  as  the  objects  on  which  it  is 
exercised.  It  takes  its  character  from  those 
objects.  Place  a  promise  before  faith,  it 
rejoices  in  hope  ;  present  a  threatening  to 
it,  it  trembles  and  fears.  Fear  is  not 
always  inconsistent  with  faith.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  often  closely  connected  with 
it,  and  grows  out  of  it.  These  two  graces 
are  described  here  as  both  existing  irt  the 
same  man  at  the  same  time,  and  combining 
one  Avith  the  other  to  produce  the  same 
effect.  Noah's  faitli  led  to  Noah's  fear, 
and  both  together  to  Noah's  obedience  : 
they  built  the  ark.  Wo  must  not  then  at 
once  say  that  this  or  that  fear  within  us 
springs    from    unbelief  j    it  may    have   its 


origin  in  faith  itself;  it  may  be  intended 
by  God  to  be  faith's  instrument  within  us 
in  order  to  turn  us  from  some  evil  or  to 
work  in  us  some  good.  We  must  look  at 
our  fears  before  we  cast  them  away. 
Whence  do  they  arise  ?  From  the  work- 
ings of  our  own  minds,  from  our  oAvn  rea- 
sonings, from  forgetfulness  of  God's  word 
and  promises  ?  Then  the  sooner  we  cast 
them  away,  and  utterly  cast  them  away, 
the  better.  But  are  they  grounded  on 
God's  word  rightly  interpreted  and  under- 
stood ?  Do  they  spring  from  a  growing 
conviction  in  our  minds  that  his  word  is 
more  important  and  true  than  we  once 
thought  it  ?  And  do  we  find  them  urging 
us  to  fly  from  our  spiritual  evils  and  dan- 
gers, and  impelling  us  with  an  almost  irre- 
sistible force  to  submit  to  God's  will  and 
grace  ?  Then  cherish  your  fears,  breth- 
ren ;  they  are  worth  the  cherishing.  If 
you  are  not  already  in  the  ark,  they  may 
lead  you  into  it ;  and  if  you  are  in  it, 
through  the  Spirit's  power  they  may  keep 
you  there.  "  Happy  is  the  man  that"  thus 
"  feareth  alway."  There  is  this  difference 
between  real  Christians  and  all  other  men 
— they  tremble  at  God's  word,  others  make 
light  of  it.  Other  men  tremble  when  the 
tempest  comes,  these  men  tremble  before  it 
comes,  at  the  prospect  of  it.  The  ungodly 
believe  and  tremble  in  hell  when  it  is  too 
late  to  escape,  the  people  of  God  believe 
and  tremble  on  earth,  and  believing,  flee 
and  escape. 

And  now  I  would  speak  to  you  all,  I  will 
suppose  you  all  to  be  in  a  situation  very 
similar  to  that  in  which  Noah  was,  when 
the  Lord  first  told  him  of  a  coming  deluge. 
I  will  suppose  you  also  to  be  aware  of  your 
situation,  and  affected  by  it.  The  great 
day  of  judgment  is  often  in  your  thoughts, 
and  you  cannot  help  shrinking  with  fear 
whenever  you  seriously  inquire  what  the 
consequences  of  that  day  will  be  to  you. 
Now  let  me  ask,  what  have  your  expecta- 
tions of  judgment  and  your  fear  of  it  done 
for  you,  or  rather  what  have  they  impelled 
you  to  do  ?  I  do  not  say,  have  they  led 
you  to  build  an  ark  for  your  safety,  for 
there  is  an  ark  already  built  for  you.  The 
door  of  it  stands  ever  open,  and  God  has 
invited  you  a  thousand  times,  and  is  invi- 
ting you  still,  to  enter  into  it.  He  tells  you 
that  in  Christ  .Tesus  there  is  a  ready  wel- 
come  for  every  sinner,  and  perfect  safety  ; 
that  there  is  no  condemnation  and  can  be 


THE  FAITH  OF  NOAH. 


79 


none  for  those  that  are  in  him  ;  that  to  com- 
mit yourselves  to  his  care  and  k-ceping:,  is 
to  be  safe  in  judgment  and  ha])|)y  in  eterni- 
ty. He  goes  further  than  tliis  ;  he  com- 
mands you  to  commit  yourselves  to  him,  he 
has  made  it  your  duty  to  believe  in  him  for 
the  saving  of  your  souls.  Brethren,  have 
you  done  this  ?  Are  you  doing  it  still  ? 
Have  you  this  very  day  said  at  the  feet 
of  Jesus  Clirist,  "  Lord,  I  am  guilty,  and 
perishing,  and  helpless.  O  save  me!'  If 
not,  then  your  fears  have  as  yet  done  very 
little  for  you  ;  they  have  in  fact  done  noth- 
ing. If  they  have  not  made  you  willing 
and  obedient,  have  not  yet  brought  you  to 
Christ,  you  have  still  the  turning  point  to 
pass  between  life  and  death,  salvation  and 
destruction.  It  is  well  to  fear,  but  it  is  not 
fear,  it  is  obedience,  it  is  practice,  it  is  the 
soul's  turning  itself  to  its  appointed  Saviour, 
that  is  the  all  in  all  in  religion  ;  not  hear- 
ing of  the  ark,  not  thinking  of  it,  not  look- 
ing at  it,  not  wishing  ourselves  within  it, 
but  entering  it,  going  in  at  the  door  with 
all  our  guilt,  and  sins,  and  misery,  about 
us,  and  hiding  ourselves  there.  Ask  what 
real  religion  is  in  a  world  like  this — it  is  a 
sinner's  fleeing  at  God's  command  to  a 
Saviour  ;  it  is  a  sinner's  readiness  to  aban- 
don, lose,  suffer,  do,  any  thing,  so  that  he 
may  at  last  win  Christ  and  be  found  in 
him. 

Some  of  you  may  be  in  doubt  whether 
you  have  done  this  or  not,  whether  you 
have  entered  the  ark  or  not.  There  was 
a  time  when  you  trusted  you  had  done  so. 
You  saw  a  tempest  of  wrath  coming  on 
you,  and  you  fled  to  the  Lord  Jesus  for  de,- 
liverance  from  it.  You  embraced,  as  you 
thought,  God's  promises  to  sinners  in  the 
gospel.  They  were  certainly  very  pre- 
cious to  you,  and  for  a  season  you  greatly 
rejoiced  in  them.  But  now,  you  go  on  to 
say,  your  old  fears  often  return.  A  sense 
of  sin  and  danger  often  disquiets  you.  You 
are  often  forced  to  come  anew  to  your 
Saviour,  not,  as  you  would  wish  to  do,  like 
his  happy  people,  but  as  perishing  sinners 
who  fly  for  the  first  time  to  his  feet.  In 
fact,  you  say,  you  often  find  yourselves  just 
the  same  fearing,  trembling  men  that  you 
were  when  you  first  cast  yourselves  down 


before  him  and  cried  for  mercv.  Prom  all 
this  you  infer  that  your  character  is  suspi- 
cious  and  your  religion  perhaps  a  dfdusion. 
;  But,  brethren,  turn  to  this  text.  Here  is 
fear  in  godly  Noah's  mind,  a  fear  too  of 
God's  judgments,  a  fear  brought  on  by  God's 
threatenings,  a  fear  existing  also  at  the 
same  time  that  he  is  preparing  an  ark  which, 
he  is  quite  sure,  will  preserve  him.  And 
think  too  of  his  situation  when  he  was  float- 
ing in  that  ark.  It  was  a  secure  one,  we 
know,  but  yet  an  awful  one.  Around  him, 
a  world  of  waters  ;  beneath  him,  convul- 
sions  rending  the  earth  and  tearing  it; 
above  him,  storm,  and  tempest,  and  an  an- 
gry God  ;  and  he  himself  shut  up  in  a  ves- 
sel that  might  be  dashed  to  pieces  in  any 
moment,  driving  he  knew  not  whither.  Did 
he,  think  you,  never  feel  a  thrill,  never 
know  a  fear,  in  a  situation  like  this  ?  Sure- 
ly if  he  feared  before  he  entered  that  ark, 
he  must  have  often  feared  far  more  when 
he  was  in  it.  You  know  how  to  apply  this. 
It  is  God's  will  that  you  should  still  see 
your  dangers  and  feel  them.  For  this  pur- 
pose  he  keeps  you  among  them.  Ho  saves 
you  so,  that  every  step  of  your  salvation 
reminds  you  of  your  dangers,  and  when  he 
calls  on  you  to  work  out  your  own  salva- 
tion, he  bids  you  do  it  under  a  sense  of 
them,  "  with  fear  and  trembling."  This 
fear  that  you  are  ready  to  think  is  against 
you,  he  employs  for  you  ;  it  is  one  grand 
instrument  that  he  makes  use  of  to  keep 
you  near  him  and  keep  you  safe.  Do  not 
aim  then  to  get  it  out  of  your  hearts  ;  aim 
rather  to  have  it  kept  there  in  its  right 
place.  It  may  not  be  the  most  pleasurable 
feeling  you  experience  nor  the  noblest ; 
but  day  by  day  it  will  become  more  pleas- 
urable and  nobler ;  it  will  blend  more 
naturally  with  fiiith,  and  witli  hope  and  joy; 
it  will  be  softened  by  them,  while  it  is 
elevated  and  refined.  The  pain  of  it  will 
go,  but  the  blessedness  of  it  will  remain. 
You  will  know  on  earth  what  the  blessed- 
ness of  godly  fear  means,  and  when  you 
wake  up  in  heaven,  you  will  be  "  mr^ved 
with  fear"  still,  a  fear  which  the  Christian 
cannot  describe,  but  yet  a  fear  which  he 
feels  can  live  and  flourish  among  heaven's 
glories  and  heaven's  joys. 


80 


HAGAR  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


SERMON  XVII. 

QUIXQUAGESIMA    SUNDAY. 

HAGAIl  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

Genesis  .xxi.  19. — "  And  God  opened  her  eyes,  and 
she  saw  a  well  of  water." 

This  was  Hagar,  Abraham's  bondwo- 
man. We  find  lier  in  this  chapter  distress- 
ed and  sinking  in  the  wilderness  of  Beer- 
she  ba. 

I.  Let  us  look  at  the  circumstances  which 
brought  her  into  this  situation. 

The  Loi'd  had  promised  Abraham  a  son, 
and,  through  that  son,  he  had  engaged  to 
make  him  the  father  of  a  great  nation. 
Still,  year  after  year  passed  away,  and 
though  the  promise  was  again  and  again 
renewed,  there  appeared  no  prospect  what- 
ever of  its  being  accomplished.  Abraham 
himself  seems  to  have  borne  this  delay  well, 
but  not  so  Sarah,  his  wife.  She  becomes 
at  last  impatient,  and,  with  a  strange  mix- 
ture of  faith,  unbelief,  and  presumption, 
takes  the  accomplishment  of  the  divine 
promise  into  her  own  hands.  Despairing 
of  becoming  herself  a  parent,  and  pitying 
perhaps  the  long  deferred  hope  of  her  hus- 
band, she  proposes  to  him  that  he  should 
take  a  second  wife  from  among  her  house- 
hold servants,  and  points  out  to  him  Hagar, 
an  Egyptian  slave.  In  an  evil  hour,  the 
patriarch  yields  to  her  solicitations,  and  re- 
ceives Hagar  from  her  hands.  A  holy 
God,  we  may  say,  will  never  prosper  this  ; 
but  for  a  time  the  plan  seems  to  prosper. 
Hagar  will  soon  be  a  mother,  and,  with  the 
promised  seed,  the  promised  nation  and 
greatness,  we  might  suppose,  will  come. 
The  Lord  seldom  baffles  human  policy  at 
first,  brethren.  He  generally  gives  it  time 
to  become  a  scourge  to  us  before  he  finally 
overthrows  it.  He  did  so  in  this  case. 
Hagar,  naturally  elated  with  her  situation, 
begins  to  despise  Sarah,  and  Sarah  to  deal 
harshly  with  her.  There  is  discord  intro- 
duced into  Abraham's  once  peaceful  tent — 
that  was  the  first  bitter  fruit  of  his  folly  and 
sin. 

In  due  time  Ishmael  is  born,  and  for  sev- 
eral years,  perhaps  fifteen,  Abraham  ap- 
pears to  have  regarded  him  as  the  son  prom- 
ised him.  At  last  however  the  Lord  tells 
him  that  what  Sarah  had  so  long  ao-o 
thought  impossible,  should  now,  when  it 
seemed   further  than  ever  from  possible. 


actually  come  to  pass.  She  herself  in  her 
old  age  shall  bear  him  a  son,  in  whom, 
and  not  in  Ishmael,  the  great  promises  so 
often  made  to  him  shall  have  their  fulfil- 
ment. The  old  man's  answer  is  a  touch- 
ing one.  Instead  of  rejoicing  in  the  pros- 
pect of  another  son,  and  that  son  his  beloved 
Sarah's,  his  heart  yearns  over  the  boy  he 
already  possessed,  and  with  a  voice  of  earn- 
est entreaty  he  cries  out  unto  God,  "  O  that 
Ishmael  might  live  before  thee  !"  The  di- 
vine purposes  however  are  fixed.  The 
Lord  denies  his  request.  He  promises  him 
indeed  a  blessing  for  Ishmael,  but  in  Isaac, 
his  future  son,  he  tells  him,  shall  his  seed 
be  called. 

About  a  year  after  this,  Isaac  is  born, 
and  at  a  feast  made  when  the  child  is 
weaned,  Ishmael,  now  seventeen  years  of 
age,  is  seen  by  Sarah  deriding  him.  This 
brings  matters  to  a  crisis.  Sarah  will  bear 
no  more  ;  she  insists  on  it  that  the  bond- 
woman and  her  son  shall  be  sent  away. 
And  now  poor  Abraham  reaps  the  full  re- 
ward of  his  folly.  "  The  thing  was  very 
grievous  in  his  sight,"  we  read,  "  because 
of  his  son."  Hagar  he  could  spare,  but 
how  part  with  his  child  ?  He  seems  to 
have  referred  the  matter  to  God,  and  God 
tells  him  kindly  but  plainly,  that  what  Sa- 
rah has  required,  must  be  done — the  mothe; 
and  her  child  must  be  dismissed.  Anc^ 
now  the  servant  of  the  Lord  puts  on  lii.» 
strength,  and  acts  like  a  servant  of  tlu 
Lord.  When  God  commanded  him  to  cir- 
cumcise  himself  and  his  family,  he  did  it 
"  the  self-same  day  ;"  and  now  he  is  com- 
manded, probably  in  a  vision  of  the  night, 
to  put  away  Hagar  and  her  son,  there  is 
again  no  hesitation,  no  delay  ;  "  he  rises 
up  early  in  the  morning,"  doubtless  the 
very  next  morning,  and  sends  them  off — 
with  what  feelings,  it  is  not  said,  but  the 
simple  narrative  given  us  here  of  the  trans- 
action, clearly  reveals  to 'us  what  was 
passing  in  his  heart.  With  his  own  hand 
he  ministers  to  Hagar,  as  though  he  were 
the  slave,  and  not  she.  "  He  took  bread 
and  a  bottle  of  water,  and  gave  it  unto  her, 
putting  it  on  her  shoulder,  and  the  child, 
and  sent  her  away." 

There,  brethren,  is  the  fruit  of  sin,  of  sin, 
remember,  in  one  of  God's  dearest  servants 
— a  rending  of  the  very  heart-strings,  a 
father,  and  a  fond  one,  severed  forever  from 
his  child,  and  that  child  one  who  for  six- 
teen years  at  least  had  absorbed  all  his  pa- 


IIAGAR  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


81 


rental  afToctions,  been  his  only  child.  But ' 
this  is  only  one  side  of  the  picture.  Seel 
here  too  the  strength  and  tlie  obedience  of  I 
even  an  erring  servant  of  (Jod.  "If  thy 
haiiil  ollend  thee,"  says  Christ,  "  cut  it  off.  - 
If  thine  eye  Otlend  thee,  pluck  it  out." 
We  arc  to  do  more  than  submit  to  the  loss 
of  these  offending  members  ;  we  are  our- 
selves to  separate  them  and  cast  them  away. 
So  Abraliam  here,  when  God  says  to  him, 
"  That  woman  and  that  child  nmst  go," 
does  more  than  acquiesce.  He  does  not 
leave  it  to  Sarah,  or  leave  it  to  God,  to 
make  the  separation  ;  he  makes  it  himself, 
and  with  as  much  promptitude  as  though 
he  were  doing  a  pleasurable  rather  than  an 
agonizing  thing.  Such  is  the  power  of  Je- 
hovah's grace  in  man's  weak  heart.  The 
corruption  of  our  nature  is  indeed  strong, 
strong  in  the  very  best  of  men,  and  indica- 
tions enough  do  they  give  us  of  its  .strength 
and  of  their  own  weakness  beneath  it  ;  but 
while  we  acknowledge  this  and  mourn  over 
it,  we  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  greater 
strength  of  the  Spirit  of  God  within  us. 
"Crucify  the  flesh  with  the  affections  and 
lusts,"  says  the  scripture.  "  We  cannot 
do  it,"  we  answer;  "these  affections  are 
too  strong  within  us  to  be  mastered."  But 
God  takes  up  the  command,  presses  it  home 
upon  our  conscience  ;  with  the  command 
comes  the  power  to  obey  it ;  and  the  strong- 
est, tenderest  feelings  of  our  nature  give 
way.  They  are  not  eradicated,  but  they 
are  mortified,  they  are  conquered,  they  are 
subjected  to  the  law  and  will  of  God.  Abra- 
ham with  his  two  sons,  this  sending  away 
of  the  one  and  the  subsequent  lifting  up  of 
his  arm  on  mount  Moriah  to  slay  the  other, 
are  glorious  proofs  that  God  can  do  any 
thing  he  pleases  with  man's  weak  heart, 
and  enable  man — man  in  his  weakness  and 
corruption — to  do  any  thing  he  pleases  at  his 
command. 

II.  And  now,  leaving  Abraham,  let  us 
follow  Hagar,  and  notice  the  effect  produced 
on  her  by  the  desolate  siluution  into  which 
she  is  brought. 

It  was  doubtless  Abraham's  intention 
that  she  should  go  to  her  own  country, 
E.sypt,  where  she  probably  still  had  rela- 
tives or  friends.  We  may  reasonai)ly  con- 
clude too  that  he  gave  lier  adequate  means 
of  support  for  herself  and  her  child  in  the 
journey.  But  we  are  not  told  tiiis.  All 
we  are  told  is,  that  "  slie  departed  and  wan- 
dered in  the  wilderness  of  Beershcba." 
11 


Absorbed  in  her  own  sorrowful  and  bitter 
feelings,  she  lost  her  way  perhaps  ;  or  per- 
haps  she  lingered  about  in  Abraham's 
country  in  the  hope  that  he  iniglit  relent 
and  she  be  recalled.  But  by  and  bv  her 
supply  of  water  is  gone ;  it  is  all  "  spent 
in  the  Iwttle  ;"  and  to  be  without  water  in 
an  eastern  desert  is  very  soon  to  perish. 
She  seems  to  have  at  once  given  herself  up 
to  perish,  and  her  child  with  her.  "  She 
cast  him,"  we  read,  "  under  one  of  the 
shrubs,"  and  as  though  her  cup  of  misery 
was  too  full  to  let  her  witness  his  sufferings, 
"  she  went  and  sat  her  down  oyer  against 
him  a  good  way  off,"  and  there  abandoned 
herself  to  despair.  "  She  sat  over  against 
him,  and  lift  up  her  voice,  and  wept." 

"  And  just  so,"  some  of  you  perhaps  may 
be  ready  to  say,  "  should  we  have  acted  in 
ner  situation.  What  else  could  she  do  ?" 
I  answer,  here  is  despair,  brethren,  and 
despair  was  never  intended  for  man  in  this 
world  of  mercy,  let  his  situation  in  it  be  as 
afflictive,  and  his  circumstances  as  despe- 
rate, as  they  may.  But  before  we  come  to 
this  point,  let  me  just  ask,  is  there  any  one 
here  who  would  admire  this  woman's  feel- 
ing in  getting  out  of  the  sight  of  her  child's 
dying  pangs  ?  It  was  false  feeling,  natu- 
ral perhaps,  but  selfish  and  wrong.  Would 
you  see  how  a  nobler  woman  would  have 
acted  in  such  a  situation  ?  Look  at  per- 
haps the  noblest  of  all  women  in  a  situation 
somewhat  like  this.  She  too  has  a  dying 
son.  "  Now  there  stood  by  the  cross  of 
Jesus  his  mother" — by  his  cross,  close  to 
him,  close  as  she  could  get,  in  the  near 
sight  of  his  dying  agony,  within  the  sound 
of  his  expiring  voice.  That  was  a  great 
woman — this  was  an  affectionate,  but  a 
weak  one,  I  need  not  say  which  a  Chris- 
tian mother  should  resemble. 

It  is  not  however  Hagar's  weakness  as  a 
parent,  that  is  most  conspicuous  here  :  it  is 
her  despair.  And  that  this  was  wrong, 
well  founded  as  it  seems,  will  be  clear  if 
we  remember, 

1.  It  was  despair  m  opposition  to  God's 
plain  promises. 

"  Let  me  not  see  the  death  of  the  child," 
she  says.  Why,  the  Lord  himself  had  spo- 
ken to  her  from  heaven  years  ago,  and  told 
her  that  that  very  child  should  live  to  be  a 
man,  and  a  powerful  and  great  one.  And 
this  promise  he  had  renewed  l)ut  a  short 
time  before  to  Abraham,  who  would  natu- 
rally mention   the  renewal    of  it  to  her 


82 


HAGAR  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 


But  in  this  hour  of  seeming  danger,  Jeho- 
vah's words  are  as  notliing  to  lier  ;  she 
either  does  not  think  of  or  she  disbelieves 
them.  "  My  child  must  die,"  she  says, 
and  casts  him  down  to  die.  How  like  our- 
selves in  some  of  our  trials  ! 

We  are  commanded  to  live  by  faith,  and 
we  try  to  do  so,  and  sometimes,  the  Lord 
helping  us,  we  can  do  so.  The  divine 
promises  are  as  a  rock  underneath  us.  Je- 
hovah's word,  we  feel,  must  be  fulfilled, 
and  we  no  more  regard  the  obstacles  that 
seem  to  oppose  its  fulfilment,  than  we  do 
the  dark  clouds  in  the  east  when  tlie  sun  is 
rising,  or  the  sandbank  in  the  ocean  that 
threatens  to  keep  back  the  coming  tide. 
But  what  are  these  promises  to  us  at  other 
times  ?  Our  rock  is  gone.  We  think  and 
feel,  and  too  often  we  speak  and  act,  as 
though  we  could  not  find  a  single  promise 
to  stay  our  souls  on.  We  do  not  even  look 
for  one.  Absorbed  in  our  dangers,  or  mis- 
eries, or  sins,  we  treat  Jehovah's  purposes 
and  Jehovah's  words  as  though  they  were 
not  worth  thinking  of,  fit  only  to  comfort  us 
in  a  bright  and  quiet  day,  of  no  use  to  us 
whatever  in  darkness  and  the  storm. 

2.  The  despair  of  Hagar  was  despair  in 
opposition  to  her  own  experience. 

This  was  not  the  first  time  she  had  been 
in  a  desert.  If  you  turn  to  the  sixteenth 
chapter  of  this  book,  you  will  see  that  she 
fled  into  one  when  Sarah  began  to  deal 
hardly  with  her.  And  there,  we  might 
have  expected,  the  Lord  would  have  left 
her  to  reap  the  fruit  of  her  rashness  ;  but 
not  so.  He  is  observant  of  her  there.  He 
condescends  to  speak  to  her,  to  comfort  her, 
to  let  her  see  how  great  an  interest  he  took, 
slave  as  she  was,  in  her  welfare.  And 
this  at  the  time  made  a  great  impression  on 
her.  In  admiration  of  the  Lord's  goodness, 
she  calls  the  place  where  she  had  experi- 
enced it,  by  a  name  implying,  "  Thou, 
God,  seest  me."  But  this  is  now  clean  for- 
gotten. The  wilderness  she  is  in,  does  not 
remind  her  of  the  other  wilderness  she  was 
once  m.  She  does  not  say,  "  Lord,  thou 
sawedst  me  in  my  folly  before  that  child 
was  born,  and  piticdst  me  ;  thou  seest  me 
now  in  my  misery,  O  pity  me  again." 
She  makes  no  appeal  to  God.  She  merely 
sits  down,  lifts  up  her  voice,  and  weeps. 
Ourselves  again,  brethren. 

''  I  know  whom  I  have  believed.  The 
experience  I  myself  have  had  in  days  past 
vi  my  Saviour's  love  and  faithfulness  en- 


courages me,  nay,  compels  me,  to  trust  him 
now" — all  of  us  who  are  Christians  indeed, 
know  what  this  means  ;  and  we  know  quite 
as  well  what  something  very  different  from 
this  means ;  what  it  is  to  have  new  trials 
come,  and  completely  banish  for  a  lime  all 
remembrance  from  our  minds  of  our  past 
mercies.  The  Lord  brings  us  into  a  desert 
and  appears  for  us  there.  "  I  can  never 
forget  this,"  we  say.  "  The  remembrance 
of  this  mercy  will  be  a  stay  to  me  all  my 
life  long."  But  we  get  into  the  desert 
again,  and  what  do  we  say  then  ?  "  The 
Lord  will  help  me  again  '?  He  hath  de- 
livered, and  doth  deliver,  and  will  yet  de- 
liver ?  Because  thou  hast  been  my  help, 
therefore,  under  the  shadow  of  thy  wings 
will  I  even  here  rejoice  ?"  We  say  almost 
any  thing  rather  than  this.  All  the  many 
proofs  We  have  had  of  the  Lord's  power 
and  faithfulness,  are  as  much  out  of  our 
thoughts  as  though  we  had  never  had  one 
of  them.  The  goodness  and  mercy,  the 
wonderful  goodness  and  mercy,  that  have 
followed  us  all  our  life  long,  are  no  more 
to  us  than  they  would  have  been  had  they 
never  come  near  us. 

3.  Hagar's  despair  was  despair  in  oppo- 
sition to  fact  also.  It  was  despair  in  the 
very  midst  of  abundance.  Observe,  the 
water  that  was  needed  to  save  her  child's 
life,  was  close  by  her,  within  her  sight  and 
reach,  at  the  very  time  she  was  saying, 
"  My  child  must  die  for  the  want  of  it." 
The  text  seems  to  imply  this.  It  does  not 
say  that  the  Lord  opened  for  her  at  the  mo- 
ment the  well  of  water  beside  her ;  it  inti- 
mates rather  that  it  was  there  before,  but 
she,  bewildered  with  her  bodily  and  mental 
sufferings,  had  not  seen  it. 

What  a  picture,  brethren,  of  poor  man 
sitting  down  and  weeping  in  sorrow  and 
despair  in  this  world  of  abounding  mercy! 
The  truth  is,  not  that  we  have  a  God  in 
heaven  who  cares  for  us  miserable  sinners, 
and  is  willing  to  provide  for  us  in  our  sin 
and  misery  tlic  help  and  salvation  we  need, 
he  has  already  provided  it  and  in  the  rich- 
est abundance.  A  fountain  he  has  long  ago 
opened  in  Christ  Jesus  for  us.  "  Wells  of 
salvation,"  as  he  calls  them,  well  upon  well 
has  he  opened  for  our  refreshment  and  com- 
fort, and  he  bids  us  come  and  draw  water 
with  joy  freely  from  them.  He  says  in- 
deed, "  when  the  poor  and  needy  seek 
water,  and  there  is  none,  and  their  tongue 
faileth  for  thirst,"  that  he  will  then  "  open 


HAGAR  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


93 


livers  in  the  high  places  for  them,  and  foun- 
tains in  the  midst  of  tlio  valleys,"  but, 
brethren,  though  he  speaks  thus,  the  thing 
is  already  done;  the  rivers  have  already 
burst  forth  in  the  high  places  for  us,  the 
fountains  are  already  opened  and  are  run- 
ning over  for  us  in  the  valleys.  The  gos- 
pel feast  is  not  now  preparing,  it  is  pre- 
pared. The  gospel  invitation  is,  "  All 
things  are  ready;  come  and  take  them." 
Do  we  want  salvation  for  our  perishing 
souls  ?  The  gospel  does  not  speak  to  us 
as  a  man  on  the  shore  might  speak  to  a 
shivering  mariner  wlio  is  calling  out  to  him 
from  his  wreck  for  assistance — "  Wait ;  I 
will  make  ready  a  life-boat,  and  launch  it, 
and  send  it  over  the  billows  to  you;"  it 
says,  "  The  life-boat  is  out ;  it  has  reached 
you  ;  it  is  close  by  your  side  ;  spring  into 
it  and  be  safe."  And  the  same  may  be 
said,  for  the  same  is  true,  of  every  blessing 
we  can  need  both  for  body  and  for  soul,  for 
time  and  for  eternity — all  are  prepared  for 
us,  all  are  waiting  for  us,  all  are  by  our 
side.  The  world  is  indeed  a  desert,  but  it 
is  a  desert  with  an  overflowing,  inexhausti- 
ble well  in  it ;  for  the  Lord  .Tesus  Christ 
is  in  it  in  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead,  the 
fulness  of  the  divine  grace  and  love.  The 
Father  has,  as  it  were,  emptied  himself  into 
the  Lord  Jesus,  made  over  to  him  all  his 
abundance  ;  and  he,  with  all  this  abun- 
dance in  him,  is  come  among  us,  come  to 
us  near  as  he  can  come,  placed  himself 
within  the  reach  of  every  sinful,  every 
wretched  man.  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you,"  he 
says,  "  with  you  alway,  even  unto  the  end 
of  the  world."  Despair  then  and  sinking 
despondency,  giving  up  this  and  that  and 
even  heaven  itself  as  lost — this  is  Hagar, 
brethren,  sitting  down  to  perish  by  the 
well's  side  ;  it  is  being  in  straits  in  the 
very  fulness  of  sufficiency  ;  it  is  dying  with 
hunger  at  an  abundant  feast ;  it  is  shutting 
our  eyes  at  noon-day  and  saying,  "  There 
is  no  light." 

in.  Let  us  look  now  at  the  interposition 
of  God  in  behalf  of  this  desjiair/im  woman, 
the  mercy  he  showed  her.  It  consisted,  you 
observe,  in  this  one  simple  thing,  he  "open- 
ed her  eyes."  He  did  no  more  for  her,  for 
no  more  was  needed.  There  the  help  was, 
the  water  that  she  wanted  ;  he  enal)led  her 
to  see  it,  and  that  was  enough.  "  She  went 
and  filled  the  bottle  with  water,"  and  then, 
flying  to  her  uynig  child,  "she  gave  the  lad 
drink." 


Wondering,  happy  woman !  we  say  ;  hut 
not  more  wondering  or  more  happy  tnan 
many  a  despairing  sinner  has  been,  when  the 
Lord  has  opened  his  eyes  and  discovered  to 
him  his  great  salvation,  his  abounding  mer- 
cy,  the  fountain  of  living  waters  he  has  pro- 
vided for  him  in  Christ  Jesus.  It  seems 
strange  that  we  in  this  Christian  land,  this 
land  of  light,  do  not  all  see  this  fountain, 
but  there  is  a  blindness  come  over  the  soul 
of  man.  The  grace  of  God  manifested  in 
the  Lord  Jesus,  appearing,  shining  forth  in 
his  gospel  as  clearly  as  the  sun  ever  shone 
in  the  heavens — we  may  hear  of  this,  it 
may  be  pointed  out  to  us  every  sabbath  we 
live,  and  we  may  be  urged  to  look  at  if,  but 
we  shall  never  see  it,  never  know  any  thing 
of  it,  till  the  living  God  opens  our  eyes  and 
enables  us  to  discern  it.  All  the  suns  and 
stars  in  the  universe,  were  they  all  shinincr 
around  him  in  one  blaze  of  light,  would 
never  make  a  blind  man  see  ;  nor  would 
all  the  gospel  light  that  could  possibly  be 
poured  around  us,  ever  of  itself  reveal  to 
us  God's  salvation.  We  want  "  an  unc- 
tion from  the  Holy  One;"  we  want  the  en- 
lightening  of  our  minds  by  the  God  who 
made  our  minds,  we  want  our  spiritual  sight 
restored  by  him ;  then  shall  we  see  his 
grace  and  his  glory  as  they  shine  forth  in 
the  face  of  Jesus  Christ ;  then  shall  we  fly, 
like  Hagar,  to  the  fountain,  and,  like  her, 
wonder  and  rejoice. 

And  observe  how  freely  and  spontane- 
ously  the  Lord  showed  this  woman  this 
mercy.  He  generally  appears  for  us  in 
our  difficulties  in  answer  to  our  prayers. 
He  makes  our  dangers,  or  sorrows,  or  wants, 
or  sins,  excite  us  to  prayer,  and  then,  when 
they  have  done  this,  he  interposes  for  us. 
"  Call  upon  me,"  is  his  promise,  "  in  the 
day  of  trouble,  and  I  will  deliver  thee." 
But  here,  as  far  as  we  can  see,  there  is  no 
calling  upon  him.  Hagar  is  nowhere 
said  to  pray.  Her  child  is  nowhere  said 
to  pray.  What  brings  then  the  Lord  in 
his  mercy  down  ?  Twicp  over  we  are  told, 
"the  voice  of  the  lad"  brings  him  down; 
his  plaints,  his  cries,  his  expressions  of 
misery.  We  often  say,  prayer  has  a  voice 
for  God,  but  we  see  here  that  suflering  has 
a  voice  for  God.  "  I  have  seen,  I  have 
seen,  the  aflliction  of  my  people,"  he  says 
of  his  captive  Israel,  "and  I  have  heard 
their  groaning,  and  am  come  down  to  de- 
liver them."  "  When  the  poor  and  needy 
seek  water,"  he  says  again,  "and  there  is 


84 


THE  PRAYER  OF  CONTRITE  ISRAEL. 


none,  and  their  tongue  faileth  for  thirst,  I 
the  Lord  will  hear  them;"  he  will  hear 
them  thouffh  not  a  word  are  they  said  to 
utter  ;  their  suffering,  their  speechless,  si- 
lent sufTering,  shall  reach  his  car,  and  move 
his  mercy. 

Now  what  are  we  to  gather  from  this  ? 
That  we  need  not  pray  ?  not  call  upon  God 
in  our  wants  and  miseries  ?  No.  God's 
mercy  is  not  to  be  the  rule  for  our  conduct, 
but  God's  commands.  His  mercy  is  so 
abundant,  that  he  will  sometimes  help  the 
man  who  calls  not  upon  his  name,  but  his 
command  to  us  all  is  to  call  upon  his  name. 
No  matter  how  needy  or  wretched  we  are, 
we  have  no  more  warrant  to  expect  any 
mercy  from  him  without  prayer,  than  we 
have  to  expect  food  without  seeking  it,  to 
expect  the  ravens  to  feed  us  or  the  hard 
rock  to  give  us  drink.  But  then,  looking 
at  this  history,  .we  may  say,  if  there  is 
sometimes  so  much  mercy  for  a  poor,  de- 
spairing sinner  without  prayer,  what  is 
there  for  us  with  prayer?  Want,  misery, 
suffering,  have  prevailed  with  God  here, 
brought  the  supply  ;  add  to  these  entreaty, 
and  supplication,  and  a  casting  of  the  sink- 
ing soul  on  God — what  will  come  then  ? 
Here  is  despair  helped  and  relieved,  the 
despair  that  dishonors  God,  forgets  his  mer- 
cies and  disbelieves  his  promises;  take  that 
despair  away  and  put  faith  in  its  place,  the 
faith  that  glorifies  God,  proclaiming  him 
worthy  to  be  trusted,  able  and  willing  to 
fulfil  every  word  of  his  gracious  lips  ;  and 
what  will  God  do  ?  O,  brethren,  try  what 
he  will  do.  Call  you  upon  him  ;  trust  him. 
Shall  I  tell  you  the  best  thing,  or  one  of 
the  best  things  he  can  do  for  you  ?  It  is  to 
show  you  what  he  has  already  done ;  not  to 
give  you  this  or  to  give  you  that ;  not  to  fill 
some  scanty  bottle  again  for  you,  soon 
again  to  be  spent ;  it  is  to  open  your  eyes 
that  you  may  see  the  fountain  ;  it  is  to  dis- 
cover to  you  the  fulness  of  blessings  he  has 
treasured  up  in  his  dear  Son  for  you,  and 
that  Son's  readiness  to  supply  your  wants 
from  them  ;  it  is  to  let  you  sec  that  you 
have  an  all-sufficient  God  for  your  Helper, 
Comforter,  and  Saviour,  and  that  all-suffi- 
cient God  very  near,  "  very  present,"  with 
you. 

What  is  really  the  situation  of  every  one 
now  within  these  walls  ?  Despairing  or 
not  despairing,  weeping  or  rejoicing,  it  is 
very  like  the  situation  of  Hagar  by  this 
well's  side — desolation  around  l)im,  a  thirsty 


soul  within  him,  death  coming  on,  and  yet 
within  one  step  of  him  salvation,  deliver- 
ance,  a  fountain  of  life,  comfort,  and  bless- 
edness. Well  may  God  speak  to  us  from 
heaven  and  say,  "  Why  will  ye  die  ?  Why 
will  ye  even  weep  ?  Here  are  all  my  glo- 
rious riches  spread  out  before  you,  and  you 
may  have  all  your  need  supplied  from  them 
as  freely  as  you  may  open  your  eyes  and 
take  in  the  lisiht." 


SERMON  XVIII. 

ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

THE  PRAYER  OF  CONTRITE  ISRAEL. 

Jeremiah  xiv.  7. — "  O  Lord,  though  our  iniquU 
ties  testify  against  ws,  do  thou  it  for  thy  name's 
sake." 

We  profess  to-day  to  be  humbling  our- 
selves before  our  God  for  our  transgres. 
sions.  Here  is  a  prayer  of  God's  afflict- 
ed  and  humbled  Israel.  May  he  him. 
self  incline  and  enable  us  to  take  it  as  ouj 
own  ! 

We  find  in  it,  first,  a  mournful  fact  ac- 
knowledged ;  then,  a  petition  offered  ;  and 
then,  a  plea  urged  why  this  petition  shoulo 
be  granted. 

I.  "Our  iniquities,"  says  the  prophet, 
"testify  against  us."  This  is  the  fact  h& 
acknowledges,  and  he  states  it  as  a  fact. 
He  does  not  mean  to  intimate  that  possibly 
it  may  be  so ;  he  means  that  certainly  it 
is  so,  and  that  he  and  his  companions  in 
affliction  feel  it  to  be  so. 

By  "  testifying  against  them,"  he  means 
bearing  witness  against  them.  The  ex- 
pression is  a  legal  one.  It  describes  our 
sins  as  rising  up  against  us,  coming  into 
court  with  us,  accusing  us,  declaring  and 
proving  us  guilty. 

And  the  prophet  says  this,  observe,  in 
the  name  of  the  church,  God's  own  church, 
and  that  while  she  knows  and  feels  her- 
self to  be  such  ;  not  in  some  moment  of 
depression  when  she  doubts  whether  she 
belongs  to  him  or  not,  but  at  a  time  when 
she  feels  sure  that  she  belongs  to  him,  and 
he  is  owning  her  as  his ;  for  she  addresses 
him  in  the  next  verse  as  her  "  hope"  and 
her  "  Saviour,"  and  in  the  verse  following 


THE  PRAYER  OF  CONTRITE  ISRAEL. 


85 


she  says,  "  Thou,  O  Lord,  art  in  the  midst 
of  us,  and  we  are  called  by  thy  name." 

Now  from  all  this  we  gather  that  even 
in  the  case  of  God^s  oitn  people,  sin  does 
not  pass  away  and  die  after  it  is  coinniitted, 
no,  nor  even  after  it  is  pardoned.  We  are 
apt  to  think  tiiere  is  an  end  of  it  when  the 
precious  blood  of  Christ  has  once  gone 
over  it ;  and  so,  in  one  point  of  view,  there 
is — that  sin  shall  never  separate  us  from 
God's  love,  shall  never  bring  us  into  final 
condemnation  ;  but  it  is  not  come  to  a  com- 
plete end  yet.  We  may  bury  it  and  for- 
get it,  but,  as  our  old  divines  often  say,  it 
is  buried  alive,  and  sooner  or  later  it  will 
rise  up  again  ;  it  will  meet  us  again  ;  we 
shall  see  it  coming  out  of  its  grave  a  living 
and  swift  witness  against  us. 

And  there  is  another  truth  contained 
here — the  sins  of  God's  people  bear  testi- 
mony against  them,  an  open  and  public 
testimony. 

They  witness  against  them  before  God. 
"  Thou  hast  set  our  iniquities  before  thee," 
says  the  psalmist,  "  our  secret  sins  in  the 
light  of  thy  countenance." 

And  they  witness  against  them  to  others. 
They  proclaim  them  to  the  whole  spiritual 
world  to  be  vile,  guilty  creatures,  unde- 
serving of  any  one  of  the  many  blessings 
they  are  receiving  ;  yea,  deserving  of  no- 
thing but  Jehovah's  utmost  abhorrence  and 
displeasure. 

And  our  sins,  the  prophet  intimates,  tes- 
tify against  us  at  times  to  ourselves  also. 
Besides  that  public  testimony  which  they 
are  always  giving  to  others,  there  is  a 
secret  testimony  thej.^  are  sometimes  bear- 
ing in  our  own  hearts.  And  this  appears 
to  be  the  leading  idea  in  the  prophet's 
words.  He  seems  to  have  had  in  his  mind 
at  this  time  an  unusually  deep  sense  of  his 
own  and  Israel's  rransgressiuns,  and  when 
he  speaks  of  their  iniquities  testifying 
against  them,  he  means  perhaps  mainly 
that  they  were  become  at  last  deeply  con- 
scious of  their  iniquities;  that  they  could 
not  deny  and  did  not  wish  to  deny  them  ; 
that  they  were  like  criminals  conscience- 
stricken,  obliged,  whether  tliey  would  or 
not,  to  plead  guilty  at  God's  bar,  to  own 
themselves  just  as  culpable  and  base  as 
their  sins  declared  them.  Mark  the  end 
of  the  verse.  The  church  there  bears  wit- 
ness against  herself.  Tiie  testimony  of 
her  sins,  she  seems  to  say,  is  true  ;  '•  Our 
backslidings  are   many;  we   have   sinned  j 


against  thee."  And  this  same  thing  is 
very  forcibly  stated  in  another  of  her  con- 
fessions ;  "  Our  transgressions  are  multi- 
plied before  thee,  and  our  sins  testify 
against  us  ;  ibr  our  transgressions  are  with 
us,  and  as  forour  iniquities,  we  know  them." 

And  there  is  something  else  to  be  re- 
marked— our  sins  are  peculiarly  apt  to  bear 
this  secret  testimony  against  us,  when  we  at- 
tempt to  draw  near  to  God. 

The  prophet,  you  observe  here,  is  pray- 
ing,  supplicating  divine  help  and  mercy  ; 
but  no  sooner  does  he  begin  to  do  so,  than 
sin  stares  him  in  the  face,  and  tells  him 
that  he  is  a  guilty  creature,  deserving  of 
no  help.  It  would  stop  his  mouth  if  it 
could,  but  though  it  cannot  do  this,  it  meets 
him  at  the  throne  of  grace  and  testifies 
against  him.  And  how  often,  brethren, 
have  our  iniquities  done  the  same  !  We 
have  gone  liither  and  thither,  been  engaged 
through  the  week  in  our  various  pursuits, 
and  have  Iiardly  once  remembered  perhaps 
that  we  are  guilty  ;  but  the  sabbath  has 
come.  "  Now,"  we  iiave  said,  "  we  will 
call  home  our  scattered  thoughts.  We 
will  turn  anew  to  our  half-forsaken  God. 
We  will  go  up  to  his  house,  and  hold  once 
more  some  blessed  communion  with  him." 
But  sin  meets  us  in  his  house,  or  probably 
before  we  get  tliere.  "  How,"  we  say 
tiien,  "  can  we  dare  to  draw  near  to  God  ? 
How  can  we  hope  for  any  mercy  from  him 
or  even  ask  for  it  ?"  The  sins  which  had 
been  lying  buried  through  the  week  in  the 
world's  bustle  and  the  world's  darkness, 
come  out  all  at  once  into  light  and  life, 
and  do  indeed  bear  witness  against  us. 
Like  criminals  whose  sins  have  just  found 
them  out,  so  are  our  souls.  Sin  has  found 
them  out.  It  startles  them.  It  alarms 
and  dismays  them.  A  sense  of  guili, 
shame,  and  self-loathing,  takes  possession 
of  us,  and  sometimes  well  nigh  breaks  our 
hearts.  Thus  was  it  with  the  pious  Ezra. 
"  O  my  God,"  he  says,  "  I  am  ashamed 
and  blush  to  lift  up  my  face  to  thee,  my 
God,  for  our  iniquities  are  increased  over 
our  head,  and  our  trespass  is  grown  up 
unto  the  heavens." 

You  see  now,  brethren,  the  class  of  per- 
sons this  text  brings  before  us.  They  are 
those  among  God's  servants,  who  feel  that 
their  sins  are  testifying  against  tliem  before 
heaven,  and  whose  consciences  tell  them 
they  can  scarcely  testify  against  them  \"0 
much.     They  are  self-accusing  men.  self. 


86 


THE  PRAYER  OF  CONTRITE  ISRAEL 


condomning  men,  and  self-abhorring  men. 
And  the  situation  in  which  it  places  them, 
seems  to  be  very  like  that  in  which  we 
now  stand  or  appear  to  stand — they  wish 
to  draw  near  to  God,  they  have  turned 
aside  from  the  world  for  supplication  and 
prayer.  Some  of  you  perhaps  see  a  very 
close  resemblance  between  yourselves  and 
these  men.  For  you  then,  doubtless,  or 
such  as  you,  this  text  was  written.  It  tells 
you  how  to  act.  It  says  to  you,  "  See 
what  these  contrite  believers  of  old  did 
when  conscience  smote  them  ;  and  you,  by 
God's  help,  must  this  day  do  the  same." 

II.  Look  at  the  prayer  they  offered.  It 
consists  of  three  words  only,  "Do  thou  it;" 
but  short  as  it  is,  we  may  find  something 
in  it  to  instruct  us. 

Observe  its  hiwible  loldness.  Under 
other  circumstances  there  would  be  nothing 
remarkable  in  this,  but  we  have  here  a 
prayer  offered  up  while  sin  is  accusing 
and  conscience  smiting.  It  is  not  adutifu'l 
child's  prayer  to  a  father  well  pleased  with 
it ;  it  is  a  criminal's  prayer  to  his  judge, 
and  that  at  a  time  when  there  are  ten  thou- 
sand voices  bearing  witness  against  him, 
and  his  own  conscience  is  telling  him  that 
all  they  witness  against  him  is  true.  It  is 
a  cry  for  mercy  when  all  within  him  and 
without  him  is  declarin,rr  that  he  merits 
vengeance. 

A  sense  of  sin  in  an  ungodly  man's 
heart  drives  him  from  God.  Such  is  its 
natural  tendency.  Our  first  parents,  as 
soon  as  they  had  sinned,  hid  themselves, 
we  are  told,  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord 
God  ;  and  from  that  hour  to  this,  every 
natural  man  no  sooner  says  within  him- 
self, "  I  am  guilty,"  than  he  says  this  also 
within  himself,  "  Would  that  there  were 
no  God  in  the  heavens,  or  that  I  had  no- 
thing to  do  with  him,  or  could  hide  myself 
from  him  !"  And  when  the  Spirit  of  God 
comes  in  and  renews  the  heart,  this  ten- 
dency of  sin  still  remains  in  us.  The  na- 
tural language  of  the  soul  still  is,  "  I  am 
vile,  and  must,  if  I  can,  get  out  of  God's 
sight."  Think  of  Peter.  By  means  of  a 
miracle  God  converts  him,  he  makes  him 
a  believer  in  Jesus  ;  and  the  first  thing 
the  man  does  is  to  wish  to  get  away  from 
this  merciful  Jesus,  even  from  the  very 
Being  \vl)om  he  now  sees  to  be  his  Messiah 
and  Saviour.  "  He  fell  down  at  Jesus' 
feet,"  he  called  him  Lord,  he  prayed  to 
him,  but  his  prayer  was  not,  "  Have' 


mercy 


on  me,  O  Lord,  thou  Son  of  David  ;"  it 
was,  "  Depart  from  me,  for  I  am  a  sinful 
man  !"  And  the  same  thing  goes  on  even 
in  the  case  of  the  experienced  Christian. 
When  our  iniquities  testify  loudly  against 
us,  when  we  feel  sin  brought  home  power- 
fully by  the  Holy  Spirit  to'our  consciences, 
"  There  is  an  end  to  prayer,"  we  are 
tempted  to  say  :  "with  all  this  guilt  and 
pollution  upon  us,  we  must  not  attempt  to 
go  into  God's  presence."  All  freedom  and 
confidence  in  our  approach  to  God  are  for 
the  time  at  an  end.  We  stand  afar  off", 
and  feel  that  there  we  ought  to  stand  and 
must  stand. 

Now  one  of  the  hardest  lessons  we  have 
to  learn  in  Christ's  school,  is  to  overcome 
this  tendency  in  sin  to  drive  us  from  the 
Lord.     I  do  not   mean  that  we  are  not  to 
feel  it,  for  that  is  impossible ;  but  we  are 
not  to  be  ruled  and   governed,  not  to  be 
driven  from  God,  by  \U     God,  as  he  is  re- 
vealed to  us  in  the  gospel,   is  the  sinner's 
God,  and  what  the   sinner  has  to  learn  in 
the  gospel  is,  that  as  a  sinner  he  may  draw 
near  to  him,  and  find  favor  with  him,  and 
be    accepted  by  him,    and  pardoned,  and 
loved.     We  are  then  in  a  right  frame  of 
mind,  not  when  we  are  saying,  "  We  are 
so  sinful  that  we  dare  not  pray;"  nor  yet 
when  we  are  saying,  "  We  are  believers  in 
Christ  Jesus ;   God  sees  now  no  sin  in  us, 
and   therefore   we  may  pray;"  but   then 
when  sin  is  crying  out  against  us  and  cry- 
ing out  within  us,  when  we  feel  ourselves 
more  base  than  words  could  tell,  and  are 
laid  low  as  the  dust  in  shame  and  self-ab- 
horrence ;  then  to  turn  to  God  and  feel  we 
may  turn  to  him,  then  to  come  boldly  to  his 
throne  of  grace  and  ask  mercy  and  grace 
of  him,   then    to  hope  in  him,  then  to  say 
with  this  prophet,   "  O  the  hope  of  Israel 
and   the  Saviour  thereof" — that,  brethren, 
is  the  right  position  of  a  believer  in  Jesus 
Christ,  and  a  position  in  Avhich  none  but  a 
believer  in  Jesus  Christ  ever  stood.    O  aim 
every  one  of  you   to  get  into  it.     If  your 
iniquities  are  testifying  against  you,  do  not 
aim  to  silence  their  voice  ;  let  no  one  ever 
make  you   believe  that   God  does  not  hear 
the  witness  they  bear,  and  that  you  need 
not  heed  it ;   but  aim  at  this — to  believe  all 
that  your  ^ins  say  against  you,  and  yet  in 
spite  of  it  all  to  seek  God's  mercy  and  trust 
in  it.     That  mercy  you    must  have ;  you 
cannot  do  without  it.     Let  your  language 
therefore  be,  '•  We  must  seek  it ;   we  nmst 


THE  PRAYER  OF  CONTRITE  ISRAEL. 


87 


obtain  it.  O  Lord,  thouijli  our  iniquities 
testify  against  us,  do  thou  it.  Sliow  us  thy 
mercy,  O  Lord,  and  grant  us  tliy  salva- 
tion." 

But  notice  anotlicr  feature  in  this  prayer 
— the  lowly  submission  it  manifests.  Our 
translators,  you  perceive,  have  added  a 
word  to  it — the  last  word.  It  stands  in  the 
original  simply,  "Do  thou." 

There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  next  to 
the  pardon  of  her  sin,  deliverance  from  her 
troubles  was  the  blessing  the  afllicted 
church  most  desired  at  this  time  ;  but  she 
does  not  ask  for  it.  Her  mouth  seems  sud- 
denly stopped  as  she  is  about  to  ask  for  it. 
She  feels  as  though  in  her  situation,  with 
her  enormous  sins  crying  out  so  loudly 
against  her,  she  must  not  dare  to  choose  for 
herself  any  blessing.  All  she  says  is,  "  Do 
thou.  Do  thou  something  for  us.  Interfere 
for  us.  Give  us  not  up.  We  will  bless 
thee  for  any  thing  thou  doest,  so  that  thou 
wilt  not  abandon  us."  Her  prayer  is  like 
that  of  the  troubled  Hezekiah,  "  Lord,  I 
am  oppressed ;  undertake  for  me  ;"  or  like 
that  of  David,  "  Do  thou  for  me,  O  God  the 
Lord." 

And  in  a  manner  like  this  does  every 
soul  pray,  that  is  deeply  contrite.  It  has 
boldness  enough  amidst  all  its  guilt  to  come 
to  God's  throne  and  to  keep  there,  but  be- 
yond this  it  has  sometimes  no  boldness  at 
all.  It  leaves  God  to  show  mercy  to  it  in 
his  own  way,  and  to  deal  with  it  after  his 
own  will.  It  shrinks  from  prescribing  or 
seeming  to  prescribe  to  him.  Besides,  it 
wants  so  much,  that  it  hardly  knows  what 
it  wants  most.  It  is  not  like  a  child  in  the 
midst  of  abundance,  well  clothed  and  fed, 
that  comes  to  his  father  to  ask  him  for  some 
gift  he  has  not  yet  bestowed ;  it  is  rather 
like  a  prodigal  who  comes  to  that  father's 
door  in  need  of  every  thing,  naked  and  hun- 
gry, worthless  and  guilty,  polluted  and 
loathsome.  It  feels  that  it  needs  every 
thing.  But  it  feels  too  that  if  its  heavenly 
Father  will  but  look  on  it,  will  but  pity  it, 
that  will  be  enough.  He  is  so  rich,  that  he 
can  give  it  all  it  wants  ;  and  so  bountiful, 
that  if  he  gives  it  any  thing,  he  will  keep 
back  nothing  which  will  do  it  good.  All  it 
desires  is  to  be  treated  as  his  child,  and  then 
come  what  may,  it  will  bless  him  for  it. 
Come  frowns  or  smiles,  come  stripes  or  ca- 
resses, it  is  thankful.  It  is  in  its  Father's 
house  and  its  Father's  hands,  and  that  con- 
tents it. 


III.  Let  us  pass  on  now  to  another  part 
of  the  text — the  plea  the  prophet  urges  in 
support  of  his  prayer. 

It  is  obvious,  brethren,  that  before  a  sin- 
ner, under  such  feelings  as  you  have  heard 
described,  can  venture  to  pray  at  all,  he 
must  have  discovered  some  strong  encou- 
ragement to  pray.  There  must  be  some- 
thing he  can  urge  in  his  behalf,  something 
he  can  appeal  to,  something  to  rest  his  sup- 
plications and  hopes  on,  and  this  of  a  very 
extraordinary  character.  Reason  could  not 
help  him  to  any  thing  of  this  kind.  It  might 
say  this  and  it  miglit  say  that  to  him,  but 
one  thought  of  the  divine  holiness  and  his 
own  guiltiness  would  soon  silence  it.  He 
would  feel  that  without  some  warrant  from 
God  himself,  it  is  one  of  the  most  unrea- 
sonable things  in  the  world  for  a  sinful 
creature  of  God  to  expect  any  favor  from 
him.  Some  of  you  may  not  feel  this,  but 
then  you  are  not  like-minded  with  the  men 
we  have  in  view.  Your  sins,  it  is  true,  are 
testifying  against  you,  but  you  are  scarcely 
aware  of  it.  You  call  yourselves  misera- 
ble sinners,  but,  alas !  you  know  little  or 
nothing  of  your  sinfulness  and  its  misery. 
Sin  is  with  you  a  trifling  evil,  and  any  thing 
in  the  shape  of  a  remedy  for  it,  any  thing 
that  pretends  to  be  a  remedy  for  it,  you 
deem  sufficient.  But  not  so  with  the  con- 
trite soul.  Sin  is  felt  by  it  to  be  a  fearful, 
enormous  evil  ;  and  it  must  have  something 
great  to  hope  in,  something  commensurate 
with  the  evil  itself,  before  it  can  look  for 
pardon  and  deliverance.  And  this  the  text 
points  out  to  us.  It  is  the  name  or  glory  of 
God  ;  "  O  Lord,  though  our  iniquities  testify 
against  us,  do  thou  it  for  thy  name's  sake." 

And  here  comes  before  us  one  of  those 
peculiar  truths  which  constitute  the  gospel 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  not  only 
true  that  God  is  in  himself  merciful  and 
gracious,  inclined  to  show  mercy  and  de- 
lighting  in  showing  it ;  this  also  is  true — 
the  exercise  of  his  mercy  towards  sinners 
through  his  Son  glorifies  him.  It  does  more 
than  manifest  and  display  his  perfections,  it 
so  displays  them,  that  it  brings  honor  to 
them  ;  it  manifests  them  most  gloriously. 
We  accordingly  find  him  declaring  to  his 
sinful  church,  "  I,  even  I,  am  he  tliat  blot- 
tcth  out  thy  transgressions  for  mine  own 
sake,  and  will  not  remember  thy  sins." 
"  Show  me  thy  glory,"  .said  IMoscs  to  him. 
"  This,"  said  God,  "  is  my  glory,  my  chief, 
my  highest  glory,  that  I  am  merciful  and 


THE  PRAYER  OF  CONTRITE  ISRAEL. 


gracious,  keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  for- 
giving iniquity,  and  transgression,  and  sin." 

Now  let  the  conscience-stricken  soul  be 
once  brought  to  understand  and  believe  this, 
and  it  finds  no  difficulty  in  supplicating  Je- 
hovah's mercy.  Its  vilencss  still  shames 
and  its  guilt  still  humbles  and  grieves  it  ; 
but,  "  Vile  and  guilty  as  I  am,"  it  says, 
"my  God  will  bring  no  dishonor  on  him- 
self by  showing  favor  to  me.  This  man  or 
that  man,  did  he  see  me  as  I  am,  would 
spurn  me  from  him  ;  he  would  deem  him- 
self disgraced  by  any  connection  with  me  ; 
but  be  I  what  I  may,  let  my  iniquities  tes- 
tify against  me  as  they  will,  let  my  fellow- 
men  despise  me  as  they  will  and  justly  de- 
spise me  too,  yet  I  have  this  to  comfort  me 
— I  have  only  to  ask  in  my  Saviour's  name 
for  mercy,  and  the  great  God  of  heaven 
can  honor  his  own  great  name  by  extending 
his  mercy  to  me ;  and  the  more  mercy  he 
shows  me,  the  more  he  honors  himself ;  the 
greater  the  kindness  I  receive  from  him,  the 
brighter  shines  forth  the  glory  of  his  grace." 
And  then  the  soul  casts  itself  in  all  the 
confidence  of  faith  on  God  its  Redeemer,  and 
neither  its  past  sins  nor  its  present  troubles 
can  shake  its  confidence  in  him.  It  has 
got  on  ground  which  it  feels  can  sustain 
its  weight.  It  is  sure  that  while  it  stands 
on  it,  nothing  can  hurt  or  move  it.  "  My 
God,"  it  says,  "  has  bound  up  his  own 
glory  in  my  salvation,  and  I  am  safe." 
And  then  it  lies  down  before  God,  and  says 
again  with  humble  boldness,  but  yet  with 
entire  submission,  "  Do  thou  for  me,  O  God 
the  Lord,  for  thy  name's  sake.  I  cannot 
do  for  myself.  None  other  can  or  will  do 
for  me  what  my  soul  needs.  But  thou  canst 
do  any  thing.  Thou  canst  do  above  all,  and 
exceeding  abundantly  above  all,  I  can  ask 
or  think.  O  glorify  thy  power  and  grace 
by  dealing  with  me  as  with  one  whom  thou 
lovest." 

This  prayer  then,  you  perceive,  is  more 
than  a  simple  prayer  for  mercy.  The  pub- 
lican's prayer  in  the  temple  was  that.  Any 
really  contrite  sinner  may  offer  it ;  he  will 
offer  it,  and  offer  it  often  even  to  his  dying 
hour.  But  the  prayer  before  us  implies  a 
considerable  degree  of  spiritual  knowledge, 
as  well  as  deep  contrition.  No  man  will 
offer  it,  till  he  is  become  well  acquainted 
with  the  gospel  of  Je.sus  Christ ;  till  he  has 
discovered  the  wisdom  and  glory,  as  well 
as  the  grace,  of  it,  and  imbibed  something 
of  its  spirit.     God   must  have   shincd    into 


his  heart  to  give  him  the  light  of  the  know, 
ledge  of  his  glory  in  the  face  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Naturally  we  think  nothing  about 
God's  name  or  glory,  we  care  nothing  about 
it ;  and  when  God  first  biings  us  to  him- 
self, we  can  think  of  little  else  than  our 
own  lost  condition  and  deliverance  from  it ; 
but  after  a  little  we  begin  to  know  God, 
and  love  God,  and  adore  God,  and  then  his 
glory  begins  to  have  a  place  in  our  minds. 
We  think  of  it;  we  delight  in  it.  We 
make  it  the  great  object  of  our  desires,  the 
great  end  of  our  actions,  and  one  great  sup- 
port of  our  hojies.  It  finds  its  way  now 
into  our  prayers.  We  learn  to  plead  it  be- 
fore God.  "  Hallowed  be  thy  name," 
ceases  to  be  the  mere  language  of  our  lips  ; 
we  long  for  his  name  to  be  hallowed  :  and 
now  when  we  say,  "  God  be  merciful  to 
me,  a  sinner,"  we  say  too,  and  say  it  natu- 
rally, "  Do  thou  it  for  thy  name's  sake." 

Brethren,  do  you  pray  thus  ?  You  are 
come  perhaps  into  God's  house  to-day  with 
an  accusing  conscience  and  a  troubled 
mind.  You  have  had  no  enjoyment  here, 
and  expect  to  go  away  without  a  blessing. 
Sin  has  appeared  to  bar  up  against  you  all 
access  to  God,  marred  all  your  devotion, 
chilled  and  damped  every  pleasurable  feel- 
ing of  your  souls.  And  you  would  say 
perhaps  that  it  has  often  been  thus  with  you, 
and  been  so  long  ;  that  you  cannot  help  it, 
and  scarcely  dare  try  to  help  it ;  you  are 
very  sinful,  and  must  be  content  to  be  com- 
fortless  if  not  wretched. 

Now  it  must  strike  you  at  once,  that  you 
are  not  acting  as  these  troubled  Israelites 
acted.  You  say  with  them,  "  Our  iniqui- 
ties testify  against  us,"  but  you  do  not  say 
with  them,  "  O  Lord,  do  thou  it  for  thy 
name's  sake."  You  have  learned  that  you 
are  sinners,  but  you  have  yet  to  learn  that 
sinners  such  as  you,  may  draw  near  with 
full  acceptance  to  the  throne  of  grace  ;  you 
have  yet  to  see  that  God  can  glorify  him- 
self in  pardoning  and  blessing  you.  Try 
to  learn  this  lesson.  If  you  caiuiot  under- 
stand how  it  can  be  so,  rest  on  God's  decla- 
ration that  it  is  so.  It  can  be  explained. 
We  can  find  a  reason  for  it  all  in  the  incar- 
nation, and  sufferings,  and  righteousness, 
and  continual  intercession,  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  I^iit  wait  fjr  no  explanation. 
God  has  told  you,  plainly  told  you,  that  he 
is  ready  to  blot  out  all  your  transgressions 
for  his  own  name's  sake.  Take  iiim  then 
on  his  own  terms.     Ask  him  for  his  mere 


CHRIST  TEMPTED  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


S9 


for  his  name's  sake.  Cry  out  with  the 
psalmist,  "  O  remember  not  ajjainst  us  our 
former  iniquities.  Help  us,  O  God  of  our 
salvation,  for  the  glory  of  thy  name.  De- 
liver and  purge  away  our  sins  for  thy 
name's  sake." 

This  is  a  plea,  brethren,  we  may  all  use. 
It  is  a  plea  which  suits  us  all.  It  requires 
no  worthiness  in  any  of  us  to  qualify  us  to 
make  use  of  it.  All  it  requires  is,  that  we 
should  acknowledge  and  feel  our  unworthi- 
ness  and  be  content  to  owe  our  pardon  and 
salvation  entirely  to  God's  free  goodness 
through  Jesus  Christ  his  Son.  It  is  a  plea 
too  which  he  himself  puts,  as  it  were,  into 
our  lips  :  we  could  never  have  thought  of 
it,  if  his  gospel  had  not  taught  it  us.  There 
is  no  possibility  then  of  such  a  plea  being 
rejected.  The  man  who  is  led  to  urge  it, 
has  been  instructed  by  God  himself  to  urge 
it ;  his  Holy  Spirit  has  given  birth  to  it  in 
that  man's  heart.  It  is  in  itself  an  evidence, 
if  any  were  wanting,  that  God  has  mercy 
in  store  for  him  ;  and  were  he  the  most 
sinful  of  us  all,  were  he  the  very  guiltiest 
trans'J-rcssor  on  the  earth's  surface,  there 
is  as  surely  mercy  in  God  for  him,  and 
plenteous  mercy,  if  he  will  but  seek  it,  as 
there  is  water  in  the  ocean  or  light  in  the 
sun. 


SERMON  XIX. 

THE    FIRST    SUNDAY    IN    LENT. 

CHRIST  TEMPTED  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

St.  Matthew  iv.  1. — "  Then  was  Jesus  led  up  of 
the  Spirit  into  the  wilderness  to  be  tempted  of 
the  devil." 


We  must  not  suppose  that  our  Lord  had 
never  been  tempted  before,  or  that  Satan 
never  tempted  him  again  after  this  time. 
It  is  probai)le  that  he  was  exposed  to  his 
attacks  all  his  life  long,  just  as  we  are. 
But  this  was  perhaps  a  more  severe  and 
trying  assault  than  usual,  or  it  may  have 
been  recorded  because  it  is  more  especially 
calculated  to  afford  us  instruction.  It  is 
instruction  we  must  seek  in  it :  useful, 
practical  instruction.  May  the  great  Teach- 
er of  the  church  vouchsafe  to  impart  it  to 
us! 

It  is  not  mv  intention  to  lead  you  through 
12 


the  whole  history.  The  circumstances 
mentioned  in  the  text  we  shall  find  suffi- 
cient for  our  present  meditation.  They 
are  four. 

I.  Notice  the  Person  tempted.  It  was 
Jesus,  the  holy  One  of  God  ;  clearly  the 
very  last  Being  in  existence,  whom  we 
should  have  supposed  Satan  at  all  likely  to 
tempt. 

See  here  then  Ihe  depth  of  our  Lord's 
abasement.  We  think  it  a  great  thing  for 
him  to  stoop  down  from  the  eternal  heavens 
to  the  manger  at  Bethlehem,  and  so  it  was ; 
none  but  he  himself  could  tell  how  great ; 
but  this  was  only  the  beginning  of  his  de- 
gradation. "  Being  found  in  fashion  as  a 
man,  he  humbled  himself"  We  must  re- 
collect that  he  is  the  holiest  Being  in  the 
universe,  as  well  as  the  greatest.  So  holy 
is  he,  that  "the  heavens,"  we  are  told, 
"  are  not  clean  in  his  sight,"  and  he  charges 
his  angels,  his  own  spotless  angels,  with 
folly.  To  stand  therefore  side  by  side  with 
this  base  fallen  spirit  ;  to  suffer  himself  lo 
be  led  hither  and  thither  at  his  will  ;  to 
allow  it  to  be  supposed  for  one  moment  by 
any  one  creature,  that  he  who  could  never 
tolerate  sin,  could  himself  be  prevailed  on  to 
commit  it ;  to  bear  the  vilest  of  all  crea- 
tures  to  say  to  him,  "Be  like  me,"  nay, 
"  Fall  down  and  worship  me" — O  what 
must  the  holy  Saviour  have  felt  in  such  an 
liour  as  this  ?  This  was  indeed  abasement. 
It  was  not  to  lay  aside  his  majesty,  but  to 
have  dishonor  done  to  something  he  values 
more — to  have  the  glory  of  his  holiness 
concealed  and  questioned. 

See  here  also  the  height  of  his  love.  We 
may  discover  this  in  the  depth  of  his  abase- 
ment. Whatever  he  submitted  to,  he  sub- 
mitted to  for  our  sakes.  Pie  became  in  the 
first  instance  poor  for  lis,  and  now  for  us 
he  consents  to  be  tempted. 

And  we  must  not  think  this  cost  him 
nothing.  "  He  suffered,  being  tempted." 
With  a  soul  like  his,  merely  to  dwell 
among  sinners  must  have  been  bitter  to  him. 
Lot  in  Sodom  was  miserable.  He  "  vexed 
his  righteous  soul,"  we  are  told,  "  day  by 
day  with  the  filthy  conversation  of  the 
wicked."  But  here  is  something  that  goes 
far  beyond  this.  Here  is  one  unutterably 
more  righteous  than  Lot,  not  only  dwelling 
among  the  pollution  he  abhors,  but  allow- 
ing the  creature  he  most  abhors,  lo  tempt 
him  into  pollution.  And  wherefore  di<^  be 
bear  this  ?     O  the  riches  of  his  love  !  that 


90 


CHRIST  TEMPTED  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


in  the  time  to  come  he  might  know  how  lo 
comfort  and  succor  his  tempted  people  ; 
that,  as  the  man  Christ  Jesus,  he  might 
know,  brethren,  how  at  this  moment  to  feel 
for  some  of  you.  "  It  behooved  iiim,"  the 
Spirit  says,  "  to  be  made  in  all  things  like 
unto  his  brethren  ;  for  in  that  he  himself 
hath  suffered  being  tempted,  he  is  able  to 
succor  them  that  are  tempted."  But  fur- 
ther— 

II.  Notice  the  part  which  God  took  in  our 
Lord's  temptation.  We  must  not  overlook 
this.  Each  of  the  three  evangelists  who 
record  the  event,  mentions  it.  "  Then 
was  Jesus,"  we  read  here,  "  led  up  of  the 
Spirit  into  the  wilderness  to  be  tempted." 
"  The  Spirit,"  St.  Mark  says,  "  drivcth  him 
into  the  wilderness."  "Being  full  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,"  says  Luke,  "  he  was  led  by 
the  Spirit  into  the  wilderness." 

It  is  clear  from  this  language  that  God 
was  in  some  way  concerned  in  tliis  transac- 
tion, and  wishes  us  to  know  that  he  was. 
The  question  is,  in  what  way  was  he  con- 
cerned in  it  ?  And  I  answer,  just  as  he 
afterwards  was  concerned  in  the  Redeem- 
er's crucifixion.  It  was  his  will  that  he 
should  be  crucified  ;  he  allowed  it ;  he 
placed  him  in  Jerusalem  among  men  who, 
he  knew,  would  crucify  him,  and  when 
there,  he  gave  him  up  into  their  hands.  So 
here.  It  was  his  will  that  he  should  be 
tempted,  and  how  does  he  act?  He  not 
only  says  to  the  powers  of  darkness,  "  There 
in  that  world  where  you  have  so  often 
triumphed,  there  in  that  kingdom  of  yours, 
is  my  beloved  Son,  and  you  may  try  him 
as  you  will ;"  but  he  appoints,  as  it  were, 
a  place  and  hour  for  his  trial  ;  he  places 
him  in  a  situation  that  laid  him  specially 
open  to  temptation.  "  The  conflict  shall 
take  place,"  he  says,  *-and  I  will  bring  to 
the  scene  of  it  my  holy  Son." 

And  just  so  the  Lord  deals  with  all  his 
sons.  He  himself  never  tempts  them  to 
evil,  but  he  allows  them  to  be  tempted  to 
evil  by  others;  and  more  than  this — he 
leads  them  into  circumstances  wherein  he 
knows  they  will  inevitably  be  tempted.  If 
we  inquire  as  to  our  duty  in  this  matter,  it 
is  plain.  It  is  to  keep  as  far  from  evil  as 
we  can.  Our  Master  teaches  us  this,  when 
he  bids  us  pray,  "Lead  us  not  into  tempta- 
don."  If  we  go  into  temptation,  we  are  to 
be  carried,  or  rather,  like  C'lrist,  to  be  driven 
into.it,  and  that  by  God.  But  when  there, : 
Vve  have  this  thought  to  comfort  us,  "  It  is 


my  God  who  has  brought  me  here.  I  see 
evil  approaching  me.  Would  thai  I  could 
get  away  from  it  !  My  soul  dreads  and 
ahliors  it.  I  do  indeed  suffer  under  it. 
What  would  I  not  give  to  escape  it  ?  But 
it  is  my  Father's  will  that  it  should  assail 
me.  He  has  sent  me  here  into  this  battle- 
field, and  as  long  as  it  pleases  him,  I  must 
stay  and  fight  in  it." 

None  but  the  godly  man  can  tell  the  com- 
fort there  is  in  having  another  to  guide  us 
in  all  things.  "  Led  by  the  Spirit"— this 
is  not  only  safe,  it  is  pleasant  to  the  soul. 
The  consciousness  that  it  is  led  by  him, 
gives  strength  and  courage  to  the  soul  in 
the  hour  of  conflict.  "  There,"  says  the 
general  to  his  soldiers,  "  mount  that  breach 
and  scale  that  wall."  The  men  will  do  it 
with  a  shout,  with  a  glistening  eye  and  a 
firm  tread  ;  and  why  ?  They  have  their 
general's  command.  They  would  have 
deemed  themselves  madmen  to  have  moved 
a  step  without  it. 

III.  Mark  now  the  time  of  our  Lord's 
temptation. 

This  also  is  particularly  pointed  out  in 
every  one  of  the  narratives.  We  shall 
find  in  it  two  circumstances  to  notice. 

1 .  It  was  immediately  after  God  had  put 
on  him  especial  honor.  "  Then,"  says  the 
text,  "  was  Jesus  led  up  into  the  wilder- 
ness" — when  ?  By  referring  to  the  fore- 
going chapter,  we  see  that  it  was  directly 
after  the  heavens  had  been  opened,  and  a 
voice  from  heaven  had  said,  "  This  is  my 
beloved  Son."  And  turn  to  St.  Mark.  Ht 
also  speaks  of  this  voice,  and  then,  in  the 
very  next  verse,  he  says,  "  Inmiediately 
the  Spirit  driveth  him  into  the  wilderness." 
And  St.  Luke  also  gives  the  same  account ; 
"  He  returned  from  Jordan,"  where  he  had 
been  so  honored,  "  and  was  led  il'ito  the 
wilderness." 

Now  it  may  .seem  strange  to  us,  on  the- 
first  view,  that  Satan  should  choose  an  houi 
like  this  for  his  great  attack  on  Christ ;  but 
Satan  had  often  attacked  others  in  such 
hours,  and  successfully.  When  did  Noah 
fall?  When  did  Lot'fall  ?  On  the  very 
days  in  which  God  had  delivered  and  hon- 
ored them.  The  enemy  took  them  in  the 
thick  of  their  mercies,  in  the  first  glow  of 
their  gratitude  and  joy,  and  laid  them  low. 
And  Paul  too  is  attacked  at  a  similar  time, 
though  not  mastered.  God  lifts  him  up  one 
hour  into  the  third  heaven;  the  next,  there 
is  a  messenger  from  Satan  buffeting  him. 


CHRIST  TEMPTED  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


91 


See  then,  brethren,  what  you  are  to  ex- 
pect. U  God  at  any  time  is  pleased  to  give 
you  some  peculiar  discovery  of  his  love, 
look  out  for  your  enemy.  There  is  proba- 
bly some  bitter  temptation  now  at  hand  for 
you  ;  and  the  Lord  may  have  sent  you  that 
mercy  to  strengthen  you  for  that  trial.  lie 
prepares  his  people  for  honor  by  first  abas- 
ing them,  and  it  is  his  way  also  to  -prepare 
them  for  conflict  by  refreshments  and  conso- 
lations. Besides,  Satan  knows  that  signal 
mercies  bring  signal  dangers  with  tiieni. 
Few  of  us  can  bear  them  without  being 
puffed  up  by  them,  or  taken  up  by  them. 
We  forget,  in  the  joy  they  give  us,  where 
we  are.  The  sun  shines,  and  we  think  it 
will  shine  forever  ;  we  prepare  no  more  for 
the  hurricane  and  the  storm.  It  was  so 
with  David  ;  "  In  my  prosperity  I  said,  1 
shall  never  be  moved."  And  when  it  is 
so  with  us,  "Now,"  says  Satan,  "is  my 
hour  ;  now  for  a  triumph."  He  cares  not 
how  many  mercies  or  joys  a  believer  has, 
so  that  he  can  but  find  him  self-confident 
and  secure. 

But  we  must  look  forward  as  well  as 
backward. 

2.  Our  Lord  was  tempted,  observe  again, 
just  before  he  entered  on  his  great  ministerial 
work.  As  long  as  he  abode  quietly  at 
Nazareth,  we  read  not  of  any  attack  on 
him;  but  the  instant  he  comes  into  public 
and  is  about  to  begin  his  ministry,  there  is 
Satan  by  his  side. 

And  if  any  thing,  brethren,  will  keep  the 
great  tempter  near  you,  it  is  his  seeing 
that  God  has  set  you  apart  for  some  signal 
service,  and  that  you  are  girding  up  your 
loins  to  enter  on  it.  We  wonder  that  this 
or  that  servant  of  God  is  so  much  assailed, 
has  so  much  internal  conflict  to  bear,  and  is 
so  ill-treated  and  reviled  in  the  world.  In 
almost  every  case,  wc  shall  find  that  the 
man  is  doing  much  for  God  or  attempting 
much  ;  at  all  events,  that  he  is  decided  for 
God.  Satan  attacks  him,  because  Satan 
fears  him.  Take  the  man  whom  the  world 
commends  and  admires,  with  whom  the 
assaults  of  the  tempter  are  matters  of 
mere  speculation  or  belief,  not  of  experi- 
ence ;  we  can  tell  at  once,  that  that  man 
will  never  storm  the  battlements  of  hell ; 
that  he  is  not  the  man  for  the  breach  or  the 
onset.  He  is  let  alone,  because  he  is  on 
the  tempter's  side  ;  or  if  not  so,  he  is  half- 
hearted, and  "  That,"  says  the  tempter, 
"  will  do  for  me  as  well."     We  who  are 


ministers,  see  and  feel  enough  of  this.  Pray 
for  us,  brethren — for  those  of  us,  who  are 
decided  on  God's  part  and  are  facing  the 
enemy,  that  we  may  not  be  high-minded 
but  fear  ;  and  for  tiiose  of  us,  wlio  are 
never  attacked  by  Satan  and  the  world, 
that  we  may  look  to  ourselves,  and  ask, 
"  How  is  this  ?  Why  do  those  who  so  per- 
secuted my  Master,  so  smile  on  me  ?" 

And  just  observe  how  a  mighty  God 
brings  good  out  of  evil  ;  how  he  makes 
Satan  work  against  himself.  "  There  is  a 
servant  of  the  living  God,"  says  that  evil 
one.  "  He  is  buckling  on  his  armor  and 
drawing  out  his  sword.  I  will  assault  him 
while  he  is  young  in  the  war,  and  scarcely 
looks  for  a  foe."  He  does  so;  and  what 
follows  ?  He  may  give  the  man  a  wound, 
but  his  very  assaults  help  to  qualify  the 
man  for  his  Master's  work.  The  conflict 
teaches  him  the  art  of  war.  He  learns 
from  it  the  way  to  victory.  It  makes  him 
feel,  as  nothing  but  painful  experience  can, 
his  own  weakness  :  and  it  brings  him  ac- 
quainted, as  notiiing  but  blessed  experience 
can,  with  his  Saviour's  strength.  A  foun- 
dation  is  laid  by  it  for  deeper  humility  and 
self-abasement,  and  that  constant  going  out 
of  ourselves  to  Christ,  that  leaning  on  Christ, 
which  can  fit  us  for  any  thing.  The  Cap- 
tain  of  our  salvation  was  prepared  for  his 
work  partly  in  this  wilderness.  If  I  may 
dare  so  to  speak,  Satan  instructed  him  while 
he  tempted  him.  And  so  is  it  with  every 
one  of  his  soldiers.  All  hell  may  put  forth 
its  power  against  them,  hut  every  etlbrt  it 
makes  against  them,  shall  in  some  way  oj 
other  be  overruled  for  their  good  and  Jeho- 
vah's honor.  This  song  sliall  at  last  end  the 
whole  matter,  "  We  are  more  than  conquer- 
ors through  him  that  loved  us."  "  Alleluia, 
for  tiie  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth." 

IV.  There  is  only  one  circumstance  more 
in  the  text  to  be  noticed,  and  that  is  the 
place  where  the  Lord  Jesus  was  tempted. 
It  was  in  the  wilderness  ;  and  not  there 
accidentally :  God  chose  this  as  the  scene 
of  his  temptation.  And  he  intends  us  to 
mark  that  he  did  .so,  for  here  again  he 
causes  all  the  evangelists  to  mention  the 
circumstance.  And  what  was  this  wilder- 
ness ?  It  was  a  place  of  solitude.  Our 
Lord  appears  to  Jiave  been  perfectly  alone 
in  it.  Hereby  then  we  are  taught  that 
solitude  is  not  necessarily  safity  ;  that  we 
ilo  not  get  out  of  Satan's  reach  when  we  get 
out  of  tlic  world's. 


92 


CHRIST  TEMPTED  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


If  there  is  any  one  thing  that  some  of  us 
need,  it  is  retirement.  We  are  living  in  a 
neighborhood  and  are  engaged  in  concerns 
which  leave  us  but  little  time  for  this,  and 
in  many  cases  less  inclination.  For  want 
of  this,  the  souls  of  some  of  us  are  half 
starved.  We  know  little  of  our  own  hearts, 
little  of  our  Bibles,  little  of  our  God.  And 
the  case  will  never  be  better  with  us,  till 
we  are  brought  to  say,  "  I  will  live  less  iii 
a  crowd.  This  craving  world  shall  have 
less  of  my  time  and  thoughts.  No  day 
shall  pass  over  me,  but  I  will  spend  some 
part  of  it  alone."  We  may  not  yet  have 
found  it  out,  but  it  is  a  fact — solitude  is  as 
needful  for  every  Christian  man,  as  public 
ordinances  or  public  prayer.  And  this,  I 
conceive,  we  are  taught  by  our  Lord's  ex- 
ample. "  There  will  be  enough  of  com- 
munion with  God  for  thee,  O  blessed  Jesus," 
we  might  have  said  to  him,  "  when  thy 
work  is  done.  Think  of  a  suffering  and 
perishing  world.  None  can  help  it  as  thou 
canst.  O  give  thyself  up  to  it.  Spare  it 
all  thy  strength  and  powers."  But  what  is 
his  answer  ?  He  begins  his  ministry  with 
forty  days  of  solitude,  and  in  his  most  ac- 
tive seasons  he  spends  hours,  ye>a,  whole 
nights  alone. 

But  while  all  this  is  true,  something  else 
is  true — solitude  is  dangerous  to  us  as  well 
as  necessary.  A  man  must  not  say  when 
he  gets  alone  for  an  hour,  "  I  have  shut  out 
the  world  and  am  now  for  a  little  while 
safe."  He  may  have  shut  out  the  world  ; 
but  there  is  a  worse  enemy  to  his  soul,  if 
possible,  than  the  world,  and  there  is  no 
shutting  of  him  out.  He  is  a  spirit,  and  as 
such  he  laughs  at  bolts  and  bars.  Go 
where  we  will,  he  follows  us.  Be  where 
we  may,  he  cleaves  to  us.  Like  God  him- 
self, he  is  about  our  bed,  and  about  our 
path,  and  spieth  out  all  our  ways. 

But  worse  still,  it  seems  to  be  Satan's 
way  to  be  especially  near  us,  when  no  one 
else  is  near  us.  As  long  as  we  are  mov- 
ing about  in  the  world,  he  leaves  the  world 
to  do  his  work  for  him.  "  I  may  let  them 
alone  now,"  he  says :  "  there  is  enough 
there  without  me  to  ensnare  and  pollute 
them."  But  when  we  get  alone,  we  get 
out  of  the  reach  of  his  worldly  ministers 
and  instruments ;  and  the  consequence  is, 
he  comes  and  supplies  their  place.  We 
have  to  wrestle  now,  not  against  flesh  and 
blood,  our  fcllow-men,  but  against  princi- 
palities and  powers,  mighty  angels.      We 


are  in  danger,  not  from  enemies  that  we  can 
see  and  understand,  but  from  enemies  that  1 

we  never  see,  that  we  cannot  understand,  \ 

that  are  as  subtle  and  strong,  as  we  are 
foolish  and  weak.  Where,  brethren,  have 
some  of  you  borne  the  severest  conflicts  ? 
And  where  have  you  sustained  the  most 
sad  defeats  ?  You  will  say,  "  In  our  cham- 
bers ;  on  our  beds  ;  alone.  The  world,  by 
God's  help,  we  can  generally  master  ;  but 
these  unseen  enemies  that  come  to  us  when 
alone,  that  tamper  with  our  polluted  imagi- 
nations, and  our  roving,  discontented,  re- 
bellious hearts — they  are  our  deadliest 
foes."  Noah  stood  upright  in  a  world  over- 
run with  wickedness  ;  he  fell  when  thnt 
world  was  destroyed,  in  his  own  solitary 
tent.  All  the  vile  men  in  Sodom  could  not 
corrupt  Lot,  but  Satan  met  him  on  one  of 
the  lonely  mountains  of  Zoar,  and  there 
brought  him  down. 

And  here  we  must  stop.  The  main 
thing  we  are  to  learn  from  what  we  have 
heard,  is  this — to  look  more  on  the  now  ex- 
alted Jesus  as  the  once  tempted  Jesus. 

You  remember  the  apostle's  prayer  for 
the  Ephesians — it  was  for  this  among  other 
things,  that  they  might ''  know  the  love  of 
Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge."  And 
how  is  this  love  to  be  knovirn  ?  Chiefly  by 
our  contemplating  one  by  one  the  various 
manifestations  of  it  he  made  in  his  flesh. 
His  wonderful  incarnation  and  his  bitter 
death  strike  us  at  once,  for  we  see  at  once 
our  own  interest  in  them,  and  the  immense 
sacrifice  they  cost  him  ;  but  to  be  tempted, 
to  hold  intercourse  with  unclean  spirits,  to 
walk  the  same  earth  with  them,  to  bear, 
whenever  they  chose  to  make  them,  their 
vile  attacks — this  does  not  at  once  arrest 
us,  but  here  was  in  reality  a  no  less  ama- 
zing display  of  the  Redeemer's  love.  The 
early  church  evidently  thought  so,  for  it 
set  apart  a  long  season  in  every  year  to 
commemorate  it ;  and  the  fathers  of  our 
own  church  thought  the  same,  for  they  have 
done  the  same.  These  things  are  not  su- 
perstitions, they  are  not  mistakes.  They 
had  their  origin  in  a  right  understanding  of 
gospel-truth,  and  an  ardent  love  for  our 
blessed  Lord.  Learn,  brethren,  as  these 
holy  men  of  old  learned,  to  study  liis  charac- 
ter in  every  discovery  and  manifestation  of 
it.  Think  of  him  in  the  wilderness,  as  well 
as  in  the  manger  and  on  the  cross.  Set 
him  often  before  you  as  your  tempted  Lord 
You  may  not  at  once  see  the  importance  of 


THE  SIN  OF  ISAAC  AND  HIS  FAMILY 


so  re^rardinu  him,  but  as  vou  jrrow  better  j  of  Abraham.     These  Isaac  lia-l  inherited 
lurinted  with  the   way  "to  heaven,  you  |  from  his  father,  and,  accordmg  to  the  usa- 


acqi 

will  do  more  than  see,  you  will  feel  it. 
There  is  many  a  conflict  for  you  before  you 
are  at  your  journey's  end.  If  you  are  led 
at  all  by  the  Spirit,  you  will  often  be  led 
by  him  into  the  wilderness  of  temptation  ; 
and  it  is  easy  to  say  what  will  bo  your 
main  comfort'there.  It  will  be  to  discover 
there  the  footsteps  of  your  Saviour.  Here 
in  this  gloomy  desert  my  Master  trod. 
Here  the'dark  powers  of  hell  troubled  him, 
as  they  are  now  troubling  me.  Here  he 
too  suffered,  being  tempted.  And  where  is 
he  now  ?  He  is  a  conqueror  on  a  conquer- 
or's throne.  And  what  does  he  say  to  me 
in  my  sufferings  and  temptations  ?  "  Be 
thou 'faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give 
thee  a  crown  of  life."  "  To  him  that  over- 
cometh,  will  I  grant  to  sit  with  me  in  my 
throne,  even  as  I  also  overcame,  and  am 
set  down  with  my  Father  in  his  throne." 


SERMON  XX. 

THE  SECOND  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 

THE  SIN  OF  ISAAC  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 

Genesis  xxvii.  12,  13.—"  /  shall  bring  a  curse 
upon  mc  and  not  a  blessing.  And  his  mother 
said  unto  him,  Upon  me  be  thy  curse,  my  son." 

That  man  must  have  a  strange  heart, 
who  can  read  this  chapter  unmoved.  A 
more  touching  narrative  was  never  penned. 
It  is  however  a  very  dark  page  of  God's 
holy  word.  Sin  and  the  punishment  of  sin 
fill  the  v/hole  of  it. 

I.  Look  at  Isaac. 

His  sin  lay  in  aiming  at  a  wrong  object- 
he  wanted  to  set  aside  the  will  of  God. 

The  beginning  of  the  chapter  represents 
him  to  us  "bowed  down  with  the  infirmities 
of  age,  and,  as  he  himself  supposes,  draw 
ing  near  to  the  grave.  In  this  situation,  he 
determines,  like  a  prudent  man,  to  settle  at 
once  an  important  worldly  concern.  This 
was  the  disposal  of  a  peculiar  blessing.  It 
consisted  partly  in  the  ordinary  birthright 
of  eastern  faniilies,  comprehending  a  title 
to  a  double  portion  of  the  father's  property 
and  a  limited  authority  over  his  other  chil- 
dren, and  partly,  in  this  case,  certain  spe- 
cial privileges  entailed  by  God  on  the  seed 


ges  of  the  east,  they  would  naturally  have 
descended  to  Esau  his  first-born  ;  but  God, 
in  his  sovereignty,  had  interposed  and  or- 
dered it  otherwise.  He  had  determined 
that  the  birthright  and  all  which  apper- 
tained  to  it,  should  go  to  Jacob,  the  younger 
son  ;  and  he  made  this  determination  known. 
Before  the  children  were  born,  he  said  to 
Rebekah,  "  The  elder  shall  serve  the 
younger." 

We  can  hardly  suppose  that  Isaac  had 
forgotten  this.  The  truth  seems  to  be,  that 
he  did  not  approve  of  it.  It  militated 
against  established  custom  and  against  his 
own  parental  feelings  ;  and  we  find  him, 
in  the  chapter  before  us,  attempting  to  set 
it  aside.  He  calls  Esau,  his  eldest  son,  to 
him,  and  bids  him  prepare  to  receive  from 
his  dying  hands  the  precious  blessing. 

Here  then  is  laid  bare  the  root  of  all  the 
mischief  this  chapter  details.  It  was  a  fly- 
ing out  on  Isaac's  part  against  the  divine 
sovereignty  ;  it  was  an  effort  to  frustrate 
the  decTared  will  of  God  ;  and  this  not  in 
an  ungodly  man,  not  in  one  just  brought  for 
the  first  time  to  Jehovah's  feet,  but  in  the 
aged  and  pious  Isaac,  the  son  of  Abraham  ; 
in  one  who  had  known  God  and  served 
God  more  than  a  hundred  years.  There 
is  nothing  more  difficult,  brethren,  than  for 
a  man  to  say  in  good  earnest  to  the  Lord, 
"  Thy  will  be  done."  Nothing  is  more 
common  even  among  his  own  servants, 
than  efforts  to  thwart  and  overrule  his  will. 
But  to  what  do  these  efforts  come  ?  This 
history  tells  us. 

Mark  the  punishment  of  Isaac.  It  waj 
two- fold. 

First,  his  object  was  defeated — Esau  lost 
the  blessing.  And  man  will  always  be 
defeated,  when  man  struggles  with  his  I\Ia- 
ker.  Success  may  appear  certain,  failure 
impossible.  He  may  be  allowed  to  go  on 
till  he  almost  wonders  at  his  own  boldness 
and  God's  passiveness  ;  his  hand  may  touch 
and  well  nigh  grasp  the  forbidden  object ; 
but,  "  My  counsel  shall  stand,"  says  Jeho- 
vah, "  and  I  will  do  all  my  pleasure."  He 
vindicates  his  authority  in  an  unexpected 
moment  and  by  unexpected  means,  and 
then  where  and  what  are  we  ?  Our 
schemes,  and  efforts,  and  hopes,  are  all  laid 
low  ;  and  worse  than  this— they  are  all 
turned  against  ourselves.  We  meant  to 
triumph   over    God,   but,   before   we   are 


94 


THE  SIN  OF  ISAAC  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 


more  es- 
on 


aware,  God  has  triumphed  over  us.  "  I 
will  pursue,  I  will  overtake,"  said  the 
haughty  Pharaoh,  "  I  will  divide  the  spoil." 
He  did  pursue,  he  did  overtake,  and  there 
stands  helpless  Israel  before  him,  in  appear- 
ance his  certain  prey  ;  but  look  again — 
that  prey  is  rescued,  and  there  roll  the  bil- 
lows of  the  Red  Sea  over  that  proud  Egyp- 
tian and  his  thundering  hosts.  The  Lord 
"  blew  with  his  wind,  the  sea  covered 
them  ;  they  sank  like  lead  in  the  mighty 
waters." 

And  so  was  it  here  ;  for  notice  another 
part  of  Isaac's  punishment — not  only  was 
his  object  defeated,  but  in  aiming  at  it,  he 
brought  much  sin  on  his  family  and  much 
anguish  on  himself. 

Nothing  comes  home  perhaps  more  keen- 
ly to  a  husband's  or  a  father's  heart,  than 
deception  in  those  he  loves,  and 
pecially  deception  which  is  practised 
•  himself.  It  sticks  fast  in  the  memory,  it 
stings  in  the  soul.  And  this  M-as  Isaac's 
portion.  An  insulted  God  did  not  at  once 
speak  to  him  from  heaven,  and  say,  "  This 
thing  must  not  be;  Esau  must  not  have 
that  blessing :"  he  suffered  sin  in  him  to 
lead  to  sin  in  Rebekah  and  Jacob,  and  then 
when  tliat  sin  is  consummated,  he  turns  to 
the  aged  patriarch  and  discovers  it  to  him. 
He  shows  him  in  the  same  moment  the  fail- 
ure of  his  hopes  for  Esau,  and  the  treach- 
ery of  his  wife  and  son. 

And  observe  the  effect  of  this  discovery 
on  him.  "  Isaac,"  we  are  told,  "  trembled 
very  exceedingly."  It  was  natural  he 
should  do  so.  Such  a  shock  must  have 
been  terrible  to  him.  Indignation  at  the 
imposition  practised  on  him  ;  so  much  sin 
committed  by  those  so  very  dear  to  him  ; 
the  precious  birthrigl)t  lost  to  his  beloved 
first-born  :  and  then  after  a  while  consider- 
ations of  another  nature — his  own  daring 
attempt  to  counteract  God  ;  the  evident  and 
awful  way  in  which  God  had  turned  that 
attempt  back  on  himself;  a  discovery  of 
the  folly,  and  self-will,  and  rebellion,  still 
remaining  in  his  own  aged  heart; — all 
these  things  must  have  rushed  in  on  his 
mind  in  quick  succession,  and  harrowed  it 
up  with  the  keenest  sorrow. 

Brethren,  you  and  I  must  expect  misery 
as  well  as  defeat,  when  we  oppose  the  will 
of  God.  The  Bible  says,  "  Wo  unto  him 
that  striveth  with  his  Maker,"  and  we 
must  calculate  on  finding  the  saying  true. 
It  is  not  the  mere  loss  of  the  desired  object, 


that  sin  brings  on  us ;  its  fruit  to  tne  child 
of  God,  is  shame,  and  humiliation,  and  an- 
guish. It  is  the  bitter  tear  and  the  secret 
groan.  It  is  the  oppressed  conscience  and 
the  troubled  heart.  It  is  restlessness  in 
prosperity,  darkness  in  trouble,  and  some- 
times  a  thicker  darkness  in  death.  To  be 
happy  in  Christ,  we  must  be  holy  in  Christ. 
We  must  draw  submission,  "self-denial, 
prostration  of  mind,  from  his  Spirit,  as  well 
as  pardon  from  his  blood. 

II.   We  may  turn  now  to  Rebekah. 
Her  sin  was  altogether  different  in  its 
character   from    Isaac's.      It  consisted    in 
aiming  at  a  right  object  by  sinful  means. 

She  well  knew  it  was  the  divine  will 
that  her  younger  son  should  inherit  the 
blessing.  God  had  told  her  so.  In  this 
arrangement,  she  perfectly  acquiesced. 
Her  feelings  went  with  it.  While  Esau, 
by  his  active,  manly,  and  in  some  respects 
useful  habits,  had  ingratiated  himself  with 
his  father,  Jacob,  it  seems,  domestic  and 
affectionate  in  his  character,  had  become 
her  favorite  ;  "  Rebekah  loved  Jacob." 
Besides,  her  judgment  must  in  this  case 
have  taken  part  with  her  feelings  on  God's 
side.  It  was  clear  that  her  favorite  son 
was  far  more  deserving  of  the  blessing,  than 
his  reckless  brother.  But  here  is  a  trial 
for  her — that  blessing  seems  about  to  be 
snatched  from  him.  Isaac  is  determined 
to  give  it  Esau,  and  in  an  hour  or  two 
Esau  is  coming  to  receive  it. 

Now  we  know  what  in  such  a  situation 
strong  faith  would  have  said — "I  must  go 
to  that  old  man's  side  ;  I  must  remind  him 
of  the  will  of  Jehovah  ;  I  must  beseech  him, 
with  all  the  earnestness  of  my  soul,  not  to 
sin  thus  against  God.  And  when  I  have 
done  this,  I  must  be  quiet ;  I  must  leave 
the  matter  in  God's  own  hands.  He  has 
promised  the  blessing  to  Jacob,  and  thouo-h 
Esau  were  now  kneeling  by  his  father's 
bed,  that  promise  shall  be  fulfilled  ;  (he 
blessing  shall  be  Jacob's."  But  this  exer- 
cise of  faith  was  too  much  for  this  weak 
mother.  She  looked  at  probabilities  and 
circumstances,  and,  afraid  to  leave  the  mat- 
ter to  God,  she  takes  the  management  of 
it  on  herself.  First  comes  distrust  of  God, 
and  then  come  fraud  and  deceit.  Here 
lay  her  error,  here  lay  her  sin,  in  thinking 
that  with  such  vile  things  as  these  she 
could  further  the  purposes  of  a  holy  God. 
Her  object  was  good ;  her  motive  was 
good  ;  what  could  be  better  ?     Her  object, 


THE  SIN  OF  ISAAC  AxND  HIS  FAMILY. 


95 


she  would  doubtless  have  said,  was  to  bring 
about  the  divine  will,  and  in  doing  so,  to 
keep  her  husband  from  a  daring  act  of 
disobedience ;  her  naotive,  a  wish  to  pre- 
serve the  blessing  of  God  for  one  to  whom 
God  had  promised  to  give  it — her  own  af- 
fectionate, dutiful,  pious  son.  If  there  was 
ever  a  case  in  which  crooked  means  seemed 
allowable  or  e.xcusable,  it  was  this.  But 
God,  brethren,  will  npt  bear  with  these 
things.  He  has  given  us  a  law,  and  no 
matter  what  our  circumstances  may  be,  he 
requires  us  to  obey  it.  We  may  say  that 
we  may  prevent  much  evil  or  do  much 
good  by  a  slight  transgression  of  it,  and 
God  in  his  omnipotence  may  overrule  that 
transgression,  as  he  overrules  all  things, 
to  further  his  own  holy  purposes,  but  sin 
lies  at  our  door  ;  that  act  of  ours  is  dis- 
pleasing and  hateful  to  him,  as  much  so 
as  though  nothing  but  evil  came  from  it. 
He  sees  in  it  a  contempt  of  his  authority, 
and  a  making  light  of  his  holiness. 

We  talk  sometimes  of  our  motives. 
Alas  !  there  is  no  bad  thing  which  has  not 
been  done  from  what  men  have  called  a 
good  motive  and  really  thought  one.  Look 
at  the  unconverted  Paul.  What  carried 
him  along  in  his  career  of  persecution  and 
cruelty  ?  "I  verily  thought,"  he  says, 
"  that  I  did  God  service."  And  what 
brought  about  at  last  that  most  awful  of  all 
man's  awful  crimes,  the  crucifixion  of  the 
Son  of  God  ?  Good  motives  still.  "  It  is 
expedient  that  one  man  should  die  for  the 
people,"  said  Caiaphas.  "  Tiiere  will  be 
a  tumult  if  I  do  not  condemn  this  innocent 
man."  said  Pilate.  And  had  those  savage 
Jews  been  asked  why  they  cried  out  for 
his  condemnation,  there  was  not' perhaps 
one  among  them,  who  would  not  have  said, 
"  The  honor  of  the  God  of  Israel  requires 
it."  God  did  indeed  glorify  himself  in  his 
death,  but  that  miserable  people  discovered 
at  length  that  a  sin  heavier  than  they  could 
bear  rested  on  their  heads.  A  man  of  God 
soon  learns  to  be  afraid  of  his  motives.  He 
is  afraid  of  every  thing  that  has  its  origin 
in  his  own  corrupt  heart.  He  looks  out 
of  himself  for  the  rule  of  his  actions  ;  he 
turns  to  the  divine  law  ;  he  reads  the  plain 
commands  of  a  holy  God  and  says,  "  I 
must  obey  them.  1  must,  and  by  God's 
help  I  will,  order  my  life  by  them.  I  will 
listen  to  no  carnal  suggestions  ;  1  will  break 
through  all  ensnaring  reasonings.  I  will 
not  ask,  when  thinking  of  any  measure, 


What  will  come  out  of  it  ?  will  it  do  good 
or  harm  ?  I  will  iirst  ask,  is  it  right  or 
wrong?  I  will  bring  it  if  1  can  to  the 
standard  of  God's  law,  and  if  that  con- 
demns it,  I  will  cast  it  aside.  It  is  one  of 
the  works  of  darkness,  and  I  will  never 
employ  it  in  the  service  of  a  God  of  purity 
and  liglit." 

Tlie  punislwicnt  of  Rebekah  may  appear 
slight,  and  yet  to  a  fond  mother  like  her,  it 
must  have  been  deeply  painful.  The  curse 
was  indeed  on  her,  and  it  came  in  a  form 
she  little  anticipated — she  lost  tlie  son  for 
whom  she  had  plotted  and  sinned.  Iiidig- 
nant  at  the  wrong  done  him,  Esau  resolves 
to  revenge  himself  on  his  brother,  and  to 
screen  Jacob  from  his  violence,  Rebekah  is 
obliged  to  send  him  into  a  distant  land.  It 
appears  certain  that  for  more  than  twenty 
years  afterwards  she  never  saw  him  ;  the 
probability  is,  that  she  never  saw  him 
again.  And  what  has  she  at  home  to  com- 
fort her?  A  deceived,  injured  husband, 
an  irritated,  resentful  .son.  How  often  in 
her  lonely  musings  must  she  have  mourned 
over  her  folly,  and  wondered  that  she  had 
not  discovered  sooner  the  righteousness  of 
her  God ! 

Her  example  speaks  plainly  and  solemn- 
ly also  to  all  who  are  parents  amongst  us. 
It  tells  us  that  children  are  easily  led  into 
sin.  Deceit  and  falsehood  are  bound  up 
in  the  heart  of  every  child  that  breathes, 
and  it  is  as  easy  to  call  them  into  action 
as  to  get  their  tongues  to  speak  or  their 
feet  to  move.  It  is  easy  also  to  find  mo- 
tives that  seem  good,  for  prompting  the  lie, 
or  sanctioning  the  lie,  or  concealing  the 
lie ;  but  as  surely  as  there  is  a  God  living 
in  heaven,  the  evil  we  prompt  or  encourage 
or  tc^prate  in  our  children,  will  come  down 
in  the  end  on  our  own  heads.  The  curse 
of  it  will  be  on  us.  The  blow  may  at  first 
strike  others,  but  in  the  end  it  will  recoil 
on  ourselves.  Our  poor  children  may 
themselves  sting  us  to  the  quick  ;  or  if  not 
so,  the  hand  of  God  may  be  on  them.  We 
may  see  in  their  undoing  at  once  our  own 
punishment  and  our  own  sin. 

111.   Let  us  turn  now  to  Jacob. 

The  instant  we  look  at  him,  we  are 
struck  with  this  fact,  that  the  nearer  a 
man  is  to  God,  the  more  God  is  displeased 
with  any  iniquity  he  sees  in  him.  and  the 
more  openly  and  severely  he  punishes  it. 
Of  all  this  family,  Jacob  was  the  most  be- 
loved by  him,  but  yet,  as  far  as  regards 


96 


THE  SIN  OF  ISAAC  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 


this  world,  he  appears  to  have  sufTcrcd  from 
this  transaction  the  most  bitterly. 

His  sin  was  of  a  complicated  character. 
To  a  hasty  observer,  it  might  appear  light. 
Certainly  much  might  be  said  in  palliation 
of  it.  He  was  not  first  in  the  transgres- 
sion. The  idea  of  it  did  not  originate  with 
him.  His  feelings  revolted  at  it  when  it 
was  proposed  to  him.  He  shrunk  from 
it.  He  remonstrated  against  it.  Besides, 
it  was  a  parent  who  urged  him  on,  a  fond 
and  tender  motlier.  And  w^e  must  remem- 
ber too,  that  all  those  motives  which  led 
Rebekah  to  form  this  plot,  would  operate 
also  in  Jacob's  mind  to  lead  him  to  execute 
it.  It  was  furthering  the  will  of  God,  it  was 
saving  a  father  from  sin.  "  The  object  is 
good,"  he  might  say,  "  and  is  not  my  mo- 
tive good  ?"  He  accordingly  falls  in  with 
the  scheme,  and  Satan  carries  him  through 
it.  One  sin  makes  way  for  another  ;  one 
sin  impels  him  to  commit  another.  False- 
hood comes  after  falsehood  in  quick  suc- 
cession, till  at  last,  with  a  fearful  hardi- 
hood, he  employs  the  name  of  God  himself 
to  aid  his  deceit. 

Let  young  persons  see  here  what  a  sin- 
gle deviation  from  truth  can  do.  In  one 
short  hour,  it  made  the  pious  Jacob  appear 
and  act  like  one  of  the  worst  of  men.  It 
is  just  as  able  to  debase  you.  God  has 
put  a  special  curse  on  this  thing.  All  sin 
entangles,  but  none  like  falsehood.  There 
is  hardly  any  escape  from  it.  To  fall  into 
it  is  like  getting  on  a  slippery  declivity — 
we  know  notwhen  or  where  we  shall  stop. 
No  matter  who  instigates  you  to  this  sin, 
no  matter  what  good  end  is  to  be  answered 
by  it,  you  are  no  more  justified  in  practis- 
ing it,  than  in  committing  theft  or  murder. 
The  crime  may  not  be  as  great,  but  it  is 
a  crime  equally  forbidden  by  God,  and  his 
indignation  against  it  is  as  sure. 

Beware  too  of  trifling  with  conscience. 
Jacob  was  not  blind  to  the  criminality  of 
the  act  he  was  committing.  He  speaks 
only  of  the  danger  of  it,  but  it  is  very  evi- 
dent that  there  was  something  within  him, 
which  told  him  of  its  guilt.  "  I  shall  bring 
a  curse  on  me  and  not  a  blessing" — when 
conscience  says  that  to  you,  stand  still. 
You  are  getting  into  some  dangerous  path. 
Listen  no  more  to  the  voice  that  calls  you 
on  ;  look  not  at  the  pleasure  or  profit  that 
you  expect  to  arrive  at.  Turn  back.  Be- 
take yourselves  to  prayer.  Conscience  is 
a  poor  guide,  but  it  is  a  perilous  thing  to 


go  anywhere  without  its  sanction  ;  it  is  a 
fearful  thing  to  wound  it  by  entering  on  any 
course  it  condemns. 

Again  :  have  you  an  affectionate  heart  ? 
Then  watch  over  it.  Such  a  iieart  Jacob 
had.  It  was  one  great  beauty  of  his  natural 
character,  and  it  was  also  one  of  his  great- 
est snares.  He  owed  to  it  all  through  life 
i  much  of  his  sin  and  much  of  his  suffering. 
To  this  source,  1^ conceive,  his  crime  on 
this  occasion  may  be  traced.  He  can  hardly 
be  thought  a  selfish  man.  If  left  alone,  he 
would  never  perhaps  have  practised  deceit 
to  aggrandize  himself.  No  ;  his  mother's 
fondness  had  laid  a  strong  hold  of  his  affec- 
tion, and  he  consequently  did  not  know  how 
to  resist  her  persuasions  or  give  her  pain. 
It  might  be  too  that  her  society  and  indul- 
gence had  done  him  harm.  While  they 
kept  alive  and  strengthened  his  feelings, 
they  had  probably  weakened  his  princi- 
ples. If  we  have  a  heart  like  his,  we  are 
not  to  crush  it,  we  are  not  to  harden  it  or 
attempt  to  harden  it,  but  we  must  watch  it. 
It  is  a  dangerous  thing  to  carry  about  with 
us  in  such  a  world  as  this.  Every  man 
has  need  to  keep  his  heart,  and  "  with  all 
diligence"  too,  but  of  all  men,  he  has  the 
most  need  to  keep  it,  who  has  a  heart  that 
can  feel  and  love,  and  endure  almost  any 
thing  itself,  rather  than  let  another  bear  a 
pain.  Such  a  heart  has  only  to  be  prayer- 
less  or  careless  for  a  while,  and  it  will 
bleed  with  some  unlocked  for  and  perhaps 
long  lasting  wound. 

As  for  the  punishment  of  Jacob's  sin,  we 
must  read  the  history  of  his  life  to  see  the 
extent  of  it.  It  followed  him  almost  to  his 
dying  hour. 

He  was  successful  in  his  treachery ;  it 
obtained  from  his  deceived  father  the  de- 
sired birthright :  but  what  fruit  had  he  from 
his  success  ?  We  might  say,  none  at  all, 
or  rather  he  sowed  the  wind  and  he  reaped 
the  whirlwind.  His  fears  were  realized ; 
he  did  bring  a  curse  on  him  and  not  a  bless- 
ing. In  the  first  instance,  he  becomes  an 
outcast  from  his  home  and  country.  He 
then  endures  hardships  in  Laban's  service, 
to  which  he  had  before  been  a  stranger. 
And  when  he  began  to  think  perhaps  that 
the  indignation  of  the  Lord  against  him  was 
spent,  an  imposition  was  practised  on  him, 
which  must  have  brought  liis  sin  with  all 
its  bitterness  anew  into  his  mind — he  labors 
seven  years  for  Rachel,  and  in  the  hour 
when  he  thinks  she  is  his  own,  he  discovers 


THE  SIN  OF  ISAAC  AND  HIS  FAMILY. 


97 


that  she  is  not  his  own  ;  another  has  been 
palmed  on  him  in  her  stead.  He  becomes 
at  last  a  parent,  and  tlicn  God  speaks  out. 
Mischief  springs  up  in  his  own  family.  De- 
ception follows  deception  there,  blow  suc- 
ceeds to  blow  on  that  poor  sutloror's  head, 
till  his  ffray  hairs  are  well  nigh  brought 
down  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  For  more 
than  fifty  years  he  reaped  the  bitter  fruits 
of  this  one  sin.  Mercy  indeed  did  not  for- 
sake him.  The  Lord  was  witli  him  all  the 
way  he  went,  and  blessed  him  ;  but  while 
with  one  hand  he  poured  out  blessings  on 
him,  with  the  other  he  scourged  him.  And 
this,  brethren,  was  a  man  of  God,  a  con- 
trite, praying,  pardoned  sinner.  Where 
will  your  sins  bring  you  if  they  are  never 
pardoned,  if  you  live  and  die  in  your  trans- 
gressions ?  One  sin,  one  pardoned  sin,  {)ar- 
doned  as  regards  eternity,  tinged  the  wliole 
of  Jacob's  life  with  misery — consider  that 
fact,  and  then  ask  yourselves  whether  sin  is 
not  a  greater  evil  in  God's  sight  than  you 
ever  thought  it.  Pray  that  you  may  not 
have  to  learn  its  fearfulness  for  the  first 
lime  in  a  future  world. 

IV.  We  come  now  to  the  case  of  Esau. 

As  we  read  the  narrative  of  the  treache- 
ry practised  against  him  and  his  affecting 
conduct  under  it,  we  are  ready  perhaps  to 
regard  him  as  an  injured  rather  than  a 
guilty  man.  We  look  in  vain  for  any  sin 
committed  by  him  ;  we  can  see  in  him 
much  to  pity  and  nothing  to  blame.  But 
there  is  a  scene  in  the  past  history  of  this 
man,  which  throws  a  new  light  on  this  trans- 
action. We  have  only  to  turn  to  it,  and  we 
see  at  once,  in  his  bitter  disappointment, 
the  fruit  of  transgression,  the  just  though 
tardy  indignation  of  a  holy  God. 

According  to  the  custom  of  the  east,  the 
birthright  of  his  family  was  originally 
Esau's.  He  regarded  it  as  his  own.  Now 
turn  to  the  twenty-fifth  chapter  of  this  book, 
and  see  what  value  he  set  on  it.  We  soon 
see  that  he  set  no  value  at  all  on  it.  Alive 
to  the  present  and  reckless  of  the  future,  he 
preferred  to  it  the  momentary  gratification 
of  a  sensual  appetite.  "What  profit,"  he 
said,  "  shall  this  birthright  do  to  me  ?"  and 
then  he  threw  it  away  to  his  brother  Jacob 
for  a  mess  of  pottage.  "  For  one  morsel  of 
meat,"  St.  Poul  says,  "  he  sold  his  birth- 
right ;"  and  for  this  act  he  brands  him  as 
"  profane."  It  would  have  been  a  rash  act 
if  his  father's  lands  and  fiocks  had  been  all 
this  birthright  contained,  but  there  were  di- 
13 


vine  blessings  included  in  it ;  and  here  was 
a  treating  of  those  blessings  and  of  the  God 
who  was  the  giver  of  them,  with  contempt. 
"  He  despised  his  birthright" — that  was  his 
sin  ;  he  lost  his  birthright — that  was  his 
punishment ;  and  it  was  a  just  punish- 
ment ;  he  only  lost  that  on  whicii  he  set  no 
value.  Base  were  the  means  employed  at 
this  time  by  Rebckah  and  his  brother  to 
secure  it  from  him,  but  how  much  more 
base  must  that  heart  have  been,  which  could 
at  any  time  have  so  willingly  parted  with 
such  a  treasure  !  O  that  his  baseness  were 
not  so  true  a  picture  of  our  own  ! 

We  too  have  a  birthright,  one  so  precious 
that  houses  and  lands,  all  the  silver  and  gold 
the  earth  contains,  are  as  dross  in  compari- 
son with  it.  There  are  blessings  lield  out 
to  every  one  of  us,  blessings  put  at  tiiis  mo- 
ment within  our  reach,  which  ought  to  make 
the  heart  of  every  one  here  burn  as  he  hears 
of  them — the  pardon  of  sin,  reconciliation 
with  heaven,  adoption  into  God's  family, 
everlasting  life  and  blessedness  in  his  pre- 
sence ;  not  Canaan,  not  a  land  flowing  with 
milk  and  honey  on  earth,  but  a  kingdom  in 
heaven,  a  world  bright  with  the  glory  of  an 
incarnate  God  and  overflowing  with  his 
joy.  And  how  are  we  treating  this  birth- 
right ?  How  are  we  acting  with  refer- 
cnce  to  these  blessings  ?  Many  of  us  are 
selling  them  for  naught ;  forgetting,  un- 
dervaluing, despising  them ;  suffering  the 
business  and  cares  and  vexations  of  life, 
its  short-lived,  paltry  pleasures,  to  rob  us 
of  them  all. 

Look,  brethren,  at  Esau's  feelings  when 
the  man  at  last  came  to  himself.  The  bless- 
ing was  gone,  irrecoverably  gone  ;  his  fa- 
ther told  him  so;  and  then,  says  the  history, 
"  when  Esau  heard  the  words  of  his  father, 
he  cried  with  a  great  and  exceeding  bitter 
cry,  and  said  unto  his  father.  Bless  me, 
even  me  also,  O  my  father."  And  then 
again,  "  Esau  said  unto  his  father,  Hast 
thou  but  one  blessing,  my  father  ?  Bless 
me,  even  me  also,  O  my  father.  And  Esau 
lifted  up  his  voice  and  wept."  And  what 
was  the  result  of  all  this  weeping  and  sup- 
plication  ?  "  Ye  know,"  says  St.  Paul, 
"  how  that  afterward,  when  he  would  have 
inherited  the  blessing,  he  was  rejected  ;  for 
he  found  noplace  of  repentance,  though  he 
sought  it  carefully  with  tears." 

Need  I  remind  you,  brethren,  of  another 
scene  of  weeping  and  wailing,  of  bitterness 
and  despair?     O   may   a  God  of  mercy 


JACOB  AT  BETHEL. 


.it  that  you  may  tremble  as  you  think 
1  it ;  that  you  may  seek,  and  seek  at  once, 
in  a  great  and  willing  Saviour,  deliverance 
from  its  woes  !  The  God  we  have  been 
contemplating  to-day  as  a  God  of  judgment, 
is  also  a  God  of  grace  ;  of  grace  so  abun- 
dant, that  lie  is  ready  to  blot  out  forever 
the  iniquity  he  hates,  yea,  the  iniquity 
which  for  a  while  he  punishes.  He  par- 
doned Isaac,  he  pardoned  Jacob,  pardoned 
them  even  while  chastising  them.  They 
are  now  as  happy  in  heaven  and  as  pure  as 
heaven  can  make  them.  He  has  made 
known  a  way  by  which  he  can  as  com- 
pletely pardon,  deliver,  and  eternally  bless 
you.  And  what  does  he  ask  at  your  hands 
in  order  to  obtain  this  pardon  and  this  sal- 
vation ?  Tears,  and  repentance,  and  ef- 
forts ?  All  these  will  come,  will  assuredly 
come  with  these  mercies,  but  for  the  ob- 
taining of  these  mercies,  he  asks — what  1 
Shall  I  say,  nothing?  He  himself  says, 
nothing.  He  says  indeed  one  minute,  "  He 
that  believeth,  shall  be  saved,"  but  what 
does  he  say  the  next  ?  "  Come  and  take 
my  salvation  freely.  It  is  as  water  to  the 
man  perishing  in  the  desert ;  it  is  refresh- 
ing as  wine  and  milk  to  the  fainting  travel- 
ler; but  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  it, 
take  it  without  money  and  witliout  price." 

One  word  to  you,  brethren,  who  know 
the  value  of  this  birthright,  who  have  sought 
and  obtained  an  interest  in  its  promises. 
This  history  reminds  you  of  the  real  cha- 
racter of  the  world  you  are  living  in  ;  it  is 
a  tempting,  ensnaring,  treacherous  world. 
It  reminds  you  too  of  the  real  character  of 
your  own  hearts.  If  they  are  not  profane 
like  Esau's,  they  are  as  self-willed  as 
Isaac's,  as  distrustful  as  Rebekah's,  as 
weak,  as  false,  as  little  able  to  withstand 
temptation,  as  Jacob's.  You  see  here  also 
the  real  character  of  God.  This  history 
tells  you  that  he  is  a  holy  God,  so  holy  that 
he  will  not  pass  over  a  single  act  of  sin  even 
in  his  dearest  saints.  You  feel  as  you  read 
it,  that  he  would  not  suffer  the  highest  an- 
gel in  heaven  to  trifle  with  him.  And  what 
is  the  conclusion  to  which  you  are  to 
come?  "Let  others  be  light-hearted,  we 
must  pray.  Let  others  boast,  we  must  fear. 
We  must  cleave  to  Christ,  our  Saviour,  as 
though  heaven  and  hell  depended  on  our 
holding  him  fast." 


SERMON    XXi. 

THE    THIRD    SUNDAY    IN    LENT. 
JACOB  AT  BETHEL. 

Genesis  xxviii.  16,  17 — "And  Jacob  awaked  out 
of  his  sleep,  and  he  said,  Surely  the  Lord  is 
in  this  place,  and  I  knew  it  not.  And  he  was 
afraid,  and  said.  How  dreadful  is  this  place  ! 
This  is  none  other  but  the  house  of  God,  and 
this  is  the  gate  of  heaven." 

The  discoveries  God  made  of  himself  to 
his  servants  of  old,  were  not  intended  for 
them  only  ;  his  servants  in  all  ages  have 
an  interest  in  them.  Were  it  not  so,  he 
would  never  have  recorded  them  for  us  in 
his  everlasting  word.  Do  we  read  there 
that  he  appeared  in  a  flame  of  fire  to  Moses 
in  the  wilderness,  and  to  Isaiah  on  a  throne 
of  majesty  in  the  temple  ?  For  our  sakes, 
we  may  say,  did  that  flame  burn,  and  for 
us  was  that  high  throne  lifted  up  And 
the  same  in  this  case.  There  rests  on  his 
pillow  of  stones  the  sleeping  Jacob,  but  the 
same  eye  that  is  watching  him,  is  looking 
at  the  same  moment  far  beyond  him.  It  is 
penetrating  into  future  ages.  It  sees  other 
travellers  struggling  along  one  after  another 
the  wearisome  road  appointed  them ;  and 
"  The  vision,"  says  God,  "  wherewith  I 
will  comfort  Jacob,  shall  be  ibr  their  com- 
fort also.  The  remembrance  of  it  shall 
not  pass  away.  I  will  speak  to  my  trou- 
bled people  by  it  through  all  generations." 
May  he  speak,  and  speak  effectually,  by  it 
from  his  holy  place  this  day  to  you  ! 

I.  The  first  circumstance  we  must  no- 
tice, is  the  time  ivlien  this  discovery  of  God  to 
Jacob  was  made. 

It  was  in  a  season  of  distress. 

Intervening  years  may  have  dimmed  the 
memory  of  it,  but  some  of  us  can  still 
recollect  the  hour  when  we  first  left  our 
father's  house,  and  found  ourselves  in  a 
strange  world  alone.  Our  feelings  in  that 
hour  were  probably  sorrowful  feelings. 
They  were  Jacob's  now.  He  had  just  left 
his  father's  house,  or  rather  had  been  driven 
from  it,  and  here  he  is  at  the  close  of  his 
first  day's  journey  without  a  friend  or  a 
home.  A  town  indeed  is  near,  where  he 
may  find  a  lodging,  but  too  sick  at  heart 
probably  to  mingle  with  thi>  crowd  of  it, 
lie  stops  outside  it,  and  maiv-'js  the  open  air 
his  lodging.  "  He  took,"  we  read,  "  of 
the  stones  of  that  place,  and  put  them  for 
his  pillows,   and  lay  down   in  that   place 


JACOB  AT  BETHEL. 


99 


10  sleep."  Rut  here,  in  the  .stillness  of  the 
night,  comes  One  and  breaks  in  on  his 
solitude.  •'  That  poor  outcast  shall  not  lie 
there  alone,"  says  God.  "  My  ani^els  shall 
go  down  to  him  ;  yea,  I  myself  will  go, 
and  I  will  comfort  him."  Then  Jacob 
dreams,  and  the  Lord  is  revealed  to  him. 

It  is  a  blessed  loneliness,  brethren,  that 
brings  God  near  us  ;  and  it  is  a  happy 
allliction,  that  discovers  him  to  us.  You 
complain  perhaps  that  he  is  never  visible 
to  you  ;  that  you  have  been  longing  for 
years  to  get  a  sight  of  him  as  your  God, 
and  have  never  had  one.  And  what  sight 
of  him  had  Jacob  while  at  home  and  at 
ease  ?  We  read  of  none.  It  is  when  he 
enters  on  a  path  of  tribult-tion,  tiiat  he 
meets  his  God ;  and  when  God  leads  you 
into  such  a  path,  he  will  meet  you  in  it. 
Sometimes,  as  here,  he  manifests  himself  to 
his  people  at  the  beginning  of  their  afflic- 
tion ;  at  other  times,  as  in  Job's  case,  not 
till  the  close  of  it ;  but  it  matt(M's  not — he  is 
with  his  people  all  through  their  aflliction, 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  it,  and  be- 
fore they  are  out  of  it,  they  generally  see 
his  face. 

This  vision,  observe  also,  was  sent  to 
Jacob  just  after  he  hadfalkn  into  a  grievous 
sin.  A  few  days  only  had  passed  since  he 
had  cruelly  deceived  his  father  by  imposing 
himself  on  him  for  Esau.  He  was  now 
flying  from  Esau's  resentment.  And  bit- 
ter indeed  at  this  hour  must  have  been  his 
feelings.  "  This  is  my  own  work,"  he  must 
have  said.  "  This  banishment  from  all  on 
earth  that  is  dear  to  me,  I  could  bear,  did  it 
come  upon  me  without  any  fault  of  mine; 
but  to  lie  here  in  tliis  wretchedness  of  my 
own  creating,  and  to  think  as  I  lie  here  of 
the  injured  brotlier  I  have  left  behind  me, 
and  tlie  fond  mother  I  may  never  see  again, 
and  my  kind-hearted,  indulgent,  forgiving 
father,  in  whose  dying  pillow  I  have  planted 
so  many  thorns — O  wretch  that  I  am,  how 
can  1  bear  this?  Where  can  I  turn  for 
consolation  ?  IIow  can  I  ever  know  peace 
again  ?  Those  stars  above  me  seem  peace- 
ful as  ever.  They  shine  the  same  as  when 
Igazed  on  them  from  Beersheba  beside  my 
herds  and  flocks  ;  but  O  how  changed  am 
I !"  But  see  the  abundance  of  Jehovah's 
mercy.  Sin  generally  .separates  between 
us  and  God.  "  Though  walking  before  in 
the  light  of  his  countenance,  it  rises  up  as 
a  cloud  before  us,  and  hides  him  from  our 
siglit.     It  is  not  in  sin,  it  is  in  stlf-denial, 


and  obedience,  and  active  service,  that  he 
conmionly  reveals  himself  to  his  people. 
On  earth,  as  in  heaven,  when  his  servants 
serve  him,  they  see  his  face.  But  he  is  a 
'  sovereign  God  and  a  marvellously  gracious 
God  ;  and  sometimes,  in  the  majesty  of  his 
[  sovereignty  and  to  lay  open  to  us  the  un- 
thought  of  riches  of  his  grace,  he  will  pass 
by  for  a  moment  the  servant  who  is  serv- 
ing him,  and  cause  his  face  to  shine  on 
some  unworthy  transgressor  ;  not  indeed  in 
his  transgression,  but  when  he  begins  to 
feel  the  smart  of  his  transgression,  and  his 
i  heart  is  breaking.  The  elder  brother  in 
the  parable  is  in  appearance  forgotten  ; 
there  runs  the  father  to  meet  and  embrace 
the  wretched  younger  one. 

We  know  not,  brethren,  the  freeness  of 
that  love  which  God  bears  to  the  penitent. 
Its  freeness  does  not  show  itself  in  words 
and  promises  only,  it  is  to  be  seen  in  his 
ways.  What  was  there  in  Jacob  at  this 
time  to  draw  forth  any  display  of  his 
love  ?  And  yet  this  love  does  display  itself. 
It  comes  forth  as  though  it  could  not  keep 
itself  back  ;  with  a  speediness  and  a  ten- 
derness  which  may  well  amaze  us.  In 
the  first  night  of  his  trouble,  the  sinner  is 
comforted,  and  the  comfort  he  gets  .is  a 
vision  of  Jehovah.  This  is  like  the  singling 
out  of  the  weeping  Peter  to  receive  the 
tidings  of  his  Master's  resurrection.  "  Tell 
all  my  disciples  of  it,"  says  Christ,  "  but 
Peter  especially.  He  is  in  bitterness  of 
soul  for  denying  me,  and  I  am  in  haste  to 
comfort  him."  And  never  is  comfort,  never 
is  any  mercy,  so  sweet  to  the  soul,  as  the 
mercy  that  comes  when  we  look  for  judg- 
ment. It  is  the  torn  heart,  that  feels  the 
healing  power  of  God's  hand  ;  it  is  the 
stricken  heart,  that  understands  what  is 
meant  by  the  tenderness  of  his  love. 

We  may  now  take  another  view  of  this 
divine  manifestation. 

II.  Consider  the  ends  to  he  answered  hj  H. 

It  consisted  partly,  you  remember,  of 
something  seen  by  Jacob,  and  partly  of 
something  heard  by  him. 

What  he  saw  was  a  ladder  communica- 
ting between  the  earth  and  heaven.  "  lie 
dreamed,  and  behold  a  ladder  set  up  on 
the  earth,  and  the  top  of  it  ret^chcd  to  heav- 
en  ;  and  behold  the  angels  of  God  ascend- 
ing and  descending  on  it ;  and,  behold,  the 
Lord  stood  above  it." 

One  design  then  of  this  vision  certainly 
was,  to  give  Jacob  at  this  lime  a  lively  im. 


100 


JACOB  AT  BETHEL. 


pression  of  the  ])resence  and  providence  of 
God,  his  universal  presence  and  ever  ac- 
tive providence. 

Tiiougli  not  what  we  should  now  call  a 
young  man,  yet  we  may  fairly  consider 
him  as  such,  for  having  hitlierto  been  living 
in  the  quiet  of  Isaac's  family,  he  was  alto- 
gether an  inexperienced  man  ;  he  was  only 
just  now,  as  we  say,  beginning  the  world, 
and  becoming  practically  acquainted  with 
its  changes  and  troubles.  His  life  too  was 
to  be  a  very  eventful  one.  It  was  God's 
intention  to  lead  him  through  many  varied 
scenes,  and  some  of  them  very  trying  and 
mysterious.  His  future  comfort,  therefore, 
and  welfare  required  that  he  should  have  a 
peculiarly  strong  conviction  of  God's  con- 
stant, universal  presence  and  overruling 
providence. 

And  observe  how  the  Lord  expounds,  as 
it  were,  this  vision  to  him,  and  makes  a 
particular  application  to  him  of  the  truth 
it  shadows  forth.  He  speaks  as  though 
that  ladder  were  placed  between  heaven 
and  earth  for  his  sake  only ;  as  though  it 
were  for  him  only  that  he  kept  watch  above 
it.  "  Behold,"  he  says,  "  I  am  with  thee, 
and  will  keep  thee  in  all  places  whither 
thou  goest.  I  will  not  leave  thee."  And 
thus  the  Lord  reveals  to  us  what  we  call 
his  particular  providence  over  his  servants. 
Will  any  one  deny  this  ?  Will  any  one 
say  that  an  all-seeing,  infinite  God'  cannot 
watch  over  one  of  the  creatures  he  has 
formed,  more  than  another  ?  We  will  not 
dispute  the  point.  We  will  only  say  that 
this  infinite  God  has  promised  to  watch  over 
us.  Wherever  we  are,  he  declares  that 
he  sees  us  ;  he  tells  us  he  is  with  us  ;  he 
assures  us  he  cares  for  us  ;  he  pledges 
himself  to  keep  us.  We  have  his  love  and 
faithfulness  to  ensure  his  care  of  us,  as 
well  as  his  infinity  and  omniscience.  "  The 
eye  of  the  Lord,"  we  read,  "is  upon  them 
that  fear  him  ;"  it  "  runs"  over  others,  it  is 
fixed  on  them.  He  may  fill  all  space  with 
liis  presence,  but  "  he  encampeth,"  he  says, 
"  round  about  them  that  fear  him."  Where 
the  lonely  Jacob  was,  his  God  was.  While 
Jacob  sleeps,  his  God  wakes,  and  wakes  for 
him  ;  and  "This  God,"  we  may  say,  "is 
our  God  forever  and  ever.  He  that  kcep- 
eth  us,  will  not  slumber." 

But  God  had  another  design  in  this  vision. 
It  was  intended  to  renew  and  confirm  to  Ja- 
cob the  promises  fie  had  given  him. 

Some  of  us  know  well  how  far  olT  sin 


can  put  a  promise  from  lis.  Those  very 
declarations  of  God,  that  were  once  a  sup- 
port and  delight  to  us,  it  can  make  almost 
a  terror.  "  We  have  nothing  to  do  with 
them  now,"  we  say  ;  "  we  have  forfeited 
the  blessings  they  speak  of.  It  is  painful 
to  us  to  think  of  them."  And  such,  we 
may  conceive,  were  now  Jacob's  feelings. 
They  must  have  been  his  feelings,  if  he 
thought  at  all  seriously  of  his  conduct  and 
his  situation. 

Before  he  was  born,  the  Lord  had  prom- 
ised him  the  blessings  of  the  birthright.  He 
doubtless  knew  of  this  promise  ;  but  the 
unlawful  means  he  had  taken  to  secure  its 
accomplishment,  seemed  to  have  forever 
defeated  it.  There  was  Esau  on  the  spot, 
ready  as  soon  as  his  father  should  die  to 
seize  on  the  inheritance,  while  he  was  going 
as  a  fugitive  into  a  distant  land.  And  as 
for  the  higher  and  spiritual  blessings  of  the 
birthright,  how  could  he  any  longer  hope 
for  them  ?  He,  the  treacherous  deceiver 
of  his  own  father,  to  be  the  father  of  a 
nation  ;  and  that  nation,  God's  peculiar 
people  on  the  earth  !  and  the  Messiah  to 
come  from  him  !  and  all  the  families  of  the 
earth  to  be  blessed  in  him  !  "  It  cannot 
be,"  he  must  have  thought.  "  I  said  be- 
fore  I  committed  that  crime,  I  shall  bring  a 
curse  on  me  and  not  a  blessing ;  and  the 
curse  is  come.  I  am  now  an  outcast.  The 
God  of  my  fathers  has  changed  his  purposes 
concerning  me.  Never  will  this  land  be 
mine.  Never  shall  I  even  see  it  again. 
No  holy  Saviour  can  sjjring  from  me. 
Never  shall  any  descendants  of  mine  rise 
up  and  call  me  blessed.  O  what  have  i 
lost,  and  lost  forever  !  I  shall  go  down  to 
the  grave  a  cast  off,  miserable  man."  But 
what  docs  that  ladder  say  ?  "  No,  not 
cast  off.  Even  in  your  guilt  and  misery, 
the  Lord  is  looking  on  you,  his  angels  have 
still  a  charge  over  you."  And  what  does 
God  say  wlien  God  speaks  ?  Strange  that 
it  should  be  so,  but  he  renews  to  this  guilty 
man  all  the  promises  he  had  ever  given 
him.  Nothing,  he  says,  had  even  yet  been 
forfeited  ;  no  change  had  taken  place  in 
his  sovereign  purpose ;  no  blessing  Jacob 
•had  ever  looked  for,  should  be  kept  back. 
Canaan  shall  be  his  ;  "  The  land  whereon 
thou  licst,  to  thee  will  I  give  it  and  to  tb ;• 
seed."  A  mighty  nation  shall  spring  from 
him ;  "  Thy  seed  shall  be  as  the  dust  of 
the  earth,  and  thou  shalt  spread  abroad  to 
the  west,  and  to  the  east,  end  to  the  norch, 


JACOB  AT  BETHEL. 


101 


and  to  the  south."     And,  better  than  all, 
the  world's  Saviour  shall  conic  from  him  ; 
"  In  thee  and  in  thy  seed  shall  all  the  fami- 
lies of  the  earth  be   blessed."     "  And  be- 
liold,"  he  adds,  "  I  am  with  thee,  and  will 
keep  thee  in  all  places  whither  thou  goest, 
and  will   bring  thee  again  into  this  land  ; 
for  I  will  not  leave  thee,  until  I  have  done 
that  which  I  have  spoken  to  thee  of."     O 
marvellous   grace !     Four   times   over   in 
narrating  it  does  the  sacred  historian  inter- 
pose the 'word   "Behold,"    as   though    he 
could    not    suppress  his  admiration.     The 
mind  however  almost  shrinks  as  it  contem- 
plate»s  such  grace  as  this.     We  can  scarce- 
ly deem  it  real ;  and  though  real,  we  seem 
afraid  to  make  any  use  of  it.    "  It  is  grace," 
we  say,  "  that  we  must  stand  still   and  ad- 
mire,  not  grace  that   we  may  encourage 
ourselves  in."     But  why  is  this  grace  ex- 
hibited to  us  ?     Why  was  this  history  writ- 
ten ?     Why  is  it  lying  open  to-day  before 
you  and  me  ?     O  brethren,  here  is  exactly 
the  grace  which  you  and  I  w^ant ;  and  this 
historv  was  written  to  let  us  see  that  there 
is  this  grace  in  the  God  we  have  sinned 
against," and  in  him  for  us.     He  is  a  mag- 
nificent  God,   glorious    not  only   "  in  the 
greatness  of  his  strength,"  but  in  the  splen- 
dor of  his  mercy  ;  surpassing  all  our  ex- 
pectations in  the  one,  as  much  as  he  rises 
above    all    our   conceptions   in    the  other. 
Look  at  him  here.     Neither  the  efforts  nor 
the  sins  of  man  can  frustrate  his  purposes. 
"  Jacob  shall  not  have  the  promised  bless- 
ing," says  Isaac  ;  "  it  shall  go  to  Esau." 
"  I  shall  turn  it  into  a  curse,"  says  Jacob. 
But  there  on  high  sits  the  Lord  God  omni- 
potent, and  what   are  Isaac's  words  or  Ja- 
cob's   fears    to   him?     His   purposes    still 
stand  fast  as  ever,  and   he  will   do  all  his 
pleasure.     He   lets  old  Isaac  see  that  it  is 
useless  to  strive  against  him  ;   lie  opens  the 
heavens  and  says  to  the  guilty  Jacob,  "  The 
blessing  still  is  yours.     I  am  with  thee,  and 
I  will  not  leave  thee  until  I  have  done  that 
which  I  have  spoken  to  thee  of." 

Will  any  one  ask  what  becomes  all  this 
time  of  God's  holiness  ?  Let  him  read  the 
history  of  Jacob  through,  and  see.  Never 
was  there  in  any  man's  life  a  plainer  exhi- 
bition of  God's  hatred  of  sin.  He  followed 
iiini  almost  to  his  dying  day  witli  his  rod. 
While  he  forced  him  to  sing  of  mercy,  he 
almost  broke  his  heart  with  his  judgments. 
"  Few  and  evil,"  said  he  in  his  old  age, 
"  have  been  my  days."     We  must  never 


be  afraid,  bre.hren,  to  look  at  God  as  God 
exhibits  himself.  It  will  be  in  the  end  no 
dangerous  exhibition.  We  may  let  him 
lay  bare  his  mercy  as  he  pleases  ;  he  knows 
how  to  keep  the  contrite  .soul  from  abusing 
it  ;  and  where  he  most  unveils  his  goodness, 
he  will  sooner  or  later  unveil  the  most  of 
his  holiness.  Think  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 
Where  does  mercy  shine  forth  in  the  splen- 
dor wnin  which  it  shines  there  ?  and  where 
at  the  same  time  does  the  justice  and  where 
the  holiness  of  God  appear  so  aw  ful  ?  And 
think  of  what  men  arc.  It  is  not  any  high 
conceptions  of  God's  mercy,  tliat  they  make 
us  dread  for  them  ;  it  is  their  low  concep- 
tions of  God  altogether  ;  their  petty  notions 
of  all  his  perfections,  and  their  strange,  total 
blindness  to  his  glory.  Could  we  raise 
your  view  of  one  of  his  attributes,  we  should 
raise  your  view  of  all.  The  sight  of  his 
lofty  mercy  would  soon  open  your  eyes  to 
a  sight  of  his  equally  lofty  holiness.  You 
would  never  say,  "  We  see  too  much  of 
that  mercy  ;"  you  would  rather  say,  "  We 
could  not  "bear  to  see  less.  O  that  he  would 
show^  us  more  !" 

III.  But  let  us  go  on  to  notice  the  effects 
produced  on  Jacob  by  this  heavenly  vision. 

The  first  of  these  was  just  what  we  might 
have  expected — a  sense  of  God's  presence  ; 
a  new,  startling  sense  of  it.  "  Surely," 
he  said,  "  the  Lord  is  in  this  place,  and  I 
knew  it  not."  And  again  ;  "  This  is  imne 
other  but  the  house  of  God,  and  this  is  tlie 
gate  of  heaven." 

We  all  profess  to  believe  in  God's  pres- 
ence. Were  we  asked  one  by  one  at  this 
moment  whether  God  is  here,  we  sliould 
unhesitatingly  answer.  Yes.  We  learned 
this  truth  in  our  early  chihihood,  and  from 
that  period  to  this  we  have  never  doubted 
it.  But  what  place  has  it  held  in  our  minds 
all  this  time  ?  What  has  been  its  influence 
and  daily  effect  there  ?  Many  of  us  must 
acknowledge  that  it  has  existed  in  our  minds 
as  a  mere  notion,  that  it  produces  in  us  no 
effect  at  all.  Wo  have  felt  this  day  in  this 
house  of  God  as  we  should  have  felt  if  the 
God  of  this  house  were  blind,  or  those  doors 
had  shut  him  out.  Now,  brethren,  this 
wondering  Jacob  lets  you  see  tiiat  there  is 
a  sense  of  God's  presence,  such  as  you 
have  never  experienced.  It  difff-rs  from 
chat  belief  in  it  which  you  have,  as  much 
IS  a  living  thing  (Mffers  from  a  dead  one. 
It  is  active,  impressive,  powerful.  It  docs 
not  say,  "  God  is  here,"  and  then  leave  the 


102 


JACOB  AT  BETHEL. 


soul  to  feel  as  though  he  were  away  ;  it 
makes  us  feel  as  though  we  saw  him  here, 
and  held  converse  witli  him. 

And  the  way  in  which  we  get  this  sense 
of  God's  presence,  is  generally,  as  in  this 
case,  from  some  discovery  of  God's  good- 
ness to  ourselves.  No  dream  or  vision  of 
the  night  produces  it,  but  God  meets  us,  it 
may  be,  in  an  hour  of  afHiction  or  sorrow, 
and  makes  such  disclosures  of  iiis  love  to 
us,  speaks  such  comfort  to  our  hearts 
through  the  declarations  of  his  word,  or  puts 
such  strength  into  our  hearts  to  bear  our 
troubles,  or  sends  us  by  his  providence  such 
unlocked  for  relief  under  them,  that  the 
soul  can  no  more  doubt  his  presence  with 
it,  than  it  can  doubt  hs  own  existence.  We 
feel  las  presence,  and  we  feel  it  as  a  new- 
thing.  The  church  we  are  in,  our  house, 
our  chamber,  becomes  to  us  as  the  house 
of  God  and  the  gate  of  heaven.  O  to  un- 
derstand more  of  this  !  O  to  walk  through 
the  world  as  though  the  Lord  were  walk- 
ing through  it  by  our  side !  In  order  to 
this,  we  must  pray  for  brighter  visions  of 
his  glory  ;  we  must  seek  a  closer  acquaint- 
ance with  him ;  we  must  study  his  char- 
acter more  in  the  manifestation  he  has  made 
of  it  in  his  gospel  and  in  his  Son. 

This  vision  produced  fear  also  in  Jacob. 
"  He  was  afraid,"  we  read.  "  How  dread- 
ful," he  said,  "is  this  place!" 

And  yet  why  should  Jacob  fear  ?  No 
spectacle  of  terror  has  been  presented  to 
him.  No  words  of  wrath  have  been  ad- 
dressed to  him.  There  has  appeared  no 
visionary  mount  Sinai  flaming  and  shaking 
before  him.  All  he  has  seen  and  heard 
has  spoken  to  him  of  peace.  We  might 
liave  expected  him  as  he  waked  to  have 
sung  with  joy.  What  a  change  since  he 
laid  himself  down  on  those  stones  to  sleep  ! 
The  evils  he  most  dreaded,  all  averted  ; 
the  mercies  he  mourned  over  as  lost,  all 
restored.  Happy  must  his  sleep  have  been, 
and  happy  now  his  waking  !  But  not  one 
word  do  we  read  here-  of  happiness.  The 
Holy  Spirit  tells  us  only  of  Jacob's  fear. 
And  why  ?  To  impress  this  truth  on  our 
minds,  that  the  man  who  sees  God,  never 
trifles  with  him  ;  that  the  soul  he  visits  and 
gladdens  with  his  mercy,  he  always  fills 
with  an  awe  of  his  majesty.  Turn  in  this 
book  to  any  manifestation  of  him  you  can 
find  here — with  hardly  an  exception,  the 
man  to  whom  it  is  made,  tremljlos  before 
lum.      When  any  ellect  produced  by  it  is 


mentioned,  fear  is  mentioned,  or  something 
allied  to  fear.  Do  you  wonder  at  this, 
brethren  ?  Do  you  want  an  explanation 
of  it  ?  Angels  do  not.  The  redeemed  in 
heaven  do  not.  The  men  on  earth,  who 
are  really  seeing  God  and  rejoicing  in  his 
salvation,  do  not.  "  Fear,"  they  say,  "  we 
do  ;  fear  -we  must ;  nay,  fear  we  would. 
It  is  a  happy  fear  that  fills  our  hearts. 
There  is  no  torment  in  it.  Nothing  pain- 
ful gives  birth  to  it.  It  springs  from  the 
nearness  to  us  of  the  God  who  loves  us  j 
from  the  view  we  have  of  the  power  that 
blesses  us  ;  from  the  sight  vouchsafed  us 
of  the  lioliness  that  bears  with  us ;  from 
the  vastness  we  see,  the  length  and  breadth 
and  depth  and  height,  in  the  grace  that 
saves  us.  Our  fear  comes  not  from  the 
terrors  of  the  Lord.  Towards  us  he  has 
laid  all  those  terrors  by.  We  have  an 
Advocate  with  the  Father ;  there  is  a  Me- 
diator between  God  and  us,  the  Man  Christ 
Jesus.  We  fear  the  Lord  and  his  good- 
ness. Our  fear  comes  from  the  excellency 
of  the  Lord  shining  forth  in  the  goodness  of 
the  Lord.  It  springs  from  the  magnifi- 
cence of  that  goodness.  There  is  forgive- 
ness with  him,  he  tells  us,  that  he  may  be 
feared  ;  and  we  feel  it  must  be  so.  If  we 
rejoice  at  all,  we  must  rejoice  with  trem- 
bling. Let  those  who  are  far  from  God, 
cast  off  the  fear  of  God,  we  cannot ;  we 
are  too  near  him.  "  God  is  greatly  to  be 
feared  in  the  assembly  of  his  saints,  and  to 
be  had  in  reverence  of  all  them  that  are 
round  about  him."  Is  this  your  language 
brethren  ?  Can  you  understand  it  ?  Then 
you  understand  what  nothing  but  experi- 
ence could  explain  to  you.  Your  past  vis- 
ions of  God's  mercy  have  not  been  delu- 
sions. They  may  be  gone  ;  no  more  may 
be  left  to  you  of  them,  than  was  left  to  the 
waking  Jacob  of  his  dream  ;  you  may  be 
unable  to  recall  them  ;  but  this  holy  fear 
is  left,  and  bless  the  God  of  all  grace  that 
it  is.  Those  visions  were  sent  to  work  il 
in  you  ;  and  there  may  it  abide,  a  token  of 
God's  spr'cial  favor  to  you,  till  it  ends  in  the 
brighter  vision  and  deeper  fear  of  heaven. 
Notice  yet  one  effect  more  of  this  scene 
— a  desire  in  Jacob  to  render  something  to 
the  God  who  had  so  visited  him.  And  this 
seems  to  have  risen  up  in  his  mind  as  soor. 
as  he  awoke,  and  to  have  been  an  exceed- 
ingly strong  desire.  There  is  nothing  he 
can  do  now  for  God,  but  ho  sets  up  a  me- 
morial of  God's  loving-kindness  to  him,  and 


JACOD  RETURNING  TO  BETHEL. 


103 


binds  himself  by  a  sokmn  purj)ose  and  vow 
to  show  in  the  days  that  are  to  come,  his 
thanivfuhiess  for  it.  He  '•  rose  up  early  in 
the  morning,  and  took  the  stone  that  he  had 
put  for  his  pillows,  and  set  it  up  for  a  pil- 
lar, and  poured  oil  upon  the  top  of  it." 
"  And  Jacob  vowed  a  vow,  saying,  If  God 
will  be  \\ith  me,  and  will  keep  me  in  this 
way  that  I  go,  and  will  give  me  bread  to 
eat  and  raiment  to  put  on,  so  that  I  come 
again  to  my  father's  house  in  peace  ;  then 
shall  the  Lord  be  my  God  ;  and  this  stone 
which  I  have  set  for  a  pillar,  shall  be  God's 
house  ;  and  of  all  that  thou  slialt  give  me, 
I  will  surely  give  the  tenth  unto  thee." 
How  this  vow  was  performed,  we  need  not 
now  inquire.  It  is  enough  for  our  present 
\  urpose  to  observe  that  it  was  made,  and 
made  evidently  in  perfect  sincerity  and 
with  much  warmth  of  feeling.  It  teaches 
us  this,  that  when  we  really  see  God,  we 
long  to  be  God's  ;  that  when  he  sends  us  a 
visit  of  his  love,  it  kindles  our  love  ;  that 
when  he  gladdens  us  with  mercies  and 
promises,  we  sometimes  half  forget  our 
gladness  in  our  desires  to  serve  him. 
What  is  the  end  of  all  the  mercy  that  he 
has  ever  shown  to  man  ?  It  is  to  bring 
man  back  to  himself ;  it  is  to  lay  him  at  his 
feet  his  willing  servant ;  it  is  to  make  us 
feel  that  we  are  not  our  own,  but  his,  O 
brethren,  if  the  sense  we  have  of  the  re- 
deeming love  of  Jehovah,  if  the  discoveries 
we  say  he  has  made  to  us  of  his  special 
love  to  ourselves,  if  these  things  have  not 
led  us  to  say,  and  to  say  it  often,  "  What 
shall  we  render  to  the  Lord  ?"  we  are  de- 
ceiving ourselves.  We  have  never  yet 
seen  any  thing  at  all  of  God's  love.  A 
dream  from  Satan  has  deluded  us.  We 
are  vet  in  a  dream,  and  a  treacherous  one. 
May  the  Lord  in  his  mercy  awake  usout  of  it ! 
Are  any  of  us  conscious  that  we  have 
nothing  to  do  with  these  things  ?  Has  this 
thought  been  to-day  in  any  heart  here, 
"  What  is  this  sermon  to  me  ?  This  gra- 
cious God  is  not  mine.  Would  that  he 
wore  !"  Then  let  me  add  at  the  end  of 
this  sermon  one  remark  more — this  vision 
seems  to  point  out  to  you  a  way  to  God.  It 
tells  you  where  you  may  find  him,  and  how 
you  may  approach  him.  We  may  regard 
It  as  in  some  measure  typical  of  tlie  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  He  is  certainly  ref<>rred  to 
in  the  promise  addressed  to  Jacob;  and 
when  he  speaks  in  St.  John's  gospel  of 
«  the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descend- 


ing upon  the  Son  of  Man,"  he  seems  to 
have  tiiis  ladder  in  his  mind,  and  to  view  it 
as  an  emljlem  of  himself.  Just  as  that 
communicated  between  heaven  and  earth, 
so  does  he.  Through  him  and  him  alone 
angels  come  down  to  us  with  blessings ; 
through  him  mercy  and  grace  descend  ; 
througli  him  the  Holy  Spirit  is  given.  He 
is  the  way  also  from  earth  to  heaven.  By 
him  our  prayers  ascend  up  to  the  Father, 
and  by  him  may  we  ourselves  do  the  same. 
Far  as  we  are  from  God,  he  can  bring  us 
nigh.  High  as  tlie  heavens  are  above  the 
eartli,  he  can  raise  us  up  to  them.  And 
he  is  willing  to  raise  us  up  to  them.  That 
ladder  may  be  climbed.  Its  top  is  in  the 
utmost  heavens  ;  it  rests  on  the  throne  of 
Jehovah  ;  but  its  foot  stands  on  the  earth, 
and  not  on  some  distant,  inaccessible  moun- 
tain of  it,  but  here  by  our  side.  Christ 
has  opened  for  us  a  way  to  God,  and  there 
is  not  a  .sinner  here,  who  may  not  this  day 
enter  it  as  freely  as  he  may  enter  his  own 
door.  Through  Christ  we  may  seek  God  ; 
through  Christ  we  may  find  God  ;  in  Christ, 
looking  up  through  his  human  to  his  lofty 
divine  nature,  we  may  see  God,  and  see 
him  as  ours. 


SERMON  XXII. 

THE  FOURTH  SU.NDAY  IX  LEN'T. 

JACOB  RETUllNING  TO  BETHEL. 

Genesis  xxxv.  1,  2,  3.—"  And  Ond  said  unto  Ja- 
cob, Arise,  tro  up  to  Bethel,  and  direll  there; 
and  make  there  an  altar  unto  God,  that  ap- 
peared unto  thcc  when  thou  Jlcddest  from  the 
face  of  Esau  thy  brother.  Then  Jacob  said 
unto  his  household,  and  to  all  that  icere  trith 
him,  Put  away  the  strange  gods  that  are  among 
you,  and  be  clean,  and  change  your  garments  : 
and  let  us  arise,  and  go  up  to  Bethel ;  and  I 
will  make  there  an  altar  unto  God,  who  an- 
swered me  in  the  day  of  my  distress,  and  was 
with  me  in  the  way  which  I  went." 

This  text  does  not  preach  the  gospel  to 
us,  brethren,  but  God  can  make  it  preach 
very  usefully  to  us.  To  those  of  us  wlioare 
parents,  it  speaks  home.  May  the  Lord  in 
his  mercy  grant  that  we  may  feel  its  |K)wer, 
and  we  and  our  families  l>e  the  I)rtter  for  it ! 

Let  us  consider,  first,  the  state  of  Jacob's 
mind  when  this  command  from  God  came 


104 


JACOB  RETURNING  TO  BETHEL. 


to  him ;  then,  the  command  itself;  and  then, 
the  obedience  which  the  patriarch  rendered 
to  it. 

I.  Jacob  was  now  in  a  mournful  state  of 
mind,  and  yet  a  very  common  one. 

You  remember  that  when  he  was  sent 
a\\  ay  from  his  father's  house  to  avoid  the 
re&pntment  of  Esau,  God  appeared  to  him 
in  a  vision  on  the  first  night  of  his  flight, 
and  promised  to  be  with  him  all  through  his 
future  life,  and  abundantly  to  bless  him  ; 
to  take  care  of  him  wliile  absent  from  his 
native  land,  and  eventually  to  bring  him 
back  to  it  again.  Impressed  with  these 
promises  given  to  him  in  so  extraordinary 
a  time  and  manner,  Jacob  rises  up  from  the 
ground  he  was  lying  on,  and  taking  the 
stone  that  had  been  his  pillow,  he  sets  it  up 
for  a  pillar  or  memorial,  and  then,  in  the 
ardor  of  a  holy  gratitude,  he  vows  a  vow  ; 
he  pledges  himself,  in  case  the  promises  just 
given  him  were  fulfilled,  to  come  back  to 
the  spot  whereon  he  stood,  and  to  make 
the  very  stone  he  had  just  set  up,  a  house 
or  altar  to  the  Lord.  Nearly  thirty  years 
had  now  passed.  The  Lord  all  this  time 
had  been  with  his  servant  and  prospered 
him  ;  he  had  brought  him  back  at  last  to 
his  country  in  peace.  His  vow  is  conse- 
quently due  ;  but  is  it  paid  ?  Has  Bethel 
been  revisited  ?  Is  the  promised  altar 
built  ?  No ;  for  seven  years  Bethel  and 
his  vow  seem  to  have  been  forgotten.  Du- 
ring these  years  he  has  been  living  in  an- 
other part  of  the  land  unmindful  of  both. 
How  strange  does  this  appear  !  And  yet 
what  is  there  uncommon  in  it  ?  It  involved 
in  it  only  these  two  every-day  things,  forget- 
fulness  of  mercies  and  forgetfulness  of  vows. 

Are  forgoUen  mercies  uncommon,  breth- 
ren ?  Let  any  one  of  us  look  back  a  little, 
and  he  will  say  they  are  as  common  as 
forgotten  sins.  They  meet  us  in  every 
part  of  our  life's  history.  As  we  trace  it 
year  by  year  from  our  infancy,  we  recol- 
lect perhaps  many  seasons  in  which  God 
signally  appeared  for  us,  and  affected  our 
hearts  by  his  great  and  unlocked  for  kind- 
ness. The  feeling  of  gratitude  excited  at 
the  time  within  us,  was  a  deep,  and  we 
thought  it  would  be  a  lasting  feeling.  Tlie 
tears  of  thankfulness  wore  forced  from  our 
eyes,  and  words  of  praise  from  our  lips. 
But  where  is  the  voice  of  praise  now  1  It 
has  long  ago  been  silenced  ;  the  eye  weeps 
and  the  heart  burns  no  more.  Our  mer- 
cies remain,  but  our  thankfulness  is  gone. 


Time  has  worn  it  away.  We  are  no  more 
like  our  former  selves  than  this  Jacob  at 
Shalem,  was  like  Jacob  at  Bethel. 

And  something  we  know  loo  oi forgoUen 
vows. 

We  were  once  poor  perhaps  in  the  world , 
just  as  this  outcast  Jacob  was,  almost  pen- 
niless ;  and  just  as  he  vowed,  so  did  we. 
"  If  the  Lord  ever  makes  us  rich,  of  all 
that  he  gives  us,  we  will  surely  give  a 
large  portion  back  again  to  him."  The 
Lord  has  made  us  rich  ;  but  money  has 
brought  with  it  the  love  of  money,  and  the 
vows  of  our  youth  are  as  nothing.  Where 
is  the  gold  we  promised  to  Goa  ?  It  is  held 
fast  in  our  own  hands,  and  there  we  pur- 
pose to  hold  it. 

Others  of  us  perhaps  can  recollect  the 
time  when  we  were  brought  low  by  sick- 
ness, and  thought  ourselves  near  death  ; 
and  what  were  our  vows  then  ?  We  re- 
membered with  bitterness  our  past  follies, 
and  determined,  if  our  lives  were  spared, 
to  devote  all  our  future  hours  to  God. 
Our  lives  were  spared  ;  we  were  raised 
from  the  bed  of  sickness  ;  and  for  a  season 
we  were  thankful  ;  but  where  is  the  de- 
votedness  we  promised  and  purposed  ? 
Alas !  we  have  scarcely  once  thought  of 
it.  Returning  health  brought  with  it  our 
former  worldly  employments  ;  tlie  scenes 
of  the  world  regained  by  degrees  their  for- 
mer  influence  over  us  ;  we  got  once  more 
into  the  whirl  of  every-day  life,  and  the 
plans  we  formed  in  sickness  for  our  con- 
duct, were  forgotten. 

A  kw  of  us  can  look  back  to  another 
season.  We  had  lived  regardless  of  God. 
It  pleased  him  by  his  all-powerful  Spirit 
to  quicken  our  souls,  and  wake  us  up  to  a 
sense  of  our  guilt  and  danger.  For  a  time 
we  suffered  under  the  anguish  of  a  wound- 
ed  conscience  ;  but  at  last  we  were  enabled 
to  look  on  a  dying  Saviour,  and  to  regard 
his  free  and  great  salvation  as  our  own. 
The  Lord  healed  us  ;  we  felt  tiie  burden 
of  sin  taken  off  us  ;  and  we  saw  ourselves 
accepted  in  the  Beloved.  O  with  what  a 
burning  vow,  brethren,  did  we  then  bind 
ourselves  to  the  Lord  !  With  what  an 
energy  of  soul  did  we  then  resolve  to 
live  only  unto  him  !  "God  is  the  Lord," 
I  we  said,  "which  hath  showed  us  light; 
bind  the  sacrifice  with  cords  even  unto  the 
horns  of  the  altar.  Thou  art  our  God,  and 
we  will  praise  thee  ;  tiiou  art  our  (Jod, 
we  will  exalt  thee."     But   in  what   havi. 


JACOB  RETURNING  TO  BETHEL. 


105 


these  vows  and  resolutions  ended  ?    Where  ]  remembers  all  his  own  mercies  to  his  peo 


is  the  scene  our  happy  minds  then  painted  ? 
We  know  not  where  to  find  it.  We  can 
bless  God  indeed  for  having  in  some  meas- 
ure changed  us  ;  we  do  not  live  the  care- 
less and  sinful  lives  we  did  before  ;  but  as 
for  having  realized  our  purposes  and  ex- 
pectations, as  for  being  the  zealous,  holy, 
heavenly-minded  men  we  determined  to  be, 
the  thought  is  humiliating  and  painful  to 
us.  We  feel  that  we  have  not  gone  up  to 
Bethel  as  we  said  we  would  ;  we  have  not 
built  the  promised  altar.  We  often  won- 
der, not  so  much  at  our  own  forgetfulness 
of  what  we  owe  our  redeeming  God,  as  that 
he  bears  with  us  in  our  forgetfulness  of  it, 
and  does  not  at  once  put  us  out  of  his  cov- 
enant and  cast  us  out  of  his  sight. 

This  then  was  the  state  of  Jacob's  mind 
at  this  time.  It  was  not  a  state  of  absolute 
forgetfulness  of  the  Lord,  for  we  see  him, 
at  the  end  of  the  thirty-third  chapter,  erect- 
ing at  Shalem,  near  his  tent,  an  altar  to 
him  ;  he  was  only  forgetful  of  his  early 
mercies  and  his  early  -vows.  And  he 
shows  us  herein  the  exceeding  deceitful- 
ness  of  the  human  heart.  If  any  one  had 
told  him  at  Bethel  in  the  first  glow  of  his 
thankfulness,  in  what  it  would  end  ;  if  any 
one  had  said  to  him,  "This  is  all  well, 
that  you  purpose  ;  but  this  will  all  pass 
away  ;  it  wall  come  to  nothing" — would 
he  have  believed  him  ?  "  No,"  he  would 
have  said,  "  you  do  not  know  me.  Only 
let  me  be  brought  back  to  Canaan,  and  in 
a  few  days  I  will  be  here  again  at  Bethel, 
this  blessed  Bethel.  It  shall  be  again  to 
me  as  the  house  of  God  and  the  gate  of 
heaven."  But  for  seven  years  the  man 
has  been  brought  back  to  Canaan,  and  has 
never  once  been  at  Bethel.  God  shows 
us  in  him  how  little  we  can  trust  ourselves, 
how  transient  some  of  our  best  and  warm- 
est feelings  are,  and  how  easily  effaced  our 
deepest  impressions.  Here  is  another  ser- 
mon on  that  declaration  of  Solomon,  "  He 
that  trusteth  in  his  own  heart,  is  a  fool." 

II.  Let  us  look  now  at  the  command  giv- 
en to  Jacob  in  his  forgetfulness.  (iod  said 
unto  him,  "Arise,  go  up  to  Bethel,  and 
dwell  there,  and  make  there  an  altar  unto 
God  that  appeared  unto  thee  when  thou 
fleddest  from  the  face  of  Esau  thy  brother." 
We  learn  here  two  things. 

1 .   The  Lord  remembers  our  promises  and 


VOIPS. 

We  have  sometimes  been  told  that  he 
14 


pie,  every  act  of  iiis  love  towards  every  one 
of  them.     Here  is  a  confirmation  of  that 
truth.      After  thirty  years,   the  vision  at 
Bethel,  though   but  a  vision,  was  fresh  as 
ever  in  his  memory.      A  mere  dream  of 
the  night,  sent  by  him  to  comfort  one  of 
the  least  of  his  servants,  is  not  forgotten. 
Tills  we  can  believe  ;   but  it  is  hard  to  be- 
lieve   that  the  Lord  remembers   the  petty 
movements   and   workings  of   our   minds. 
Men  may  recollect  our  promises,  for  thejr 
may  build  on  them,  and  be  led  into  disap- 
pointments and  inconveniences  if  they  are 
not  performed  ;  they  may  be  large  prom- 
ises  to  creatures  so  small  ;   but  it  is  strange 
that  the   mighty   God   should    hold  in  his 
mishty  mind  the  promises  of  a  worm.    But 
hofd  tiiem  he  does.     He  takes  special  no- 
tice  of  every  word  we  utter,  that  has  a  re- 
ference to  himself,  and  every  purpose  we 
form.     He  records  the  vows  we  make  to 
him,  and  his  mind  dwells  or>them  as  though 
he  delighted  in  them,  and  longed  to  have 
them   fulfilled.      "  I  remember  thee,"   he 
says  to  his  church  of  old,   "  the  kindness 
of" thy  youth,  the  love  of  thine  espousals." 
And  'turn  to  the  thirty-first  chapter  of  this 
book.     There,  seven  years  before  this,  he 
lets  Jacob  see  that  he  remembers  the  kind- 
ness of  his  early  years  ;  "  I  am  the  God 
of  Bethel,  where  thou  anointedst  the  pillar, 
and  where  thou  vowedst  a  vow  unto  me  ;" 
and  here  in  the  text  he  refers  to  the  same 
transaction  again.      All  this  time  he  has 
been  revolving  it  in  his  mind.     Wonderful 
is  the  love  that  God  bears  to  us  !     Its  ten- 
derness discovers  itself  in  such  seeming  tri- 
fles as  these.     They  let   us  see  that   all 
which  befalls  us,  is  of  deep  interest  to  iiim  ; 
that  every  service  we  render  him  or  even 
purpose  to  render  him,  delights  him.     We 
take  pleasure  in  any  proofs  we  receive  of 
our  children's  love  towards  us,  but  not  such 
pleasure  as  he  takes  in  any  love  of  ours. 

2.  We  learn  here  that  the  Lord  often 
reminds  his  people  of  their  forsrottcn  mercies 
and  vows.  He  did"  so  in  this  case  again 
and  again.  In  Padan-aram,  as  we  have 
seen,  he  tells  his  servant  of  the  pillar  that 
was  standing  at  Bethel  as  a  memorial  of 
his  vow  ;  and  commands  him  at  the  same 
time,  evidently  that  he  might  fulfil  his  vow, 
to  return  unto  the  land  of  his  kindred 
where  this  pillar  was.  To  Canaan  accord- 
ingly Jacob  goes,  but  finding  a  fruitful 
country  near  Shalem,  a  city  in  Shechem; 


106 


JACOB  RETURNING  TO  BETHEL. 


he  pitches  his  tent  there  ;  just  like  Lot, 
preferrinj^  the  fruitfuliiess  of  a  heathen 
land  to  his  spiritual  obligations  and  privi- 
leges. True,  he  builds  an  altar  in  She- 
chem,  and  inscribes  it  to  God,  the  God  of 
Israel  ;  and  he  thought  perhaps  this  would 
do,  and  do  well  ;  but  the  God  of  Israel  is 
a  jealous  God.  He  performs  his  promises 
to  the  very  letter,  to  their  full  extent ;  and 
will  have  his  commands  observed  to  their 
full  extent.  He  will  make  no  compromise 
concerning  them.  Shechem,  though  in 
Canaan,  is  not  the  country  of  Jacob's  fam- 
ily ;  Shalem  is  not  Bethel  ;  and  this  the 
patriarch  at  last  finds  out.  God  sends  him 
there  trouble  upon  trouble.  He  makes  the 
heathen  around  him  a  snare  and  a  curse  to 
his  family  ;  he  says  to  him,  in  the  ruin  of 
one  of  his  children  and  in  the  savage  cru- 
elty of  two  others,  "  You  are  not  where 
you  ought  to  be  ;  begone  from  this  place." 
And  when  all  this  fails,  when  his  senseless 
or  stubborn  servant  will  not  yet  understand 
him,  he  speaks  to  him  plainly  from  heaven, 
and  says,  "Arise,  go  up  to  Bethel,  and 
dwell  there,  and  make  there  an  altar  unto 
God."  O  the  wonderful  patience  of  Jeho- 
vah !  How  he  bears  with  us  in  our  world- 
ly-mindedness,  and  stupidity,  and  forget- 
fulness  !  But  if  he  loves  us  as  he  loves 
them  that  are  his,  he  will  remind  us  effec- 
tually one  day  or  another  of  what  we  owe 
him,  of  what  he  has  done  for  us,  and  what 
we  ought  to  have  done  for  him.  He  has 
many  ways  of  doing  this.  His  most  com- 
mon way  is  "that  which  he  employed  here 
— he  chastens  us.  Affliction  comes  to  dis- 
turb us,  and  make  us  feel  all  is  not  right; 
and  then  comes  the  word  of  his  mouth, 
some  sermon  or  scripture,  and  brings  the 
years  that  are  past  before  us,  with  their 
forgotten  mercies,  forgotten  obligations  and 
vows.  "  Thou  writest  bitter  things  against 
me,"  said  Job,  "  and  makest  me  to  possess 
the  iniquities  of  my  youth."  And  it  is  the 
same  with  the  mercies  of  our  youth,  and 
the  impressions  and  resolutions  to  which 
they  give  rise.  They  may  die  away  in 
our  minds,  but  not  in  God's  mind  ;  and  a 
day  will  come  when  he  will  make  them 
rise,  as  it  were,  from  the  dead  before  us. 
They  will  recur  to  us  again  with  a  force 
that  will  surprise  us.  A  voice  from  heav- 
en could  not  say  to  us  inore  plainly,  "  You 
had  forgotten  all  these  things,  but  I  had 
not." 

And  just  observe  the  j.j<;ntleness  and  ten- 


derness of  God  towards  Jacob  on  this  occa- 
sion.  He  does  not  speak  to  him,  though  he 
well  might  do  so,  as  an  angry  God  ;  he  does 
not  upbraid  him  with  his  disobedience  and 
forgetfulness.  Before,  in  Padanaram,  he 
reminded  him  of  his  vow,  but  now  he  does 
not  say  one  word  of  his  vow ;  he  simply 
commands  him  to  arise,  and  go  up  to  Bethel, 
and  build  there  an  altar.  The  man's  heart 
he  sees  to  be  sick  and  troubled,  and  he  ap- 
pears as  though  he  could  not  bear  to  trou- 
ble him  more.  He  must  touch  the  hearts 
of  his  people ;  be  is  often  constrained  to 
wound  them,  and  wound  them  deeply  ;  but 
his  knife  never  goes  a  hair's  breadth  beyond 
the  necessity  of  the  case.  While  he  wounds, 
he  lets  them  see  that  he  pities  and  spares. 

III.  We  come  now  to  our  third  point — 
the  obedience  ihe  patriarch  rendered  1o  the 
divine  command.  In  this  we  shall  find 
something  to  surprise  us,  something  to  in- 
struct us,  and  something  to  encourage  us. 

Here  is  something  to  surprise  us.  There 
were  strange  gods,  we  find,  in  the  house  of 
Jacob  at  this  time  ;  yes,  idols  in  the  house 
of  almost  the  only  man  in  the  world,  who 
worshipped  the  true  God  ;  and  he  knew 
they  were  there  and  tolerated  them.  Well 
may  we  ask,  how  was  this  ?  We  must  go 
back  for  an  answer. 

The  Rachel  whom  he  so  tenderly  loved 
and  for  whom  he  had  so  patiently  waited 
and  labored,  was  an  amiable,  affectionate 
woinan  ;  but  she  w  anted  one  thing,  and  that 
one  thing  was  a  decided  love  for  the  Lord 
God  of  Israel.  She  had  been  brought  up  in 
an  idolatrous  country,  and  she  herself  was 
half  an  idolater.  Accordingly,  when  he 
married  her,  he  introduced  a  worshipper 
of  false  gods  into  his  house ;  she  had  her 
secret  idols,  and  she  brought  them  with  her. 
Here  began  perhaps  Jacob's  own  forgetful- 
ness of  God,  and  here  undoubtedly  began 
much  of  the  ungodliness  and  wretchedness 
of  his  children.  Shall  I  say  that  we  may 
learn  here  the  vast  importance  of  the  con- 
nections which  we  form  in  the  days  of  our 
youth  ?  that  there  is  a  loud  warning  given 
here  to  the  pious  young  never  to  let  their 
affections  wind  round  one  who  does  not 
plainly  and  decidedly  love  the  Lord  ?  to  let 
the  heart  break  rather  than  give  the  heart 
to  an  idolater?  I  had  rather  speak  to  men 
like  this  patriarch,  men  who  have  house- 
holds, children,  and  servants.  I  would 
say  to  them,  Dear  brethren,  look  through 
your  houses  and  ask,  "  Are  there  no  idols 


JACOB  RETURNING  TO  BETHEL. 


107 


fie.'s  r  Is  there  nothing  here,  that  takes 
Gc'j  s  place  in  our  hearts  or  our  cliiklren's  ? 
Ts  tiiere  nothing  here,  tiiat  is  opposed  to 
God's  will  and  law,  and  tends  to  God's 
dishonor  ?"  Bad  books,  bad  company, 
dangerous  amusements,  practices  which  the 
world  does  not  condemn  nor  even  some  of 
those  wiio  profess  to  live  above  the  world, 
but  such  as  will  not  bear  the  trial  of  scrip- 
ture for  one  moment,  such  as  you  would 
see  the  evil  of  in  a  moment  did  they  not  in 
some  way  or  other  fall  in  with  your  taste  or 
interest — these  are  all  idols  ;  these  will 
lead  to  irreligion  and  ungodliness  in  your 
houses ;  these  will  bring  down  on  you  God's 
displeasure  and  judgments.  I\Iischief  will 
rise  up  in  your  families  from  these  things, 
and  through  your  families  God  will  smite 
you  for  them. 

There  is  something  also  here  to  instruct 
us.  It  is  the  promptitude  and  decision  of 
the  patriarch's  obedience. 

There  are  times,  brethren,  when  we  feel 
we  have  a  duty  to  perform,  but  we  shrink 
from  the  performance  of  it,  and  we  put  it 
off;  or  else  we  set  about  doing  only  a  part 
of  it,  and  hope  thus  to  quiet  our  conscience 
and  satisfy  God.  And  if  we  are  not  really 
the  heaven-born,  soul-converted  children 
of  God,  this  goes  on  to  our  dying  day  ;  post- 
poned, half-performed  duties  characterize 
our  whole  history.  But  if  there  is  within 
us  the  vital  principle  of  godliness,  a  time 
comes  when  all  this  ends.  God  brings  us 
to  a  stand-still,  and  from  that  moment  this 
trifling  with  God  ceases.  What  he  com- 
mands, we  do  ;  and,  by  his  grace  enabling 
us,  we  do  it  at  once,  and  do  it  fearlessly 
and  fully.  God  bears  long  with  the  liesi- 
tation  and  disobedience  of  his  children,  but 
as  surely  as  they  are  his  children,  they  be- 
come at  last  obedient  children,  a  willing 
people  "  in  the  day  of  his  power."  Look 
at  Jacob.  He  forgets  Bethel  ;  or  if  not  so. 
year  after  year  he  delays  going  there;  but  at 
last  comes  a  command  that  rouses  the  man  ; 
he  hears  and  at  once  obeys  it.  "  Arise,  go 
up  to  Bethel,  .md  dwell  there,"  says  God, 
"  and  make  there  an  altar."  He  echoes 
immediately,  you  observe,  God's  command. 
"Lot  us  arise,"  he  says  to  his  family, 
"  and  go  up  to  Bethel,  and  I  will  make 
there  an  altar  unto  God."  And  mark — he 
feels  tnat  it  will  never  do  to  go  to  Bethel 
carrying  with  him  Rachel's  idols,  and  pro- 
faning that  holy  place.  His  soul  revolts 
at  this.     He  knows  that  he  has  to  do  with 


a  heart-searching  God,  and  says  at  once 
unto  his  household  and  to  all  that  are 
with  him,  •'  Put  away  the  strange  gods  that 
are  among  you,  and  be  clean."  The  quiet, 
silent  tolerator  of  idolatry  becomes  decided 
in  his  opposition  to  it  ;  he  feels  its  contami- 
nation as  well  as  sinfulness,  and  says,  "  We 
must  cleanse  ourselves  from  it." 

And  thus  does  the  grace  of  God  work 
sooner  or  later  in  every  master  of  a  family, 
in  whom  that  grace  is.  He  finds  out  that 
as  the  master  of  a  family  he  is  an  accounta- 
ble man.  God  has  spoken  to  him,  and  he 
must  speak  to  his  household.  He  will  not 
content  himself,  as  he  once  did,  with  de- 
ploring the  evils  that  are  to  be  found  in 
his  house,  saying,  "  I  am  sorry  they  are 
here,  but  I  cannot  help  it;"  he  will  say, 
"I  must  help  it.  I  must  at  all  events  do 
what  I  can  to  help  it.  I  must  say  to  my 
children  and  servants,  kindly  but  firmly, 
God  has  been  very  gracious  to  me,  and  I 
cannot  have  him  dishonored  here  by  you. 
Put  away  the  strange  gods  that  are  among 
you."  He  will  reason  the  matter  with 
them.  Observe  how  Jacob  does  so  ;  "  The 
Lord  answered  me  in  the  day  of  my  dis- 
tress  ;  he  was  with  me  in  the  way  which  I 
went.  He  has  blessed  me  exceedingly, 
and  you  have  partaken  of  the  blessings  he 
has  poured  on  me.  It  is  right,  therefore, 
that  I  should  build  this  altar  to  him,  and  it 
is  right  that  you  should  cast  away  your 
false  gods,  and  go  with  me  to  build  it." 

And  here  too  is  something  to  encourage  vs. 

Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  hear 
men  say,  "  We  cannot  do  what  we  would 
in  our  houses.  A\'e  see  there  is  much  to 
he  reformed  there,  but  it  is  very  difficult 
to  set  about  reforming  it,  and  impossible, 
we  fear,  to  accomplish  it."  But,  brethren, 
bring  the  same  principles  to  bear  on  your 
families,  that  you  bring  to  bear,  if  you  are 
the  servants  of  Christ,  on  your  own  hearts. 
Has  there  never  been  any  difTiculty  within 
them  ?  Has  there  never  been  any  thing 
to  be  accomplished  in  them,  which  seemed 
impossible  ?  no  secret  idol  to  be  put  away, 
that  .seemed  as  though  it  would  tear  away 
the  heart  with  it  as  it  went  ?  no  long  cher- 
ished,  darling  sin  to  be  cast  out  ?  But 
where  is  that  sin,  and  where  is  that  idol 
now  ?  '•  Blessed  be  the  Lord  Jesus  Cnnst," 
you  will  say,  "  they  are  'one.  His  grace 
has  given  us  the  victory."  And  will  not 
his  grace  follow  you  when  you  really  try 
to  root  idols  and  sins  out  of  your  fan)ilies? 


108 


WEANEDNESS  OF  SOUL. 


You  forget  tliat  God  is  on  your  side  here 
also,  and  that  here  again  you  will  be 
■'  workers  together  with  "him."  Your  chil- 
iren's  hearts  are  not  one  whit  harder  than 
your  own  once  were,  nor  their  idols  more 
worshipped  and  beloved.  Look  at  Jacob's 
success.  When  he  spake  like  a  servant 
of  God  to  his  family,  their  hearts  were 
melted  before  him.  They  obeyed  him  as 
cheerfully  as  he  had  obeyed  the  Lord. 
"They  gave  unto  Jacob,-"'\ve  read,  "all 
the  strange  gods  which  were  in  their  hand, 
and  all  their  earrings  which  were  in  their 
ears" — things  that  in  those  days  were  often 
of  an  idolatrous  character — "  and  Jacob  hid 
them  under  the  oak  which  was  by  She- 
chem."  No  matter  what  became  o*f  them 
afterwards,  he  had  done  with  them  and  so 
had  his  family,  and  they  set  off,  doubtless 
with  cheerful  feelings, 'to  Bethel.  They 
had  sinned,  but  the  Lord,  they  might  hope, 
had  forgiven  them,  and  they  were  now  about 
to  praise  him  together  in  the  place  he  had 
appointed.  "  So  Jacob  came  to  Luz,  which 
is  in  the  land  of  Canaan,  that  is.  Bethel,  he 
and  all  the  people  that  were  with  him  ; 
and  he  built  there  an  altar,  and  called  the 
place  Elbethel,  because  there  God  appear- 
ed unto  him." 

And  read  on,  brethren,  to  the  end  of  this 
chapter.  If  you  love  your  families,  you 
will  soon  see  why  I  have  asked  you  to  do 
so ;  and  you  will  be  affected  by  the  good- 
ness of  God  in  dealing  as  he  dealt  at  this 
time  with  this  sinful  "patriarch.  He  was 
about  to  send  .death  into  his  family.  An  old 
servant  was  first  to  go,  and  then  soon  after 
the  Rachel  he  loved  so  well,  was  to  follow 
her.  And  what  must  his  feelings  of  thank- 
fulness have  been  as  he  stood  by  that  wo- 
man's corpse  !  How  must  he  have  blessed 
his  God  for  having  led  him  to  separate  be- 
tween her  and  her'idols  before  she  died,  and 
perha])s  made  him  the  means  of  turning  her 
heart  to  the  Lord  !  At  all  events,  he  had 
this  to  comfort  him — the  wife  of  his  bosom 
did  not  die  an  idolater.  Your  own  feelings 
will  apply  this.  To  them  and  your  God  I 
leave  you.  Dying  hours  will  come  in  your 
families  as  well  as  in  Jacob's,  and  misera- 
ble some  of  them  will  be.  By  God's  grace, 
try  to  act  so  now,  tliat  when  they  come,  you 
may  be  saved  the  bitterness  of  self-re- 
proach ;  saved  from  having  to  say,  "  There 
lies  one  whose  body  I  cared  for,  but  for 
whose  precious  soul  I  had  scarcely  a  care 
or  a  thought." 


i  SERMON  XXin. 

THE    FIFTH    SUNDAY    IN    LEWT. 

WEANEDNESS  OF  SOUL. 

Psalm  cxxxi.  2.—"  Surely  I  have  behaved  and 
quieted  myself,  as  a  child  that  is  weaned  of  his 
mother;  my  soul  is  even  as  a  weane'l  child.'" 

Many  expressions  in  the  Psalms,  which 
now  appear  strange  to  us,  we  should  cease 
to  think  so,  were  we  acquainted  with  the 
circumstances  under  which  they  were  writ- 
ten. Thus  here— we  are  ready  to  deem 
the  beginning  of  this  psalm  self-confident 
and  bold,  but  it  is  called  in  the  title  of  it 
"  a  song  of  David,"  and  it  is  supposed  to 
have  been  composed  in  his  earlier  days, 
when  charges  of  pride  and  ambition  were 
brought  against  him.  One  of  his  own  bro- 
thers,  you  remember,  attacked  him  in  this 
way  on  his  first  coming  to  the  army,  and 
soon  afterwards  he  was  accused  bv"  others 
of  aiming  to  dethrone  Saul  and  usurp  his, 
kingdom.  But  O  the  comfort  it  gives  the 
persecuted  soul  to  turn  from  men  to  the 
Lord  !  "  My  friends  scorn  me,"  said  the 
harassed  Job,  "  but  mine  eve  poureth  out 
tears  unto  God.  Behold,  my  witness  is  in 
heaven  and  my  record  is  on  high."  And 
here  comes  David  in  this  psalm'  appealing 
in  the  integrity  of  his  heart  to  his  heart- 
searching  God.  "Lord,"  he  says,  "my 
heart  is  not  haughty,  nor  mine  eyes  lofty ; 
neitherdo  I  exercise  myself  in  great  mat- 
ters, or  in  things  too  high  for  me."  "I 
know  thou  hast  promisedme  a  crown,  but 
I  have  never  taken  one  step  to  gain  it  ,•  I 
have  never  vaunted  myself  on  the  prospect 
of  it;  I  do  not  even  desire  it."  And  then 
he  explains  to  us  how  this  was  ;  "  My  soul 
is  even  as  a  weaned  child."  "  By  thy 
free  Spirit  working  within  me,  I  am  able  to 
look  with  indifference  on  all  earthly  things. 
My  heart  is  in  none  of  them."  A  blessed 
frame  of  mind,  brethren !  May  the  God 
of  all  grace  bestow  it  on  you  and  me  ! 

We  must  consider,  first,  the  nature  of 
this  weanedness  of  soul,  what  it  is ;  then, 
its  sources,  how  we  get  it;  and,  tiiirdly, 
its  advantages,  what  it  will  do  for  us 
when  we  have  it. 

L  In  its  nature,  it  differs  essentiallv  from 
that  disgust  with  the  world,  to  which  its  ill 
usage  and  meanness  sometimes  give  rise. 
It  is  one  thing  to  be  angry  with  the  Avorld 
or  ashamed  of  it,  and  another  to  be  weaned 


WEArRDNESS  OF  SOUL. 


109 


from  it.  Alter  the  world,  ennoble  it,  and 
manv  a  proud  mind  lliat  now  despises, 
would  court  it. 

It  is  different  also  from  that  weariness  of 
spirit,  which  generally  follows  a  free  indul- 
gence in  earthly  enjoyments.  There  is 
such  a  thins  as  wearing  out  the  atfections. 
Solomon  seems  to  have  done  this  at  one  pe- 
riod of  his  life.  "  I  have  not  a  wish  left," 
said  a  well-known  sensualist  of  our  own 
country,  who  had  drunk  deeply  as  he  could 
drink  of  the  world's  cup.  "Were  all  the 
earth  contains  spread  out  before  me,  I  do 
not  know  a  thing  I  would  take  tlie  trouble 
of  putting  out  my  hand  to  reach.'"' 

Tills  weanedness  of  soul  presupposes  a 
power  left  in  the  soul  of  loving  and  desir- 
ing. It  is  not  the  destruction  of  its  appe- 
tite, but  the  controlling  and  changing  of  it. 
A  weaned  child  still  hungers,  but  it  hun- 
gers no  more  after  the  food  that  once  de- 
lighted it ;  it  is  quiet  without  it ;  it  can  feed 
on  other  things  :  so  a  soul  weaned  from 
the  world,  still  pants  muqh  as  ever  for  food 
and  happiness,  but  it  no  longer  seeks  them 
in  worldly  objects.  There  is  nothing  in 
the  world,' that  it  feels  necessary  for  its  hap- 
piness. This  thing  in  it  it  loves,  and  that 
thino-  it  values,  but  it  knows  that  it  can  do 
without  them,  and  it  is  ready  to  do  without 
them  whenever  God  pleases. 

And  you  musl  not  conceive  that  I  am 
speaking  now  of  evil  things  only,  or  of  cer- 
tain questionable  pleasures  and  indulgences. 
I  am  speaking  of  all  worldly  things,  good  and 
bad.  Money,  business,  honor,  pleasure, 
affection,  friends,  children,  every  thing  of 
an  earthly  kind  that  the  hungry  heart  of 
man  ever  delighted  itself  in — this  weaned- 
ness of  soul  says  of  them  all,  "  If  need  be, 
let  them  go."  '  It  checks  the  mind  in  the 
pursuit  of  them,  it  sobers  it  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  them,  it  prepares  it  to  part  with 
them,  it  quiets  it  when  they  are  gone.  It 
enables  a  man  to  rejoice  in  them  while  he 
has  them,  as  though  lie  rejoiced  not ;  and 
to  weep  for  them  when  he  loses  them,  as 
though  he  wept  not.  See  it  in  Paul.  "  I 
have  learned,"  he  says,  "  in  whatsoever 
state  I  am,  therewith  to  be  content.  I  know 
both  how  to  be  abased  and  how  to  abound." 
Is  there  any  one  thing,  brethren,  which  you 
feel  you  could  not  bear  to  part  witli  ?  Or 
is  there  any  one  earthly  thing  you  feel  you 
must  obtain  ?  Then  you  do  not  po.ssess  a 
weaned  soul.  Could  you  give  up  all  you 
have   at  God's  call  ?  and  when  you  had 


done  so,  instead  of  sayine:,  "  There  goes 
all  mv  happiness,"'  could  you  say  with  a 
calm,  thougli  perhaps  with  a  bleeding  heart, 
"  I  can  be  happy  still ;  my  liest  treasure  is 
yet  left  ?"  Then  yours  is  a  weaned  soul. 
You  may  say  with  David,  "  I  am  even  as  a 
weaned  chilil." 

If  you  ask  me  whether  all  true  believers 
have  this  grace,  I  answer,  No,  not  at  least 
to  the  extent  this  psalm  implies.  It  is  im- 
perfect even  in  those  who  have  the  most  of 
it.  In  many  of  them,  like  every  other 
grace,  it  is  fluctuating,  now  triumphing 
over  the  natural  carthliness  of  the  soul,  and 
now  again  losing  for  a  while  its  power. 
This  very  David,  who  says  here  so  confi- 
dently and  doubtless  so  truly,  "  My  soul 
is  weaned,"  said  afterwards,  "  My  soul 
cleaveth  to  the  dust." 

II.  Let  us  inquire  now  into  tJie  sources 
of  this  frame  of  mind — how  we  get  it. 

One  thing  is  certain — it  is  not  our  work. 
We  do  not"  bring  ourselves  to  it.  No  in- 
fant  weans  itself.  Here  lies  the  misery  of 
our  condition — we  not  only  seek  our  rest  in 
things  that  can  never  yield  it,  but  leave  us 
to  ourselves,  we  go  on  to  the  last  seeking  it 
in  them.  The  soul  "cleaves"  to  them.  It 
may  feel  its  want  of  something  better,  but 
it  does  not  seek  any  thing  better.  Who  is 
there  among  us,  that  has  not  felt  again  and 
again  the  world's  emptiness?  Which  of 
us  has  not  a  conviction  in  his  mind,  that  he 
wants  more  than  the  world  can  give  him  ? 
Yet  look  at  us — most  of  us  still  go  to  this 
empty  world  to  be  filled.  Time  and  ex- 
perience have  done  nothing  at  all  in  this 
matter  for  us.  Our  souls  are  as  fast  bound 
to  the  world  as  they  were  at  first,  or  faster. 
The  truth  is,  it  is  God,  who  must  wean  us 
from  it.  We  shall  never  leave  it  of  our 
own  accord.  It  is  God's  own  right  hand, 
that  must  draw  us  from  it.  And  how  ? 
The  figure  in  the  text  will  partly  tell  us. 
1.  iiy  cmhiUcring  the  world  to  xis. 
As  long  as  we  can  get  sweetness  and  un- 
alloyed  sweetness  from  any  earthly  object, 
we  shall  never  turn  i'rom  it — such  things 
are  too  rare  in  the  earth,  and  we  too  hun- 
gry. God  therefore,  after  a  little,  lays  gall 
and  wormwood  on  the  thing  we  love,  and 
more  and  more  of  it,  till  its  sweetness  goes, 
and  at  last  we  are  afraid  of  it.  O  the  an- 
guish  we  sometimes  get  from  the  things  that 
once  delighted  us  !  But  O,  brethren,  the 
blessedness  of  that  anguish  !  It  is  .severing 
our  hearts  from  the  sin  that  was  poisoning 


110 


WEANEDNESS  OF  feOiJi. 


them.  It  is  a  part  of  that  weaning  process 
we  nriust  go  tlirougii  before  our  hearts  are 
God's. 

2.  At  other  times  the  Lord  removes  from 
us  the  thing  loe  love. 

We  want  it  still,  for  it  is  still  sweet  to  us  ; 
but  he  says,  "  No,  you  shall  have  it  no 
longer  ;"  and  then  comes  a  worm  and  with- 
ers our  gourd  ;  friends  are  alienated  ;  or 
breaches  are  made  in  our  families,  and 
graves  are  opened,  and  houses  and  hearts 
left  desolate.  We  would  not  tear  our  soul 
from  that  object ;  God  therefore  tears  that 
object  from  us,  and  says  when  he  has  done 
it,  "  Now  look  higher.  Now  you  have  love 
to  spare  ;  give  it  me." 

3.  But  he  weans  us  most  from  the  earth 
by  ffiving  us  letter  food. 

The  soul  of  man  is  an  empty  thing,  and 
a  craving  one.  It  must  have  something  to 
feed  on,  and  no  matter  what  it  has,  it  will 
hold  it  fast  and  feed  on  it  till  it  can  get 
something  better.  To  draw  it  away  there- 
fore from  the  world,  some  substitute  for  the 
world  must  be  presented  to  it.  It  must  see 
within  its  reach  a  nobler  good,  higher  joys 
and  pleasures.  It  must  have  a  "taste  and 
relish  for  them,  and  some  enjoyment  of 
them.  And  so  the  Lord  deals"  with  his 
people.  He  weans  them  from  this  world 
by  giving  them  some  foretastes  of  anoth- 
er. By  embittering  some  earthly  things 
to  them  and  taking  others  away,  he  for- 
ces them  to  look  around  them  for  some 
higher  good,  and  then  he  presents  himself 
to  them  in  all  his  grace  and  glory,  mani- 
fested in  his  incarnate  Son,  and  says, 
"  Here  am  I.  I  am  the  bread  of  life.  Feed 
on  me."  At  first  they  found  salvation  only 
in  the  Lord  Jesus  ;  now  there  is  the  joy  of 
his  salvation  for  them.  At  first  they  sought 
mercy  only  of  God.;  now  they  have  com- 
munion and  fellowship  with  "him.  They 
looked  once  to  the  Holy  Spirit  as  a  Sanctifier 
only  ;  now  they  go  to  him  as  a  Comforter 
and  find  him  one.  And  in  proportion  as  they 
thus  enjoy  God,  they  lose  their  relish  for 
other  enjoyments.  Worldly  pleasures  de- 
base the  soul ;  they  dispose  it  to  sink  deeper 
and  deeper  in  its  search  for  happiness,  and 
to  take  up  with  viler  things ;  the  soul  is 
always  the  worse  for  them  ;"spiritual  pleas- 
ures exalt  the  soul ;  they  give  it  a  distaste 
for  all  that  is  low  and  vile,  and  teach  it  to 
aspire  to  the  very  highest  objects.  "  He 
that  cometh  to  me,"  says  our  Lord,  "  shall 
nevei  hunger,"  never  hunger  again  after 


earthly  things,  "  and  he  that  believeth  on 
me  shall  never  thirst."  The  reason  is,  he 
shall  find  in  Christ  better  food  and  better 
water,  than  the  whole  created  universe  can 
afford.  He  weans  us  from  our  admiration 
of  the  world  by  showing  us  his  own  match- 
less glory.  The  world  in  all  its  gorgeous- 
ness  is  but  a  heap  of  dust  in  comparison 
with  him  ;  the  sun  that  shines  on  it  is  sack- 
cloth, and  the  light  of  its  brightest  day  is 
darkness.  And  he  weans  us  from  the  love 
of  the  world  by  discovering  to  us  the  riches 
of  his  own  love,  its  freeness,  its  compassion, 
its  patience,  its  tenderness  and  sweetness, 
its  vastness.  Hear  Paul  ;  "  God  forbid 
that  1  should  glory  save  in  the  cross  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by  whom  the  world  is 
crucified  to  me  and  I  to  the  world."  "I 
count  all  things  but  loss  for  the  excellency 
of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord." 
"  I  have  suffered  the  loss  of  all  things,  and  do 
count  them  but  dung,  that  I  may  win  Christ." 
But  observe,  the  psalmist  speaks  in  the 
text  as  though  he  had  weaned  his  own 
heart ;  "  Surely  I  have  behaved  and  quiet- 
ed myself  as  a  child  that  is  weaned  of  his 
mother."  And  let  a  believer  speak  as  he 
feels,  he  will  often  speak  thus. 

In  doing  our  souls  good,  God  deals  with 
us  as  with  rational  creatures.  A  man's 
heart  is  not  taken  away  from  the  world  as 
a  stone  is  lifted  from  one  place  to  another ; 
it  is  made  to  detach  itself  from  it.  And 
hence  it  is  that  the  work  is  not  done  M'ithout 
the  soul's  own  concurrence  in  it,  and  with- 
out effort  after  effort  on  the  soul's  part. 
While  God's  providence  and  Spirit  are  both 
at  work  for  the  believer,  the  believer  is 
obliged  to  submit  himself  to  the  process  that 
is  going  on,  and  to  take  a  part  in  it  :  he  is 
obliged  to  say,  and  to  say  it  often,  '■  I  also 
must  work.  Here  is  much  that  I  must  do. 
Here  is  a  wrench  for  me  to  make.  Here 
is  a  rising  lust  for  me  to  crucify.  Here  is 
an  object  that  I  prize  more  than  all  the 
world,  to  be  let  go.  O  tliat  this  heart  of 
mine  would  of  itself  forsake  its  idols  !  but 
it  will  not.  I  have  to  tear  it  away  from 
them."  And  no  wonder  then  that  he  some- 
times says,  when  the  work  is  done,  "  I  have 
done  it."  But  ask  him  when  he  says  so, 
how  he  has  done  it  ?  Ho  will  say,  and  say 
it  with  abounding  thankfulness,  "  Bv  a 
strength  that  is  not  mine."  And  ask  liim 
what  has  led  him  to  do  it,  he  will  answer 
again,  "  Only  because  my  gracious  God 
has  in  his  love  compelled  mo.     Had  ho  left 


WEANEDNESS  OF  SOUL. 


Ill 


me  alone  when  I  was  so  madly  seeking  my 
rest  in  vanities,  I  should  have  been  seeking 
it  in  them  still.  And  were  he  to  leave  me 
alone  even  now,  after  all  that  liis  providence 
and  grace  have  done  for  me  and  taught  me, 
I  should  in  one  hour  be  again  feeding  on 
ashes  :  tlie  world  would  not  have  a  more 
abject  slave  than  I.  Neither  to  will  nor  to 
do  is  mine.  By  the  grace  of  my  God,  I 
am  what  I  am." 

You  see  then,  brethren,  that  we  may 
trace  this  weanedness  of  soul  to  various 
causes — if  we  look  upward,  to  God  work- 
ing by  his  Spirit  in  our  hearts ;  if  we  look 
around  us,  to  worldly  disappointments  and 
afflictions  ;  if  we  look  within  us,  to  the  dis- 
coveries we  have  had  made  to  us  of  the 
grace  and  glory  of  the  Lord  Jesus  in  the 
gospel,  and  the  joy  they  have  imparted  to 
us.  And  may  I  say  we  may  trace  it  also 
to  ourselves  ?  to  our  own  self-denial  and 
ellurts  falling  in  with  God's  gracious  pur- 
poses ?  If  I  do  say  so,  I  would  say  it  to 
the  glory  of  Jehovah's  grace,  for  not  an 
effort  heavenward  would  one  of  us  make 
did  not  the  living  God  constrain  us.  We 
wean  ourselves  from  our  parent  earth  ?  No 
more  than  the  hungry  infant  would  wean 
itself  from  its  mother's  breast ;  no  more 
than  the  branch  would  tear  itself  from  its 
native  tree,  and  grow  on  another  stem. 

III.  We  come  now  to  a  third  point — the 
advantages  of  this  grace,  what  it  will  do  for 
us.     There  are  two  things  it  will  do. 

1.  It  will  save  us  from  much  sin.  The 
want  of  it  is  the  source  of  almost  all  our 
many  inconsistencies  and  declensions.  Holy 
men  owe  to  this  one  want  most  of  their  sad 
falls,  and  all  the  triflers  and  self-deceivers 
in  the  church,  who  become  apostates,  be- 
come so  from  the  same  cause.  Lot's  wife 
looked  back  on  Sodom  only  because  her 
heart  was  not  weaned  from  Sodom  ;  and 
Demas  forsook  the  apostles  and  the  Lord  also 
for  a  similar  reason — he  had  left  his  heart  in 
the  world,  and  could  not  live  away  from  it. 

It  is  a  miserable  thing,  brethren,  for  a 
man  to  come  into  the  church  of  Chri.st,  and 
drag  after  him  the  world's  chain.  He  will 
most  surely  disgrace  his  Clu'istian  |)rofcs- 
sion,  and  pierce  himself  through  in  the  end 
with  many  sorrows.  It  must  be  so  ;  for 
consider — most  of  the  sins  we  fall  into  con- 
sist in  one  or  the  otlier  of  these  two  things, 
either  loving  lawful  things  too  mucli  or 
turning  to  unlawful  things.  Now  if  a 
man's  heart  is  not  weaned  from  the  world, 


he  will  not  always  stop  in  1  is  use  of  lawful 
things  where  God  commands  him  to  stop. 
He  will  be  tempted  to  get  all  he  can  out  of 
them,  and  to  drain  them  dry.  And  then 
when  they  are  taken  from  him  or  embitter- 
ed to  him,  comes  another  danger — liis  hun- 
gry soul  will  urge  him  to  break  through  tlie 
fence  God's  holy  law  has  built  around  him, 
and  try  forbidden  things.  ''  This  fUow- 
creature  does  not  make  you  happy,"  it 
says,  "  but  another  may.  That  lionrst  way 
of  traffic  does  not  make  you  rich,  but  there 
is  another  way  which  perhaps  will.  This 
pleasure  is  grown  insipid,  but  that  you 
have  never  tried  ;  it  may  bring  you  new 
and  fresh  delight."  A  craving  heart  is 
never  out  of  danger,  and  is  seldom  long 
without  sin.  A  weaned  heart  is  the  only 
safe  one.  It  does  not  need  sin,  it  feels  no 
want  of  any  thing  .sin  can  do  for  it,  and 
therefore  it  lives  above  it. 

2.  This  weanedness  of  spirit  will  keep  us 
quiet  under  our  mamj  troubles. 

It  is  our  immoderate  love  of  earthly 
things,  that  makes  the  loss  of  them  so  very 
painful  to  us.  Dear  and  sweet  as  they 
may  be  to  us,  we  can  do  without  them. 
God  has  indeed  linked  his  creatures  close- 
ly one  to  another,  but  never  yet  has  he 
made  one  creature  absolutely  needful  to 
another's  happiness.  "  My  happiness  gone 
forever  because  this  or  that  object  that  I 
loved,  is  taken  from  me  !"  It  is  a  heathen's 
thought.  That  soul  is  in  a  sad  state  and  a 
sinful  one,  which  can  long  indulge  it.  But 
indulge  it  we  shall,  if  our  hearts  are  cleav- 
ing to  eartldy  objects.  The  Bible  may  say 
one  thing  to  us  when  we  are  in  trouble,  but 
our  feelings  will  say  another.  It  may  tell 
us  that  God  does  all  things  well,  all  thizigs 
in  love  and  faithfulness  ;  but  if  we  feel  that 
he  has  stripped  us  bare  and  made  us 
wretched,  we  shall  be  ready  to  quarrel  with 
him  for  his  love  and  faithfulness.  There 
is  no  submitting  of  ourselves  to  his  ways, 
while  worldly  affections  reign  in  us.  Quiet- 
ness and  resignation  in  trouble  are  for  the 
weaned  .soul,  and  for  no  other.  It  is  the 
man  who  loves  something  better  than  the 
world,  that  can  afford  to  lose  the  world. 
He  only  can  let  his  staff  go,  who  has  ceased 
to  lean  much  on  it,  and  has  been  taught  to 
lean  rather  on  an  everlasting  arm.  "  The 
Lord  Iiath  taken  away ;  blessed  be  tiie 
name  of  the  Lord  !" — none  can  say  this 
with  Job,  who  cannot  say  also  with  David, 
"My  soul  is  even  as  a  weaned  chiH." 


112 


WEANEDNESS  OF  SOUL. 


And  now,  in  conclusion,  let  me  address 
a  few  words  to  three  classes  of  persons 
among  you. 

And  first  to  you  who  really  love  God, 
but  are  ready  to  complain  of  the  pain  and 
sorrow  you  endure  in  your  way  to  him. 
Does  not  this  text  lay  open  to  you  one  main 
cause  of  that  sorrow  ?  A  weaned  heart 
is  absolutely  needful  for  you.  You  can 
have  little  peace  in  this  world  without  it, 
and  most  certainly  without  it  you  can  never 
enjoy  heaven.  And  where  is  the  heart  that 
can  be  weaned  from  a  world  it  naturally 
loves,  without  pain  ?  David  here  compares 
the  process  it  must  undergo,  to  an  infant's 
sufferings  when  it  is  first  denied  its  accus- 
tomed food.  No  matter  how  gently  or  ten- 
derly its  mother  treats  it,  it  will  not  be  a 
weaned  child  without  many  a  struggle.  St. 
Paul  uses  a  bolder  figure.  He  compares 
it  to  the  pain  of  dying,  and  the  pangs  of 
crucifixion.  O  what  fools  are  we  !  We 
pray  for  a  heavenly  mind ;  God  hears  our 
prayers  ;  he  embitters  one  thing  to  us  and 
takes  away  another,  in  order  to  give  us  a 
heavenly  mind  ;  and  then,  "  Why  is  this  ?" 
we  ask  ;  we  wonder  and  complain.  Let 
us  rather  say,  "  Lord,  do  with  me  what 
thou  pleasest.  Strip  me  of  all  I  love;  cut, 
pierce,  and  wound  me  as  thou  wilt ;  only 
perfect  that  which  thou  hast  begun  in  me, 
only  beat  down  the  world  in  me,  make  my 
heart  thine  own,  and  I  will  bless  thee." 

There  are  others  of  you  who  are  ready 
to  complain,  not  of  your  troubles,  but  of  the 
unweaned  .condition  of  your  souls  under 
them.  "  We  could  bear,"  you  say,  "  our 
afflictions  and  thank  our  God  for  them,  did 
we  feel  that  they  were  detaching  us  from 
the  earth  and  making  us  heavenly-minded  ; 
but  we  have  been  often  in  trouble,  and  yet 
after  all  what  are  we  ?  One  half  of  our 
heart  is  still  left  in  the  world  we  profess  to 
have  forsaken,  and  we  cannot  get  it  away." 
And  where  is  the  infant  that  is  weaned  in 
an  hour  or  a  day  ?  Where  is  the  child 
that  after  one  burst  of  tears  and  sobbing, 
ceases  all  at  once  to  yearn  for  its  former 
food  ?  The  process  in  this  case  is  fre- 
quently a  long  as  well  as  a  painful  one  ; 
and  it  is  the  same  in  your  case,  and  must 
be. 

The  instant  God  converts  the  heart,  he 
begins  to  wean  it ;  but  he  does  not  say, 
"One  wrench  shall  do."  He  says  rather, 
"  I  will  lengthen  out  that  work  through  all 
that  man's  life.     To  his  dying  hour  it  shall 


be  going  on.  Every  year  he  lives,  he 
shall  be  like  an  infant  struggling  in  its 
mother's  arms."  He  accordingly  leaves 
in  the  heart  much  of  its  native  earthliness, 
and  this  often  rises  up  and  troubles  the  soul 
that  is  in  the  main  a  mortified  one.  It 
sometimes  makes  the  soul  fear  that  it  has 
never  loved  its  God,  and  never  sought  him. 
But,  brethren,  we  must  do  at  such  times  as 
David  says  he  did — we  must  "  behave  and 
quiet  ourselves.''  We  must  not  yield  to 
despondency  and  impatience.  We  must 
rather  fall  in  with  God's  slow  and  gradual 
method  of  disentangling  our  affections,  and 
submit  ourselves  quietly  to  his  blessed  will. 
We  must,  as  it  were,  begin  again.  By 
prayer,  and  watchfulness,  and  effort,  we 
must  aim  to  make  a  new  breach  between 
the  world  and  us.  Instead  of  repining  that 
the  work  is  so  long  in  doing,  let  us  rather 
wonder  at  the  Lord's  amazing  patience 
with  us  and  loving  kindness  towards  us 
while  doing  it.  O  the  opposition  we  make 
to  all  his  ways  of  blessing  us !  A  mother 
bearing  with  the  frowardness  of  a  half- 
weaned  child,  is  nothing  to  God  bearing 
with  his  self-willed  people.  He  weary  us  ? 
Is  it  not  rather  wonderful  that  we  liave  not 
long  ago  wearied  him  ?  I  say  not,  Take 
comfort  from  your  corruptions,  but  I  may 
say,  Take  comfort  from  the  long-suffering 
that  bears  with  you  in  your  corruptions. 
Is  it  not  a  proof  that  he  who  has  begun  so 
good  a  work  in  you,  means  to  finish  it  ? 
Does  it  not  seem  to  take  up  the  concluding 
words  of  this  psalm,  and  say,  "  Let  Israel 
hope  in  the  Lord  from  henceforth  and  for 
ever?" 

And  one  word  to  you  who  know  nothing 
of  this  weanedness  of  soul.  I  have  spoken 
of  it  as  not  perfect  in  any  heart ;  I  might 
speak  of  it  as  mournfully  imperfect  in  many 
really  Christian  hearts  ;  but  there  is  not  a 
Christian  heart  beating  on  the  earth,  that  is 
altogether  destitute  of  it.  If  it  has  no  place 
in  your  hearts,  they  most  certainly  are  not 
yet  under  the  inffuence  of  Christ's  Holy 
Spirit  or  Christ's  religion.  If  you  have 
not  learned  in  any  degree  to  withdraw 
your  affections  from  this  world,  you  have 
never  even  entered  the  way  which  leads 
to  a  better.  "  To  be  carnally  minded," 
the  scripture  says,  "  is  death."  "  To 
mind  earthly  things,"  it  tells  us  again,  is 
to  have  for  our  end  destruction.  It  does 
not  say  that  the  want  of  a  weaned  heart  is 
injurious  to  us  or  dangerous,  it  declares  i* 


SINNERS  MOURNING  FOR  TIIElR  PIERfED  LORD. 


113 


to  be  Tuinous.  Would  that  you  Iicliovod 
its  declarations  !  O  tliat  they  niifrhl  beiiin 
this  day  to  alarm  and  prieve  you  !  You 
are  in  a  world  ready  to  perisli.  If  you  are 
of  it  and  cleave  to  it,  you  will  assuredly 
perisli  with  it.  You  need  at  this  moment 
.icliverancn  from  it,  as  much  as  you  will 
need  deliverance  from  a  still  more  fearful 
world  in  the  great  day  of  Christ's  appearing. 


SERMON  XXIV 


THE  SUNDAY  NEXT  BEFORE  EASTER. 

SINNERS  MOURNING  FOR  THEIR  PIERCED 
LORD. 

Zeciiariaii  XII.  10. — "  They  shall  look  upon  me 
whom  they  have  piet'ced,  and  they  shall  mourn 
for  him,  as  one  mourneth  for  his  only  son;  and 
shall  be  in  bitterness  for  him,  as  one  that  is  in 
bitterness  for  his  first-born." 

This  was  predicted  of  the  Jews.  It  was 
fulfilled  in  part  on  the  day  of  Pentecost, 
when  three  thousand  of  them  together  were 
brought  to  repentance :  it  will  be  com- 
pletely fulfilled,  when  the  whole  nation  re- 
ceives the  gospel.  But  what  is  true  of  a 
converted  Jew,  is  true  also  of  a  converted 
Gentile  ;  so  that  if  we  are  really  Christian 
men,  this  scripture  is  as  true  of  us,  as  it 
ever  has  been  or  ever  will  be  of  any  man 
whatever.  It  describes  a  sorrow  which  we 
ourselves  have  felt  and  are  feeling  still  ;  a 
sorrow  that  forms,  in  every  instance,  one 
main  part  of  vital  godliness  ;  without  which 
we  have  no  more  real  Christianity  within 
us  than  a  heathen  or  a  .stone. 

It  is  a  godly  sorrow  for  sin  then,  that  is 
to  be  our  subject  to-day  ;  and  our  attention  is 
called  in  the  text  to  three  particulars  con- 
cerning it — first,  its  character  ;  then,  one 
of  the  causes  which  give  ri.se  to  it ;  and 
then,  thirdly,  how  it  is  that  this  cau.se  does 
give  rise  to  it.  And  O  that  before  we  have 
done,  many  here  may  say,  "  Lord,  let  this 
scripture  be  fulfilled  in  me.  Let  me  look 
■)n  him  whom  I  have  pierced,  and  mourn." 

1.  We  arc  to  consider  the  charncAe.r  of 
godly  sorrow.  And  in  what  a  simple,  yet 
atTecting  manner  does  the  text  set  this  forth 
to  us  !  It  compares  it  to  a  sorrow  we  have 
all  either  experienced  or  witnessed — a 
father's  or  mother's  sorrow  for  the  dealli  of 
15 


a  child,  only,  it  says,  mat  child  must  be  a 
very  dear  one,  an  "  only  son"  or  a  "  first- 
born." 

Now  this,  we  know,  is  a  real,  not  a  pre- 
tended sorrow. 

If  we  look  into  our  hearts,  many  of  us 
will  sec  that  our  sorrow  for  sin  is  all  pre- 
tence. We  know  we  are  sinners,  and  we 
know  also  that  we  ouyht  to  feel  much  grief 
on  account  of  our  sinfulness  ;  but  do  we 
feel  it  ?  Our  consciences  .say,  Never. 
We  are  not  exactly  hypocrites  in  the  matter. 
We  are  rather  like  those  persons  who  put 
on  mourning  for  a  friend  they  have  lost, 
and  are  content  with  that — they  do  not  re- 
ally grieve  for  him.  But  does  a  parent 
mourn  in  this  way  over  his  child  ?  Ask 
him.  iJoes  a  contrite  sinner  mourn  thus 
over  his  guiltiness  ?  Ask  him  also.  There 
is  the  reality  of  grief  in  both  these  men. 
They  will  both  say,  "  We  are  indeed 
mourners.  We  need  not  ask  whether  we 
ought  to  mourn — we  feel  that  we  must 
mourn.  The  Lord  grant  that  our  grief 
may  not  break  our  hearts." 

For  observe  again — this  sorrow  is  a  deep, 
not  a  superficial  or  slight  sorrow. 

We  may  really  mourn  for  a  friend,  but 
yet  mourn  for  him  very  little.  A  sigh  or 
two,  a  tear  or  two,  a  few  pensive  thoughts, 
and  our  grief  may  be  over.  But  not  so 
when  our  children  die.  Our  grief  then,  as 
some  of  us  well  know,  is  pungent  and  bit- 
ter.  It  is  not  only  in  the  heart,  but  down 
very  low  in  it.  We  can  enter  most  feel- 
ingly into  what  old  Jacob  said,  "  If  I  be  be- 
rcaved  of  my  children,  I  am  bereaved" — I 
am  desolate  indeed.  Now  turn  to  the  text. 
"They  shall  mourn,"  it  says,  "as  one 
mourneth  for  his  only  son  ;  and  shall  be  in 
bitterness,  as  one  that  is  in  bitterness  for  his 
first-born."  And  read  the  next  verse ;  "  In 
that  day  there  shall  be  a  great  mourning  in 
Jerusalem."  "  But  this,"  you  may  say, 
"applies  to  the  converted  Jews,  that  fear- 
fully guilty  people.  Is  it  true  of  all  con- 
verted sinners  ?  Is  every  penitent  heart 
afllicted  to  this  extent  ?"  I  answer,  not 
always  at  first,  for  it  does  not  half  know  at 
fir.st  what  it  has  to  afflict  it  ;  but  give  ii 
time,  let  the  S|)irit  of  God  work  on  it  a  few 
months  or  years,  and  the  result  is  certain, 
as  certain  as  daylight  when  the  sun  ri.ses, 
or  the  melting  of  ice  when  the  summer 
comes — that  heart  will  mourn  for  sin  as  it 
has  never  mourned  for  any  thing  else.  It 
will  want  now  no  sermon  or  book  to  ex- 


114 


SINNERS  MOURNING  FOR  THEIR  PIERCED  LOKD. 


plain  such  a  scripture  as  this.  Its  own 
deep,  bitter  feelings  vill  explain  it.  Bit- 
terly Jid  Peter  weep  when  he  wept  for  sin, 
and  die  anguish  of  David's  soul  when  he 
wept  for  it,  was  well  nigh  intolerable. 
Read  the  fifty-first  psalm,  or  the  thirty- 
eighth.  He  complains  in  them  of  broken 
bones  and  a  broken  heart.  "  I  am  trou- 
bled," he  says  ;  "  I  am  bowed  down  great- 
ly ;  I  go  mourning  all  the  day  long.  I 
am  feeble  and  sore  broken  ;  I  liave  roared 
by  reason  of  the  disquietness  of  my  heart." 

And  to  show  the  greatness  of  this  sorrow, 
mark  also  that  it  is  represented  here  as  a 
secret,  solitary  thing. 

Most  of  us,  when  our  hearts  are  full, 
wish  to  be  alone.  Deep  emotions  of  any 
kind  send  us  to  our  chambers.  Thus  we 
find  Joseph  hastening  to  his  chamber  when 
he  felt  that  he  must  weep ;  and  so  also,  we 
are  told,  David  went  up  into  his,  when  he 
wept  for  Absalom.  You  who  have  trou- 
bled hearts,  can  understand  this.  You  are 
secret  mourners,  and  feel  you  must  be  so. 
Your  bitterest  tears  are  shed  alone. 

Now  look  to  the  end  of  this  chapter. 
"The  land,"  we  read,  "shall  mourn,"  not 
as  in  other  times  of  public  affliction,  in  one 
solemn  assembly,  the  elders,  the  priests, 
the  ministers  of  the  Lord,  the  people  and 
children  all  weeping  together  in  the  tem- 
ple before  the  Lord — "  every  family  shall 
mourn  apart,  and  their  wives  apart."  There 
shall  be  no  passing  from  house  to  house. 
So  deep  shall  be  the  grief,  that  neighbor 
shall  have  "no  intercourse  with  neighbor,  no, 
nor  husband  with  his  wife.  The  land  shall 
be  full  of  solitary  mourners,  all  every- 
•where  getting  alone,  that  they  may  pour 
•out  their  hearts  in  secret.  And  great 
•stress  is  laid  here  on  this  circumstance. 
More  than  ten  times  is  this  word  "  apart" 
•repeated. 

The  question  is  then,  are  we  mourners 
•of  this  sort?  Do  we  mourn  apart,  alone 
and  in  secret,  over  our  sins  ?  If  not,  if  our 
sorrow  for  sin  is  confined  to  the  communion- 
table and  the  church,  if  our  chambers  and 
pillows  know  nothing  of  it,  we  may  be  sure 
that  God  knows  nothing  of  it ;  it  is  all  pre- 
tence ;  we  do  not  mourn  over  sin  at  all. 
Peter  "  went  out"  when  he  wept  bitterly  ; 
and  the  instant  our  hearts  are  smitten  by 
•God's  Holy  Spirit  we  shall  go  aside  too. 
Like  the  agitated  Joseph,  we  shall  seek 
where  to  weep,  and  enter  into  our  cham- 
ber  and   weep  there.       With   tlie    arrows 


of  God  in  us,  we  shall  go,  like  the  strickeD 
deer,  out  of  sight,  that  we  may  bleed  alone. 
O  for  this  secret  sorrow,  brethren,  in  your 
families  and  chambers !  It  would  soon 
make  those  families  and  those  chambers 
some  of  the  holiest,  yes,  and  some  of  the 
happiest,  in  the  world. 

We  may  remember  then  these  three 
marks  of  godly  sorrow — it  is  real,  deep, 
solitary.  "  A  strange  sorrow,"  some  of 
you  may  think,  and  no  Avonder — it  comes 
from  what  you  will  deem  a  strange  source. 

II.  Notice  now  one  of  the  causes  that  ex- 
cite it.  "  They  shall  look  upon  me  whom 
they  have  pierced,  and  they  shall  mourn." 

But  who  is  the  speaker  here  ?  It  is  clear 
that  he  must  be  the  great  God  himself;  for 
mark — he  says  in  the  beginning  of  the 
verse,  "  I  will  pour  upon  the  house  of 
David  and  upon  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusa- 
lem, the  Spirit  of  grace  and  of  supplica- 
tions;" and  who  can  send  down  this  Spirit 
from  heaven,  but  the  great  King  of  heaven, 
the  everlasting  Jehovah  ?  What  prophet 
or  angel  would  dare  to  say  that  he  would 
send  him  ?  But  then  we  read  here  that  he 
who  thus  pours  forth  the  Spirit,  has  been 
"pierced  ;"  and  this  represents  him  in 
another  and  lower  character,  as  a  crea- 
ture, a  vulnerable  man.  And  by  this  seem- 
ing contradiction,  the  text  discovers  to  us  at 
once  Avho  is  speaking  to  us.  It  is  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ ;  he  who  is  God  and  man  in 
one  flesh ;  he  who  is  so  high,  that  he  can 
give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  whomsoever  he 
pleases,  and  who  was  once  so  low,  that  the 
vilest  arm  on  the  earth  might  wound  him  ; 
and  wounded  he  was.  "  They  pierced  my 
hands  and  my  feet,"  he  says.  St.  John 
settles  this  point  beyond  all  dispute.  "  One 
of  the  soldiers,"  he  says,  "  with  a  spear 
pierced  his  side;"  and  then  he  immediately 
tells  us  why  he  was  allowed  of  God  to  do 
so — that  this  very  scripture  should  be  ful- 
filled, "  They  siiall  look  on  him  whom  they 
pierced." 

But  what  is  meant  here  by  "  looking" 
on  him?  The  Roman  soldier  who  pierced 
him,  could  see  him  ;  we  cannot.  Though 
in  spirit  he  is  near  us,  yea,  within  us  if 
we  are  his,  yet  in  liis  bodily  substance  he 
is  far  away.  We  can  no  more  behold  him, 
than  we  can  behold  the  throne  he  sits  on, 
or  a  fellow-creature  in  some  distant  land. 
Here  again  we  have  one  of  those  expres- 
sions of  frequent  occurrence  in  scripture. 
Outward  bodily  actions  are  made  use  o/ 


SINNERS  MOURNING  FOR  THE'R  PIERCSD  I  ?r.!>. 


115 


to  describe  inward  operations,  the  actings 
of  the  mind.  "  Come  unto  me,"  says  our 
Lord,  "  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  By  this 
he  means,  "  Let  your  souls  turn  to  me  for 
rest.  Seek  your  rest  in  me.  Make  me 
your  refuge  and  solace."  So  here;  ''They 
shall  look  on  me  ;"  that  is,  "They  shall 
attentively  consider  me  ;  I  shall  become 
the  object  of  their  close  contemplation  and 
searching  thoughts.  Their  minds  shall  be 
fastened  on  me."  And  so  the  word  is  ex- 
plained in  the  twelfth  chapter  of  the  epistle 
to  the  Hebrews.  "  Looking  unto  Jesus," 
the  apostle  says  in  the  second  verse,  and 
ttion  in  the  ne.xt  verse  he  adds,  meaning 
doubtless  the  very  same  thing,  "  Consider 
him;"  that  is,  "Contemplate  him;  think 
of  him  over  and  over  again." 

And  observe,  these  penitents  are  said  to 
look  on  him  as  "  pierced." 

Men  in  our  day  have  told  us,  that  one 
great  reason  why  the  Jews  are  not  con- 
verted, is,  that  we  do  not  sufficiently  ex- 
hibit the  Lord  Jesus  to  them  in  his  exalta- 
tion and  glory.  But  what  a  refutation  of 
all  such  assertions  is  here !  When  tliey 
are  converted,  they  shall  look  on  him,  says 
the  Spirit,  as  pierced,  as  abased  and  cruci- 
fied. 

Others  have  said  that  if  we  want  to  prize 
the  Lord  Jesus  more,  we  must  think  of  him 
more  as  enthroned  in  heaven.  And  we 
may  get  this  good  out  of  what  these  men 
say — to  take  care  lest  we  overlook  his  ma- 
jesty and  greatness.  But,  brethren,  we 
must  not  suffer  men  to  mislead  us.  If  we 
want  life  for  our  perishing  souls,  if  we 
wish  to  have  our  hard  hearts  really  broken 
to  pieces,  it  is  on  the  cross,  not  on  his 
throne,  that  we  must  contemplate  our  Lord. 
Then  took  they  Jesus  and  bound  him  ;  they 
stripped  and  scourged  him  ;  when  they  had 
platted  a  crown  of  thorns,  they  put  it  on  his 
head  ;  they  smote  him  with  their  hands  ; 
they  spat  on  him  ;  they  gave  him  gall  for 
his  meat,  and  in  his  thirst  they  gave  him 
vinegar  to  drink  ;  Jesus  cried  with  a  loud 
voice,  and  gave  up  the  ghost — O  i)retlircn, 
there  is  more  in  such  simple  words  as  these 
to  touch  our  hearts,  if  we  love  our  Afaster, 
than  there  would  be  in  all  the  blaze  of 
heaven's  glory.  It  is  a  blessed  thing  to 
look  on  the  Lord  Jesus  in  any  character  or 
in  any  condition  ;  there  comes  virtue  out 
of  him  to  do  us  good  ;  but  the  contrite  sin- 
ner finds  it  best  for  him  to  look  on  him  as 
his  pierced  Saviour,  his  bleeding  and  dying 


Lord.  And  he  himself  loves  best  to  be 
thus  looked  on.  No  emblem  of  his  great- 
ness  did  he  leave  behind  hifn,  no  sign  of  his 
majesty  and  power;  but  his  broken  body, 
his  poured  out  blood — "  Never  ibrgot  them," 
he  says.  "  Here  is  bread  and  wino  to  re- 
mind you  of  them.  Do  this  in  remem- 
brance of  me." 

But  observe  again — these  contrite  sinners 
are  described  as  looking  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
as  pierced  by  them ;  "  They  shall  look 
upon  me  whom  they  have  pierced."  How 
they  ?  I  answer,  not  literally  or  strictly, 
for  in  this  sense  the  prophecy  can  apply 
only  to  one  poor  heathen  soldier.  But  the 
same  act,  you  are  aware,  may  be  ascribed 
to  ditferent  persons  in  different  senses.  Let 
an  offender  against  the  laws  of  his  country 
be  put  to  death,  the  judge  may  be  said  to 
have  occasioned  his  death,  for  he  condemn, 
ed  him  ;  the  jury,  for  they  found  him 
guilty ;  the  executioner,  for  he  deprived 
him  of  life;  and  more  properly  still  the 
man's  own  crimes ;  he  dies  the  victim  of 
his  crimes.  Now  turn  to  our  Lord.  Herod 
crucified  him  ;  Pilate  crucified  him  ;  the 
Jews  with  wicked  hands  crucified  and  slew 
him.  And  who  besides  ?  The  transgres- 
sions that  he  died  for.  And  whose  were 
they  ?  Not  his  own,  for  the  very  judge 
who  condemned  him,  pronounced  him  inno- 
cent. They  were  ours.  "  He  was  wound- 
ed for  our  transgressions  ;  he  was  bruised 
for  our  iniquities  ;  the  chastisement  of  our 
peace  was  upon  him  ;"  and  we,  therefore, 
we  guilty  men,  may  be  said  to  have  slain 
him.  And  every  true  penitent  bears  this 
in  mind.  He  cannot  forget  it.  He  regards 
his  Lord,  as  not  only  pierced,  and  pierced 
for  him,  but  pierced  by  him.  "  I  sharp- 
ened that  spear,"  he  says.  "  My  wicked 
arm  gave  him  tiiat  blow.  It  was  my  cuilt, 
that  sent  the  iron  into  his  soul."  .\nd 
hence  springs  the  man's  sorrow.  Looking 
thus  on  the  Lord  Jesus,  he  learns  to  mourn 
for  sin  in  the  way  this  scripture  represents 
him  as  mourning  for  it — really,  deeply, 
secretly;  and  his  sorrow  is  greater  or  less, 
as  his  eye  is  fixed  more  or  less  intently  on 
his  suffering  Redeemer.  And  this  in  every 
case  holds  true.  I'oint  out  a  man  who 
thinks  lightly  of  the  Redeemer's  sufferings, 
who  does  not  remember  the  part  he  had  in 
them,  who  will  not  believe  that  they  were 
a  great  propitiation  for  his  great  sins — we 
do  not  want  to  ask  a  single  question  con- 
cerning  that    man  ;    we    are   as   sure    as 


116 


SINNERS  MOURNING  FOR  THEIR  PIERCED  LORD. 


though  we  saw  his  inmost  thoughts,  that 
he  is  not  a  mourner  in  Zion.  He  may  say- 
he  is  contrite,  but  he  does  not  even  under- 
stand what  contrition  means.  Am  I  speak- 
ing to  such  a  man?  If  so,  I  would  say  and 
say  it  plainly,  Brokenness  of  heart  is  not 
that  light  thing  you  deem  it.  Your  mis- 
called rational  religion  never  has  produced 
it ;  it  never  M'ill ;  no  more  than  the  cold 
moonbeams  will  thaw  ice.  You  have  a 
heart  that  will  never  break,  till  you  look 
on  the  dying  Jesus  and  say,  "He  is  dying 
for  me.  I  have  pierced  him.  It  is  the  bur- 
den of  my  iniquities  ihat  is  pressing  on  his 
soul." 

III.  We  may  now  pass  on  to  inquire 
hotv  it  is  that  godly  sorroto  arises  from  this 
source ;  in  other  words,  why  this  looking 
on  his  crucified  Lord  makes  the  believer 
mourn. 

Some  of  us  might  rather  have  expected 
to  read,  it  will  make  him  rejoice ;  for  he 
sees  there  a  price  paying  for  his  ransom. 
But  this  is  not  said.  We  read,  "  They 
shall  look  on  me  and  mourn." 

And  how,  I  would  ask,  can  it  be  other- 
wise ?  Place  yourselves  in  imagination  by 
the  side  of  some  dear  friend  lying  cold  and 
dead.  Let  some  one  come  and  tell  you  in 
that  situation,  that  he  died  a  lingering  and 
painful  death,  after  having  endured  for 
years  before  a  long  series  of  troubles,  griefs, 
and  labors ;  youi-  hearts  would  feel,  breth- 
ren. But  suppose  it  was  added  that  he 
thus  lived  and  thus  died  to  render  you  some 
great  service ;  and  more — that  it  was 
through  your  own  folly  and  wickedness, 
that  all  his  dreadful  sufferings  came  upon 
him.  Suppose  too  something  within  you 
said,  as  you  looked  on  his  emaciated  and 
wo- worn  frame,  "It  is  all  true;  this  real- 
ly has  been  my  work  ;"  should  you  not  be 
pierced  to  the  quick  ?  Should  you  say, 
"  I  shall  derive  this  and  that  good  from  his 
death  V  Should  you  not  rather  say, 
"  Let  me  get  somewhere  alone  and  weep  ?" 
Would  not  this  text  describe,  and  describe 
well,  your  feelings  and  conduct?  If  ever 
there  were  men  on  the  earth,  who  were 
real,  bitter,  solitary  mourners,  they  would 
be  you.  You  know  how  to  apply  this. 
The  comparison  is  weak,  but  it  will  show 
you  that  great  sorrow  in  a  Christian's  heart 
as  he  thinks  of  his  dying  Lord,  is  a  natural 
thing,  a  reusonable  thing,  an  unavoidable 
thing.  You  will  not  say  to  me,  "  Go  on 
and  prove  to  us  that  we  shall  feel  it."    You 


will  rather  say,  "  We  do  feel  it.  How 
can  we  avoid  it  ?  O  that  we  felt  it  more  ! 
O  that  we  could  weep  day  and  night  for 
the  death  of  our  blessed  Master,  and  fo 
our  base  transgressions  which  were  the 
causes  of  it  !  O  the  enormous  guilt  of 
those  transgressions  !  What  must  it  be, 
how  fearfully  great  and  dark,  to  have 
brought  the  King  of  glory  thus  low  !"  "  It 
is  no  common  blood,"  says  the  sinner,  "  that 
is  flowing  there  for  me.  There  dies  for 
me  God's  everlasting  Son,  yea,  my  incar- 
nate God  himself.  And  O  the  amazing 
love  there  must  be  in  his  soul  to  be  willing 
to  stoop  so  low  for  one  so  vile  !  My  heart 
has  swelled  nigh  to  bursting  as  I  have 
looked  on  a  departed  friend,  and  thought 
within  myself,  '  How  did  that  man,  or  that 
woman,  love  me  !'  but  here  is  love  !  The 
sword  of  justice  was  drawn  to  smite  me  ; 
and  what  did  my  Saviour  do  ?  Pity  me  ? 
Plead  and  entreat  that  it  might  not  smite 
me  ?  1(0  ;  he  came  between  me  and  that 
sword,  and  received  its  thrust  into  hv^  owr 
heart.  And  after  all  this,  what  have  1 
been,  and  what  am  I  still  ?  His  devoted 
servant?  talking  of  his  love  every  hour, 
singing  his  praises,  doing  his  work  in  the 
world,  and  bringing  honor  in  it  to  his  name  \ 
Alas'  I  have  lived,  for  the  greater  part, 
as  though  I  owed  him  nothing ;  as  though 
he  haa  never  shown  me  a  single  kindness, 
or  shed  for  me  a  tear.  And  ask  you  me 
why  I  mourn  as  I  think  of  him  ?  Rather 
ask  how  it  is  that  I  can  do  any  thing  else. 
You  may  tell  me  that  I  need  not  mourn  ; 
1  feel  that  I  must.  The  Lord  pardon  me 
that  I  mourn  so  little  !" 

And  now,  brethren,  what  are  M'e  to  learn 
from  all  this  ?     At  least  two  things. 

One  is,  the  high  place  ice  ought  to  give 
sorrow  for  sin  among  Christian  graces.  See 
how  much  is  brought  forward  in  this  single 
verse  as  combining  to  produce  it.  Here  is 
our  Lord  first  on  his  throne.  In  order  that 
we  may  iiave  it,  he  promises  to  pour  out  his 
Holy  Spirit  upon  us,  "  the  Spirit  of  grace 
and  of  supplications  ;"  that  is,  he  will  put 
his  grace  abundantly  into  our  hearts,  and 
excite  in  our  hearts  by  it  much  supplica- 
tion  and  prayer.  "  And  now,"  we  may 
say,  "  the  work  is  done.  With  grace  in 
our  hearts  making  us  praying  men,  we 
shall  surely  be  contrite  men."  But  no ; 
something  more  is  yet  needed.  The  Sa- 
viour must  leave  his  throne,  and  exhibit 
himself  to  us  on  the  cross  ;  he  must  cause 


THE  PERFECTION  OF  CHRIST'S  ATONEMENT. 


[17 


«s  to  look  on  him  there,  and  to  fec-i  as  we 
look  that  we  sent  him  there  ;  and  then  at 
last  ihis  sorrow  for  sin  springs  up  in  us,  we 
are  at  last  mourners.  All  this  process  is 
gone  through,  not  to  fill  our  hearts  with 
hope  and  joy,  but  to  soften  and  break  them. 
You  S5ee  then,  brethren,  what  we  really 
make  light  of,  if  we  at  any  time  make 
litrlit  of  godly  sorrow.  We  set  at  naught 
all  the  things  that  lead  to  this  sorrow  and 
are  connected  with  it — the  grace  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  supplication  and  prayer,  a 
looking  by  faith  on  our  dying  Lord. 

And  to  raise  this  grace  still  higher  in 
our  estimation,  observe  the  peculiar  man- 
ner in  which  it  is  here  described.  It  is 
called  a  mourning  for  Christ  himself. 
Sin  is  nowhere  mentioned  in  the  whole 
passage,  though  it  is  everywhere  meant. 
Onr  Lord  seems  to  speak  as  though  it  were 
a  mourning  that  gives  him  pleasure  ;  just 
as  we  mijzht  suppose  our  sorrow  for  a  de- 
parted friend  would  give  pleasure  to  the 
spirit  of  that  friend,  were  he  conscious  of 
it.  There  is  love  for  him,  strong  atfection 
for  him,  in  this  sorrow  ;  and  because  there 
is,  he  delights  in  it. 

The  second  thing  to  be  inferred  from  this 
scripture,  is,  the  earnrstness  loilh  which  toe 
ought  to  desire  for  ourselves  ihis  holy  mourn- 
ing. "  Desire  it  ?"  you  may  say.  "  De- 
sire sorrow,  and  a  sorrow  of  this  deep  and 
bitter  kind  ?"  I  answer,  Yes,  desire  it. 
You  know  not  how  precious  it  is,  nor  how 
blessed.  No  man  yet  who  ever  possessed 
it,  has  wished  to  get  rid  of  it.  It  is  indeed 
a  bitter  thing  ;  there  comes  along  with  it 
many  a  tear  and  pang;  but  yet  there  is 
mingled  with  it  a  comfort  and  a  blessed- 
ness which  must  be  felt  to  be  known.  The 
very  look  which  makes  the  heart  bleed,  is 
a  look  at  One  who  can  do  n^oic  than  heal 
it.  While  the  soul  mourns,  its  pierced 
Saviour  is  speaking  peace  to  it ;  and  better 
to  mourn  with  him  for  our  comforter,  than 
to  be  the  most  rejoicing  of  the  joyous  with 
him  far  away. 

Pray  for  this  sorrow,  brethren.  You 
have  asked  perhaps  for  many  mercies  of 
God  ;  begin  to-day  to  ask  for  this.  Others 
around  you  have  been  mourning  long  for 
their  siiis ;  why  should  you  go  on  all 
through  your  life  making  "light  of  yours? 
When  would  you  mourn  and  weep  for 
them  if  not  now  ?  Somewhere  you  mu.st 
weep  for  them  ;  would  you  keep  back  this 
weeping    till   you   come  into  that   world. 


where  tears  are  never  dried   up  ;  where 
you   must  weep,  if  you  weep  at  all,  forev- 
er ?     And  somewhere   too  you  must  look 
on  this  pierced  Jesus.     Will  you  look  on 
him  for  the   first  time  when  he  opens  the 
heavens  and  calls  you  out  of  your  graves 
to  his  judgment-seat  ?     "  Behold,  he  Com- 
eth with  clouds,  and  every  eye  shall  see 
him,  and   they  also  which   pierced   him." 
It  is  a  blessed  though  a  mournful  thing  to 
see  him  now,  but  it  is  a  dreadful  thing  to 
see  him  for  the  first  time  in  the  very  mo- 
ment when  his  work  of  mercy  is  forever 
ended,  when  the  fountain  he  has  opened  for 
sin  and  for  uncleanness  is  forever  closed. 
Beseech  him  to  reveal  himself  to  you  this 
very  day.     Implore  him  to  give  you  now 
a  true  and  realizing  fliith  in  him.    Let  your 
prayer  be,  "  Lord,  pour  out  on  me  this  day 
the  Spirit  of  grace.     Turn  my  unworthy 
eves  on  thee  ;  cause  me  to   feel  the  guilt 
of  those  sins  which  crucified  thee;  and  bid 
me  mourn.     Thy  grace  is  free,  and  it  is 
mighty.     How   easy   were  it   for  thee  to 
give  mc  repentance  unto  life  !     One  touch 
of  thy  hand,  O  blessed   Saviour,  yea.  one 
word  or  one  look  of  thine,  could  break  at 
once  this   hard  heart  within   me.     O  turn 
unto  me,  and  have  mercy  upon  me.    Take 
away  the  heart  of  stone,  and  give   me  a 
heart  of  flesh.     O  put  within  me  that  bro- 
ken and  contrite  heart,  which  thou  wilt  not 
.  despi.se." 


SERMON  XXV. 


GOOD-FRIDAY. 

THE  PERFECTION  OF  CHRIST'S  ATONE- 
MENT. 

Hebrews  x.  12,  1.3,  14.—"  But  this  Man,  after 
he  had  offrrcd  one  mcrificc  for  sins,  for  ever 
sat  down  an  the  rif^ht  hand  of  God,  from  hence- 
forth expirtiu<r  till  his  enemies  be  made  his 
footstool ;  for  In/  one  offcrins:  he  hath  perfected 
for  ever  thcui  that  are  sanclifed.'" 

OuK  chur-jh  is  calling  on  us  to-day  to 
commemorate  in  an  especial  manner  our 
Lord's  crucifixion.  The  apo.stle,  in  this 
chapter,  sets  forth  the  object  of  his  cruci- 
fi.\ion,  and  the  completeness  with  which  it 
has  been  accomplishrd.  In  the  text  iii.ieed 
he  seems  to  be  viewing  him  ii 


•xaite 


118 


THE  PERFECTION  OF  CHRIST'S  ATOiXExMENT. 


tion  rather  than  in  his  sufferings,  but  he 
has  still  the  same  thing  in  his  mind — he 
sees  in  his  exaltation  a  proufof  the  efficacy 
dF  his  sufTerings.  He  would  not  now  have 
been  there,  he  intimates,  on  that  lofty  throne, 
had  he  not  first  done  for  us  on  his  cross  all 
that  was  needful  for  us,  all  that  humiliation 
and  suffering  ever  can  accomplish.  He 
places  the  Lord  Jesus  before  us  in  two  situ- 
ations— jfirst  on  earth,  and  then  in  heaven. 

I.  We  see  him  on  the  earth  ;  and  this  is 
what  he  is  said  to  have  done  here — "  he 
oflered  one  sacrifice  for  sins." 

The  apostle,  we  must  remember,  is  both 
comparing  and  contrasting  him  with  the 
Jewish  priests.  His  object  is  to  show  us 
that  he  is  all  to  the  church  these  priests 
ever  were,  and  all  in  a  much  higher  de- 
gree. 

He,  first,  compares  himrnth  them. 

Now  one  part  of  their  oflice  was  to  make 
reconciliation  or  atonement  for  the  sins  of 
the  people.  Previously  to  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Mosaic  law,  any  one  might 
build  his  altar  and  slay  his  victim  ;  but  the 
law  put  a  stop  to  this.  The  people  were 
no  longer  to  offer  sacrifices  each  one  for 
himself;  an  order  of  priests  was  appointed 
to  sacrifice  for  them.  And  thus  more  thor- 
oughly the  church  was  taught  that  it  could 
do  nothing  whatever  towards  the  expiating 
of  its  own  transgressions.  And  we  can  do 
nothing,  brethren.  We  Christians  under 
the  gospel  are  just  as  helpless  in  this  re- 
spect, as  the  Jews  were  under  the  law. 
There  is  a  burden  of  guilt  on  us,  a  dark 
mass  of  it;  and  we  can  no  more  remove  it 
off  us,  than  we  could  remove  the  huge 
mountains  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  We 
have  nothing  to  present  to  God  as  a  com- 
pensation or  atonement  for  our  sins  ;  and 
had  we  ever  so  much,  God  would  not  ac- 
cept it  at  our  hands.  Wo  are  so  sinful, 
that  coming  to  him  in  our  own  name, 
he  will  receive  nothing  at  our  hands,  he 
will  not  suffer  us  even  to  approach  him. 
But  we,  like  the  Jews,  have  a  priest  provi- 
ded for  us  ;  and  what  does  he  do  ?  Take 
our  sacrifices,  our  repentance  and  prayers 
and  good  works,  and  offer  them  up  as  a 
propitiation  to  his  holy  Father  for  our  sins  ? 
Some  men  will  tell  us  so,  but  we  might  as 
well  expect  him  to  take  a  mass  of  our  dark 
earth,  and  place  it  in  the  skies  above  us  in- 
stead of  the  sun,  to  make  us  a  day.  Christ 
offered  up  himself  for  us.  The  former  part 
of  the  chapter  describes  him  as  coming  into 


the  world  for  this  very  purpose,  and  taxing 
on  him  for  this  purpose  the  mortal  body 
prepared  for  him.  Standing  liere  before 
God  as  the  great  High  Priest  of  his  church, 
and  seeing  that  his  church  had  nothing  to 
offer  ;  seeing  that  God  took  no  pleasure  in 
the  blood  of  bulls  and  of  goats,  or  in  any 
of  the  sacrifices  that  were  offered  under 
the  law,  he  put  tliem  all  aside,  and  laid 
himself  dovrn  on  God's  altar.  The  priest 
himself  became  the  victiin.  He  made  his 
own  body  and  liis  own  soul,  himself  in  his 
whole,  entire  human  nature,  an  otiering 
and  a  willing  offering  for  our  sins. 

Thus  far  then  our  Lord  resembles  the 
Jewish  priests — he  really  offered  a  sacri- 
fice. 

But  the  apostle  also  contrasts  him  with 
them.  He  made,  he  says,  one  sacrifice 
only. 

"  Every  priest,"  we  read  in  the  eleventh 
verse,  "  standeth  daily  ministering,  and  of- 
fering oftentimes  the  same  sacrifices." 
Under  the  law,  there  was  no  end  to  the 
priests'  woi'k.  Some  of  them  were  obliged 
to  be  standing  all  the  day  long  at  the  altar, 
occupied  in  sacrificing  or  prepared  for  it  ; 
for  besides  the  two  great  public  sacrifices 
at  morning  and  evening,  any  man  might 
bring  his  sin-offering  or  trespass-offering  at 
any  hour  to  the  temple,  and  there  must  be 
a  priest  waiting  to  receive  and  present  it. 
And  all  this  went  on  year  after  year  lor 
ages.  The  fire  on  the  altar  was  kept  con- 
tinually burning,  and  the  blood  of  victims 
almost  as  continually  flowing — significant 
but  awful  emblems  of  the  unceasing,  ever- 
burning displeasure  of  Jehovah  against 
man's  transgressions,  and  the  utter  insuffi- 
ciency of  all  that  man  can  do,  to  remove 
it.  "  But  this  Man,"  says  the  text,  the 
Lord  Jesus,  our  great  High  Priest,  "  offer- 
ed one  sacrifice,"  one  only,  and  when  he 
had  offered  that,  his  work  was  done.  There 
was  in  this  case  no  perpetual  standing  by 
tiie  altar,  no  daily  ministering,  no  multi- 
j)lying  of  victims.  His  precious  blood  once 
shed,  all  i?  over.  The  fire  on  the  altar 
goes  out,  and  the  altar  itself  is  soon  thrown 
down  and  destroyed. 

And  here  become  evident  two  blessed 
truths. 

1.  One  sacrifice  serves  for  all  God's 
church — not  only  one  priest,  but  one  ofier- 
ing. 

Tlie  number  that  form  this  church,  we 
cannot  estimate.     It  is  represented  however 


THE  PERFECTION  OF  CHRIST'S  ATONEMENT. 


119 


in  scripture  as  so  exceedingly  great,  that  I 
even  Christ  himself  at  the  last,  with  all  his  i 
mighty  love  for  sinners,  does  not  wish  it 
greater.  It  satisfies  him,  we  are  told,  sat- 
isfies him  for  the  travail  of  his  soul.  Now 
comes  this  text  and  says,  all  this  immense 
multitude  redeemed  from  among  men,  owe 
all  their  salvation,  all  their  safety,  happi- 
ness, and  glory,  to  one  sacrifice  only,  one 
ottering  once  offered,  "  the  ollering  of  the 
body  of  Jesus  Christ  once  for  all."  The 
blood  of  Jesus  Christ  it  describes  as  so  effi- 
cacious, so  precious,  that  its  virtue  extends 
to  all  believing  sinners  in  all  ages  of  the 
world.  It  reaches  backward  to  Adam, 
the  first  of  mortal  sinners  ;  it  reaches  for- 
ward to  the  last  of  Adam's  sons,  that  shall 
be  born  on  the  earth  and  cry  for  mercy  on 
it.  No  matter  how  many  sinners  may  need 
it,  it  is  enough  for  all  ;  and  no  matter  how 
long  sinner  after  sinner  may  apply  to  it,  it 
is  enough  still.  Would  you  know  the  ex- 
tent of  this  sacrifice,  brethren,  where  its 
power  stops  ?  We  cannot  tell  you  ;  but 
we  can  tell  you  this — it  is  as  extensive  as 
human  guilt.  "  All  we,"  says  Isaiah, 
"  have  gone  astray,  we  have  turned  every 
one  to  his  own  way" — there  is  the  evil,  the 
wide  extent  of  it ;  now  comes  the  broad, 
ample  remedy — "  the  Lord  hath  laid  on 
him  the  iniquity  of  us  all." 

2.  This  one  offering  of  Christ  serves  ef- 
fectually for  all  God's  church.  Not  only 
are  all  his  people  cleansed,  they  are  ail 
fully  and  eternally  cleansed,  by  it. 

Tliis  was  the  trutli  dear  above  all  others 
to  the  apostle's  heart,  and  he  labors  in 
this  epistle  and  in  other  parts  of  his  writings, 
to  prove  and  establish  it.  No  other  sacri- 
fice, he  tells  us  here,  could  accomplish  this 
great  work.  The  legal  sacrifices  certainly 
could  not.  They  were  no  real  expiations 
of  sin,  he  says  in  the  beginning  of  this 
chapter,  but  rather  "  remembrances  of 
sins,"  acknowledgments  and  memorials  of 
it.  Their  very  number,  he  argues,  their 
long  continuance  in  the  church,  proves 
their  insufficiency,  for  why  were  they  so 
continually  repeated  if  their  work  was 
done  ?  Why  did  they  not  cease  if  the  wor- 
shippers were  cleansed  ?  But  there  tliey 
were  going  on  year  after  year,  staining 
the  altar  anew  morning  and  evening,  and 
proclaiming  anew  morning  and  evening  to 
the  assembled  people  that  sin  still  rested  on 
their  souls  ;  that  many  as  had  been  the 
sacrifices  which  had  bled  for  them,  their 


sin  remained,  and  they  needed  still  some 
nobler,  some  more  efficacious  sacrifice  lo 
take  it  away.  But  the  Lord  Jesus  comes, 
his  blood  ffows  on  the  altar,  and  there  ends 
forever  all  sacrifice  and  offering.  It  ends 
because  it  is  no  longer  needed,  there  is 
nothing  now  left  for  it  to  do.  The  sins  of 
God's  people  are  now  expiated,  all  without 
exception,  and  all  perfectly  and  eternally 
without  recall.  Hence  it  is  said  in  the  text, 
"  he  hath  perfected,"  and  perfected  "  for 
ever,  them  that  are  sanctified  ;"  that  is,  he 
has  left  nothing  to  be  done  for  the  expiating 
of  their  guilt,  nothing  by  them  and  nothing 
for  them.  The  atonement  he  lias  made  for 
it,  is  all  that  God  asks  for,  all  he  will  ever 
ask  for  ;  it  satisfies  God,  and  will  satisfy 
him  forever.  Hence  too  it  was  predicted 
of  him,  that  when  he  should  make  recon- 
ciliation for  iniquity,  he  should  "  finish  the 
transgression  and  make  an  end  of  sins  ;" 
so  completely  atone  for  them,  that  he 
should  put  them,  as  it  were,  out  of  ex- 
istence, exterminate  them.  And  as  though 
anticipating  this,  the  Lord  says  in  another 
place,  "  The  initjuity  of  Israel  shall  be 
sought  for,  and  there  sliall  be  none  ;  and 
the  sins  of  Judah,  and  they  shall  not  be 
found." 

If  we  ask,  what  gives  this  sacrifice  its  im- 
mense superiority  over  all  others,  its  per- 
fect, boundless  virtue  ?  the  answer  is  easy 
— it  is  a  sacrifice  offered  by  God  himself  to 
his  own  dishonored  justice  ;  not  only  cho- 
sen  by  him,  and  therefore  precious  ;  not 
only  appointed  by  him,  and  therefore  ac- 
ceptable ;  but  provided  by  him  and  offered 
by  him;  he  himself,  in  tlie  person  of  his 
everlasting  Son,  is  tiie  priest,  and  scripture 
would  almost  bear  us  out  were  we  to  say, 
he  himself  is  the  victim.  The  Man  of 
whom  this  text  speaks,  is  God  incarnate,  a 
man  in  whom  the  eternal  Son  of  the  High- 
est has  taken  up  his  dwelling,  and  with 
whom  he  has  united  and  identified  himself. 
He  is  as  truly  God  as  he  is  man,  so  that 
when  he  offered  his  one  sacrifice  for  sins, 
though  it  was  his  human  nature  only  that 
he  laid  down,  yet  we  may  say  that  it  was 
the  mighty  God  who  laid  it  down.  Jeho- 
vah himself  furnished  the  sacrifice  for  Je- 
hovah's people.  Therefore  "  the  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ  cleanse:!;  from  all  sin,"  be- 
cause it  was  the  bloo  i  of  one  identified 
with  the  Godhead.  His  union  with  the 
Godhead  gave  to  his  blood  a  virtue  that  is 
boundless^  infinite  as  Jiis  own  infinite  na- 


120 


THE  PERFECTION  OF  CHRIST.S  ATONEMENT. 


ture,  wide  and  vast  as  our  sins  and  lasting 
as  eternity. 

II.  We  must  now  follow  our  Lord  i7ito 
heaven.  The  text  carries  him  there,  and 
it  carries  him  there,  we  must  remember,  in 
his  human  nature  ;  and  more  than  that — 
.n  the  character  he  bore  here  in  his  human 
nature,  the  great  Expiator  of  our  sins. 
■*  This  Man,"  it  says,  "  after  he  had  offer- 
ed one  sacrifice  for  sins,  for  ever  sat  down 
on  the  right  hand  of  God,  from  henceforth 
expecting  till  his  enemies  be  made  his  foot- 
stool." There  is  an  allusion  here  to  Psalm 
ex.  1.  "  The  Lord  said  unto  my  Lord, 
Sit  thou  at  my  right  hand  until  I  make 
thine  enemies  thy  footstool."  This  sci'ip- 
ture  seems  to  have  struck  the  apostle's 
mind  with  peculiar  force,  for  he  has  refer- 
red to  it  in  his  writings  three  times  over. 
The  reason  probably  is,  that  it  conveyed  to 
his  spiritual  mind  most  glorious  ideas  of  his 
Lord's  greatness  ;  and  in  the  contemplation 
of  his  glory  and  greatness  rested  much  of 
his  own  happiness.  And  there,  brethren, 
will  more  of  our  happiness  rest,  as  we  more 
and  more  love  the  Saviour,  and  have  our 
hearts  raised  to  the  heaven  he  inhabits. 

His  language  intimates  to  us,  first,  the 
repose  of  Christ  in  heaven,  a  repose  indi- 
cating the  completeness  and  perfection  of 
the  work  he  had  performed  on  eartli. 

The  Levitical  priests,  the  apostle  says, 
"  stand  daily  ministering,"  are  kept  stand- 
ing and  sacrificing,  because  their  offerings 
are  still  incomplete  ;  "  this  Man,  when  he 
had  offered  One  sacrifice  for  sins,"  not  only 
ceased  from  offering,  but  went  and  "  sat 
down,"  sat  down  "  for  ever,"  like  one  wjio 
knows  that  he  has  no  more  to  do,  can  never 
again  have  a  sacrifice  to  offer,  can  remain 
in  unalterable,  undisturbed,  eternal  rest. 
The  position  he  takes  sliows  us  that  there 
is  a  consciousness  in  his  mind  of  the  conv 
pleteness  of  his  atoning  work. 

The  apostle's  language  declares  also  Ihc 
high  exaltation  of  Christ  in  heaven. 

Two  of  his  peoj)le,  it  would  seem,  had 
ah'eady  gone  there  as  ]'C  wci'.t,  in  hurnnii 
flesh,  Enoch  and  Elijah.  The  angels,  wc 
may  suppose,  must  h-'Ve  wonderrd  as  they 
saw  them  entering  ti.iit  holy  world,  and 
advancing  onward  and  onward  in  it  till 
they  drew  near  as  themselves  tc^  .fehovali's 
throne.  But  here  comes  one  in  human 
flesh,  and  stops  not  till  he  reaches  that 
throne  itself.  He  ascends  where  no  angel 
ever  yet  dared  to  ascend  or  could  ascend  ; 


he  places  himself  by  Jehovah's  side  on  Je- 
hovah's  throne.  And  the  great  Jehovah 
bears  this.  He  welcomes  there  this  Son  of 
Man,  and  bids  him  remain  there  for  ever- 
lasting ages.  And  not  only  so,  he  investb 
him  tlrere  with  sovereignty  and  power.  He 
might  have  been  exalted  to  God's  right 
hand,  and  when  there  have  sat  in  unem- 
ployed enjoyment  of  his  height  and  glory  ; 
but  he  sits  there  as  God's  minister  and  re- 
presentative, to  rule  over  all  things  in  God's 
stead.  Tlie  eternal  Father  puts  the  sceptre 
of  his  government  into  his  hands,  commits 
the  empire  of  his  church  and  kingdom  and 
universal  nature  to  him,  and  bids  him  anti- 
cipate the  time  when  all  things  in  them 
shall  be  subdued  to  his  sovereign  will. 
"  Expecting  till  his  enemies  be  made  hi? 
footstool" — looking  forward  to  the  hour 
when  every  knee  shall  bow  to  him,  when 
there  shall  not  be  a  single  creature  through- 
out God's  universe,  who  does  not  feel  his 
greatness  and  acknowledge  his  authority 
and  power. 

But  what  connection,  you  may  ask,  has 
this  with  his  earthly  sufferings  ?  What 
have  his  present  exaltation  and  his  future 
universal  empire  to  do  with  his  long  ago 
offered  sacrifice?  They  arise  out  of  tha, 
sacrifice,  they  are  the  fruits  and  results  of 
it.  "  He  became  obedient  unto  death," 
says  this  apostle,  "  even  the  death  of  the 
cross  ;  wherefore  God  also  hath  exalted 
him."  "  Therefore,"  says  the  Lord  by 
Isaiah,  "  will  I  divide  him  a  portion  with  the 
great,  and  he  shall  divide  the  spoil  with 
the  strong  :"  wherefore  ?  "  Because  he 
Iiath  poured  out  his  soul  unto  death,  and 
he  was  numbered  with  the  transgressors, 
and  he  bare  the  sin  of  many."  These 
scriptures  show  that  our  Lord's  glory  is 
most  closely  connected  with  his  sufferings 
and  sacrifice.  They  not  only  follow  one 
another  in  order  of  time,  but  they  are 
connected  one  with  another  as  cause  and 
eflcct.  And  from  this  we  may  infer  the 
efficacy  of  his  sufierings,  the  completeness 
of  his  sacrifice.  More  than  the  salvation 
of  his  people  was  made  to  depend  on  his 
offering  for  sin  ;  his  own  exaltation  and 
glory  as  the  Son  of  Man  were  suspended 
on  it.  They  wore  the  promised  rewards  of 
his  work  on  earth,  and  when  we  see  him 
ascending  i>n  high  and  receiving  these  re- 
wards, exalted  to  God's  right  hand  and 
reigning  in  glory  there,  we  know  that  his 
work  is    done,    and    eficctuullv  and  com- 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  CHRIST  GLAD  TIDINGS. 


121 


pletely  done.  The  offering  he  has  made, 
has  raised  him  from  this  low  world,  from 
the  CK'ss  and  the  grave,  to  Jehovah's 
throne  ;  it  is  therefore  an  offering  accept- 
able to  .fehovah,  satisfactory  to  him,  a  per- 
fect offering,  and  by  it  "  he  hath  perfected 
for  ever  them  that  are  sanctified."  He  him- 
.self  is  at  the  very  summit  of  heaven  by 
virtue  of  it — a  blessed  proof  to  his  people 
that  they  shall  be  raised  to  heaven  by  vir- 
tue of  it,  that  he  has  opened  by  it  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  to  all  believers.  It  has 
exalted  him,  and  it  \vill  exalt  us.  It  has 
placed  him  near  to  God,  and  it  will  bring 
us  nigh. 

On  reviewing  what  has  been  now  said, 
the  first  thing  which  occurs  to  us,  is  the 
strange  reception  which  the  great  truth 
taught  us  in  this  text,  meets  with  in  our 
world.  Look  at  the  great  mass  of  nomi- 
nal Christians — were  we  to  say  that  tl;ey 
are  all  as  one  man  at  war  against  it,  we 
should  hardly  be  overstating  the  fact. 
What  is  popery  but  one  great  effort  to 
corrupt,  smother,  and  conceal  it  ?  Its 
masses,  its  penances,  its  mediators,  its  pur- 
gatory, almost  every  thing  that  is  peculiar 
to  it,  strikes  directly  at  the  all-sufficiency 
of  the  Redeemer's  sacrifice.  No  man  can 
be  a  consistent  follower  of  that  wretched 
faith,  but  he  must  at  every  turn  put  under 
his  feet  this  glorious  truth  ;  he  must  either 
altogether  reject  or  altogether  forget  it.  I 
scarcely  dare  speak  of  the  opposition  now 
rising  up  within  our  own  church  to  it.  It 
is  painful,  deeply  painful ;  were  it  not  so 
daring  and  fearful,  it  would  be  pitiable. 
A  church  such  as  ours,  so  blessed,  so  fa- 
vored above  all  others,  to  be  the  church 
above  all  others  in  protestant  lands  to  deny 
the  perfection  of  its  great  Saviour's  suffer- 
ings, and  to  talk  about  the  sacrifice  of  sa- 
craments, and  the  atoning  power  of  alms- 
givings, and  fastings,  and  penitence,  and 
our  poor,  miserable  works  !  May  the  Lord 
pardon  us  in  this  thing,  und  speedily  avert 
from  us  the  sin  and  danger  of  it !  13ut  the 
evil  lies  deep  in  our  nature,  brethren.  We 
are  all  naturally  opposed  to  the  free  and 
full  salvation  of. lesus  Christ.  It  is  not  only 
something  high  Ix-yontl  our  expectations,  it 
is  something  humbling  beyond  what  we 
conceive  to  be  our  condition  and  deserts. 
While  it  tells  us  we  have  nothing  to  do  in  or- 
der  to  have  our  sins  remitted,  i)ut  to  take  the 
full  remission  Christ  has  purchased,  it  tells 
us  as  plainly  that  we  can  do  nothing,  that 
16 


'  the  guilt  of  our  sins  is  too  heinous  and  enor- 
'  mous  for  us  to  remove  the  smallest  ])art  of 
I  it  ;  and  this  we  cannot  bear ;  we  look  fa- 
vorably on,  tolerate,  perhaps  embrace,  any 
system,  no  matter  how  unscriptural,  ab- 
surd, or  heathenish,  which  represents  sin 
as  a  less  evil  than  the  gospel  makes  it,  and 
ourselves  as  less  criminal  and  fallen. 

And  turn  to  tliose  among  us,  who  pro- 
fess to  value  this  blessed  truth — what  diffi- 
culty  do  even  we  find  in  really  receiving 
it !  how  obstinately  do  our  still  proud,  self- 
righteous,  doubting  hearts  seem  to  shut 
themselves  up  against  the  reception  of  it ! 
Theoretically  we  subscribe  to  it,  and,  we 
should  say,  heartily,  joyfully  subscribe  to 
it ;  but  let  the  conscience  be  disturbed,  let 
our  souls  ache  within  us  at  the  remem- 
brance of  our  past  iniquities  or  under  a 
sense  of  our  present  vileness — then  let  .some 
one  come  and  present  this  great  truth  to 
our  minds;  then  let  us  be  told  of  our  guilt 
all  cancelled,  our  sin  all  done  away  with, 
by  the  blood  of  Christ ;  not  a  stain  of  it  left 
on  ds  for  our  tears  to  wash  away,  nor  one 
particle  of  wrath  left  in  the  divine  mind  on 
account  of  it  for  our  prayers  to  remove — 
this  is  just  what  we  want,  we  say,  but  it 
seems  the  very  last  thing  we  can  credit. 
Credit  it  however  we  must  before  as  guilty 
creatures  we  can  have  any  good  hope  within 
us,  any  real  peace  of  mind,  any  warm  love 
for  the  Saviour  who  bled  for  us,  or  any 
happy  acquaintance  with  his  salvation. 


SERMON  XXVI. 


EASTER    SUNDAY. 


THE   RESURRECTION   OF  CHRIST  GLAD 
TIUL^GS. 


Acts  xni.  li'2,  Xi,  .34. — "We  declare  unto  you 
glitd  tidings,  how  that  the  promise  xchirh  was 
made  unto  the  fathers,  God  hath  fulfilled  the 
same  unto  us  their  children,  in  that  he  hath 
raised  up  Jesus  again  ;  as  it  is  also  icrilten  in 
the  sci'ond  psalm.  Thou  art  viy  Son,  this  day 
hare  I  begotten  thee.  And  as  concerning  that 
he  raised  him  up  from  the  dead,  now  no  more  to 
return  to  corruption,  he  said  on  this  wise,  I 
will  giie  you  the  sure  mercies  of  David." 

We  can  ill  enter  in  some  degree  into 
these  words.  We  feel  that  the  tidings  of 
our  Lord's  resurrection    really   are   glad 


122 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  CHRIST  GLAD  TIDINGS. 


ticliiiijs  ;  anil  we  can  easily  conceive  too 
that  on  tile  day  wlien  lie  actually  arose, 
they  must  have  ijeen  to  his  first  disciples 
tidings  of  exceeding  joy.  Their  doubts  all 
removed,  their  fears  gone,  their  fondest 
hope  realized,  and  realized  just  as  it  was 
expiring,  their  beloved  Master  alive  again 
on  the  earth  and  soon  to  be  seen  of  them — 
we  are  ready  to  say  that  if  ever  there  was 
gladness  of  heart  felt  in  our  world,  it  was 
felt  by  these  wondering  men  at  this  time. 
But  if  we  look  at  the  words  before  us,  we 
shall  find  that  they  were  not  uttered  at  this 
joyful  season,  nor  by  any  one  of  these  first 
disciples.  They  were  spoken  by  Pari  ten 
or  twelve  years  afterwards.  And  yet  at 
the  end  of  this  long  interval,  he  proclaims 
our  Lord's  resurrection  apparently  with  as 
much  joy  as  Peter  or  John  would  hsve  pro- 
claimed it  just  after  it  had  happened.  He 
announces  it  to  his  countrymen  assembled 
round  l)im  at  Antioch,  as  though  it  were 
the  most  joyful  thing  he  could  announce  to 
them.  "  We  declare  unto  you  glad  tid- 
ings," he  says,  and  these  glad  tidings  are, 
"'  God  hath  raised  up  Jesus  again."  We 
naturally  ask  then,  what  makes  this  event 
so  joyful  a  one,  permanently  so  joyful  a 
one  ?  and  the  answer  is,  its  importance,  the 
bearing  it  has  on  our  salvation  and  happi- 
ness. 

The  view  we  now  propose  to  take  of  it, 
is  that  only  which  the  apostle  here  presents 
to  us.  It  is  clearly  the  same  view  he  had 
in  his  own  mind  when  he  proclaimed  its 
joyfulness,  and  if  we  look  -at  it  aright,  it 
will,  with  God's  blessing,  afford  us  pleasure 
and  joy. 

I.  He  describes  it  as  ilie  loork  of  God. 
Men,  he  says,  condemned  and  crucified  our 
Lord.  Men  accomplished  all  the  divine 
purposes  concerning  him  as  far  as  his  suf- 
ferings and  death  were  concerned.  "  They 
fulfilled  all  that  was  written  of  him  ;"  and 
then  "  they  took  him  down  from  the  tree, 
and  laid  him  in  a  sepulchre."  But  there 
his  humiliation  ended,  and  with  that  ended 
the  interference  of  men  with  him.  From 
this  point  his  exaltation  is  to  begin  ;  and 
here  God  comes  in  and  puts  man  "aside,  no 
longer  employing  man's  agency,  but  per- 
forming henceforth  all  his  will  concerning 
his  dear  Son  Inmsclf.  "  They  took  him 
down  from  the  tree  and  laid  him  in  a  srpul- 
(jlirc,  but  God  raised  him  from  the  dea  1." 

Before  his  dealh,  our  JiOrfl,  to  manifest 
his    dignity,    or   rather   his   divinity,    had 


asserted  on  more  than  one  occ  sion  his  pow- 
er to  raise  himself.  " Destroy  iJii.s- ten-.j. ;»«.'' 
he  said  to  the  Jews,  the  tem{)le  of  ills  :>ody, 
"  and  in  three  days  I  will  raise  it  ^ip."  "  I 
have  power  to  lay  down  my  life,'"  he  said 
to  his  disciples,  "  and  I  have  power  to  take 
it  again."  We  might  have  expected  there- 
fore that  after  he  had  laid  it  down,  he  would 
take  it  again  ;  that  by  his  own  divine  agen- 
cy he  would  reanimate  his  mortal  clay, 
and  bring  it  forth  from  the  tomb.  But  it  is 
remarkable  that  after  his  resurrection  had 
actually  taken  place,  it  is  seldom  or  never 
ascribed  to  himself.  Once,  to  declare  to  us 
the  Holy  Spirit's  power,  it  is  said  to  be  his 
work,  but  scripture,  in  almost  every  other 
instance,  refers  it  as  here  to  the  Father. 
''God  raised  him  up;"  "God  brought 
again  from  the  dead  our  Lord  Jesus  ;"  "  he 
liveth  by  the  power  of  God."  The  reason 
of  this  doubtless  is,  that  we  may  connect  his 
resurrection  with  the  Father,  that  we  may 
see  the  Father's  hand  in  it,  that  we  may 
think  as  we  commemorate  it,  not  only  of 
our  glorious  Redeemer,  our  rising  Lord, 
but  of  the  glorious  Jehovah,  the  Lord  of  all 
power  and  might,  who  raised  him.  The 
importance  of  our  doing  so,  we  shall  see  as 
we  go  on.  All  we  need  observe  now  is, 
that  presented  to  us  thus  as  God's  work,  our 
Lord's  resurrection  assumes  already  a  joy- 
ful character.  It  shows  us  that  the  eternal 
Father  took  to  the  very  last,  not  only  an 
interest,  but  a  part,  in  all  that  Christ  did  for 
our  salvation.  His  heart  was  so  much  en- 
gaged in  making  a  way  for  our  salvation, 
that  he  would  not  be  a  mere  spectator  of 
any  thing  that  was  done  to  effect  it ;  ne 
must  act  in  it,  and  he  must  let  us  know 
that  he  has  acted  in  it.  It  was  so  from  the 
first.  The  apostle  says  that  our  Lord 
"  humbled  himself,"  came  of  his  own  free 
accord  into  this  world  of  sin  and  sorrow  ; 
but  God  says,  "  I  gave  him  to  the  world ; 
I  sent  him  into  it."  Men  persecuted  and 
afHicted,  crucified  and  slew  him  ;  and  with 
this  surely,  we  might  say,  his  Father  could 
have  nothing  to  (lo  ;  l)Ut  he  says,  "  I  had 
much  to  do  with  it.  Those  wicked  hand/, 
are  only  doing  wliat  my  hand  and  m} 
counsel  determined  before  to  be  done.' 
And  now  he  is  to  he  raised  from  the  dead 
"  I  will  do  that  also,"  says  God,  "  and  da 
it  entirely.  It  shall  be  my  work,  and  that 
it  may  Ix;  seen  to  be  my  work,  none  but 
myself  shall  have  aught  to  do  with  it." 
Once    again   then,  brethren,    we   see  that 


Tfi;-:  iii;-i  nivi.tiiuN  ui"  ciikisr  glad  tidings. 


123 


there  is  a  pcrllct  liuimoiiy  and  coiiLTrt 
throughout  between  the  Fatiier  arid  tlie  Son 
in  the  work  of  our  salvation.  The  Father 
does  not  stand  by  in  displeasure,  waiting  to 
be  appeased  by  the  Son  before  he  concurs 
in  it,  he  concurs  in  it  from  the  first  ;  he 
tells  us  at  every  step  that  lie  is  a  party  con- 
cerned in  it,  and  a  willing  and  joyful  one. 

II.  Our  Lord's  resurrection  is  set  forth 
next  in  this  passage  as  the  fulfilment  of 
a  divine  promise.  It  was  not  only,  the  apos- 
tle says,  the  work  of  God,  but  a  work  lie 
had  long  ago  engaged  to  j)erform ;  "  The 
promise  which  was  made  unto  the  fathers, 
God  hath  fulfilled  the  same  unto  us  their 
children,  in  that  he  hath  raised  up  Jesus 
again."  He  then  quotes  two  or  three  pro- 
phesies containing  this  promise,  foretelling 
our  Lord's  resurrection  ;  and  seems  to  say 
that  he  rejoices  in  his  resurrection,  partly 
because  he  sees  in  it  the  divine  faithfulness, 
because  he  recognises  in  it  the  God  of  his 
fathers  remembering  his  promise  and  keep- 
ing it. 

"  The  promise  which  was  made  unto  the 
fathers" — this,  you  perceive  at  once,  was 
toucliing  a  string  that  would  find  a  ready 
response  in  the  hearts  of  the  apostle's  hear- 
ers. They  were  most  of  them  Jews,  for 
he  was  speaking  in  a  synagogue  ;  and  this 
was  connecting  the  risen  Jesus  with  their 
own  God,  Abraham's  God,  Israel's  God, 
the  God  who  had  sliown  through  so  many 
ages  so  much  favor  to  their  nation  and  peo- 
ple. It  was  telling  them  that  his  resurrec- 
tion had  been  in  Jehovah's  mind  and 
thouglits,  when  he  spake  to  their  fathers, 
and  was  one  of  the  many  mercies  he  had 
long  ago  promised  them.  It  was  God's 
work,  not  simply  as  God  over  all,  but  as 
their  God,  the  God  who  had  loved  them 
even  from  of  old  as  he  had  loved  none 
others,  and  bound  himself  to  tiiem  by  en- 
gagements and  promises.  And  joyful  in- 
deed it  is  to  the  soul,  brethren,  to  see  in 
Christ,  when  we  can  see  it,  the  peculiar 
love  of  Jehovah  towards  us.  That  he  has 
a  peculiar  people  in  the  world,  a  people 
whom  he  specially  loves  and  to  whom  he 
has  made  special  promises,  the  scripture 
plainly  tells  us.  It  tells  us  too  that  lie  had  a 
special  reference  to  tliis  people  in  all  he 
ever  did  either  with  Christ  or  by  him.  Hap- 
py and  lofty  are  our  feelings  when  we  can 
bflieve  this,  and  believe  at  the  same  time 
that  among  this  peculiar  people  we  our- 
selves have  a  place,  that  he  had  .specially 


us  in  his  mind  when  lie  laid  the  iniquity  of 
a  whole  guilty  world  on  his  Son,  specially 
us  in  his  mind  and  the  promises  he  had 
made  us,  when  he  raised  him  from  the 
dead.  "  I  have  raised  him,"  he  seems  to 
say  to  us  in  this  text,  "  because  1  told  you 
I  would  raise  him.  You  see  him  coining 
j  forth  from  his  tomb  ;  see  in  bin),  if  you 
j  will,  your  restored  Saviour,  your  triunlph- 
j  ant  Redeemer,  but  see  in  him  too  a  proof  of 
my  faithfulness;  think  alsoof  me,  your  ever- 
lasting, loving,  and  covenant-keeping  God." 

III.  We  must  now  look  at  this  event  in 
another  light — it  is  a  joyful  testimony  home 
ly  the  Father  to  our  Lord,  a  public  acknow- 
ledgment of  him. 

The  apostle,  you  observe,  takes  this  view 
of  it.  In  mentioning  two  or  three  prophe- 
cies referring  to  it,  he  brings  forward,  first, 
this  remarkable  declaration  of  Jehovah  in 
the  .second  psalm,  applying  it  to  Christ  and 
his  resurrection  ;  "  Thou  art  my  Son,  this 
day  have  I  begotten  thee."  He  thus  inti- 
mates that  his  resurrection,  while  to  the 
church  itis  the  fulfilment  of  adivine  promise, 
is  at  the  same  time  a  proof  to  all  the  world 
of  our  Lord's  Messiahship,  God's  stamp 
upon  him  declaring  his  dignity  and  great- 
ness and  his  own  delight  in  him.  And  it 
is  thus  represented  continually  in  scripture. 
Our  Lord,  you  remember,  referred  to  it 
again  and  again  as  the  great  proof  men  were 
to  have  of  his  divine  mission.  "  What  sign 
showest  thou  unto  us  ?"  said  the  cavilling 
Jews  to  him  ;  and  what  answer  docs  Christ 
make  to  them  ?  "  Look  to  the  miracles  I 
am  working  daily  in  your  streets,  or  to 
those  I  am  about  to  work  ?  my  healing  the 
sick,  my  restoring  of  sight  to  the  blind,  my 
raising  the  dead  ?"  No;  "  I  myself  shall 
one  day  be  dead,"  he  says,  "and  this  shall 
be  the  sign  you  shall  have — I  will  rise 
again.  Destroy  this  temple,  and  in  three 
days  I  will  raise  it  up."  "  Master,  we 
would  see  a  sign  from  tiiee,"  say  the  same 
men  to  iiim  on  another  occasion.  "  There 
shall  no  sign  be  given  to  this  generation," 
he  answers,  "  but  the  sign  of  the  prophet 
Jonas."  Again,  in  this  figurative  manner, 
he  makes  nothing  of  his  wonderful  birtli  and 
miracles  as  evidences  of  his  Messiahsliip ; 
he  stakes  every  thing  on  his  answering  to 
the  type  Jonah  had  afiorded  of  him,  on  his 
lying  three  days  and  three  nights  in  the 
iieart  of  the  earth,  the  grave,  and  coming 
out  of  it  again.  And  after  his  resurrection, 
he  seems  an.xious  to  establish  the  reality 


124 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  CHRIST  GLAD  TIDINGS. 


and  truth  of  it  in  the  mind  of  his  disciples. 
For  forty  days  he  remains  on  the  earth, 
keeps  from  his  heavenly  glory,  for  no  other 
purpose  that  we  are  aware  of  than  this  ; 
and  during  these  days  he  appears  repeat- 
3dly  to  his  di.sciples,  talks  with  them,  eats 
and  drinks  with  them,  allows  his  sacred 
X)uy  to  be  touched  by  them,  giving  them, 
IS  the  scripture  says,  "  many  infallible 
woofs"  that  he  was  indeed  alive.  And 
heir  own  minds  appear  to  have  taken  the 
1  .npress  of  this.  We  find  them  constantly 
resting  all  they  say  concerning  him  on 
the  fact  of  his  resurrection,  appealing  to  it 
at  every  turn.  St.  Peter  presses  the" .Tews 
with  it  on  the  day  of  Pentecost.  St.  Paul 
brings  it  forward  here  to  his  countrymen 
at  Antioch.  In  the  beginning  of  his  epistle 
to  the  Romans,  he  says  that  Christ  was 
"  declared  by  it  to  be  the  Son  of  God  with 
power  ;"  and  in  his  first  epistle  to  the  Co- 
rinthians, he  lays  it  down  as  the  founda- 
tion on  which  the  whole  edifice  of  Christian 
faith,  and  Christian  hope  and  blessedness 
rests.  "  If  Christ  be  not  raised,"  he  says 
to  his  fellow-believers,  "your  faith  is  vain, 
ye  are  yet  in  your  sins.  And  your  Chris- 
tian brethren  who  are  dead,  have  been  mis- 
erably deluded  ;  they  have  perished.  And 
we  are  deluded,  who  are  still  suffering  so 
much  for  Christ's  sake."  "  But  now,"  he 
adds,  "  is  Christ  risen  from  the  dead  ;  and 
our  faith,  our  hope,  our  suffering,  our  labor, 
are  not  in  vain."  It  is  indeed  impossible  to 
read  the  New  Testament  carefully  without 
perceiving  that  the  apostles,  the  first  preach- 
ers of  Christ's  gospel,  were  willing,  like 
their  Master,  to  rest  every  thing  on  the  fact 
of  his  resurrection,  and  that  in  their  own 
breasts  every  thing  did  rest  on  it.  They 
were  perfectly  satisfied  that  the  event  had 
happened,  and  having  happened,  they  felt 
it  was  an  event  which  established  beyond 
all  controversy  their  Lord's  Messiahship, 
and,  with  that,  the  truth  of  every  declara- 
tion of  his  lips  and  every  word  of  his  gospel. 
Therefore  they  proclaimed  it  as  glad  tidings. 
They  felt  that  it  was  a  weapon  with  which 
they  could  fight  most  triumphantly  their  Mas- 
ter's battles,  and  they  felt  too  that  it  was  a 
source  of  strengtii  and  joy  to  their  own  hearts. 
But  still  this  interpretation  does  not  come 
up  to  the  full  force  of  this  passage.  It  is 
its  meaning,  but  surely  not  all  its  meaning. 
"  Thou  art  my  Son,"  says  God  ;  and  then 
he  adds,  "this  day  have  I  begotten  thee." 
The  Lord  seems  to  speak  here  as  though 


Christ  had  now  become,  for  the  first  .ime, 
his  Son  ;  had  either  had  no  existence  be- 
fore, or  no  existence  in  this  character.  And 
this  serves  to  show  us  the  infinite  delight 
God  took  in  him  now  his  work  was  done, 
the  joy  with  which  he  raised  him,  the  pleas- 
ure  and  exultation  with  which  he  acknow 
ledged  him.  "  Thou  art  to  me,  when  thou 
comest  out  of  that  grave,  as  a  new-born 
Son.  I  lock  on  thee  as  a  father  lookg,  in 
the  day  of  itr;  birth,  on  his  first-born." 
"  Unto  us  a  chiid  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is 
given,"  the  church  is  represented  as  de- 
claring in  joy  and  triumph  at  the  Saviour's 
birth  ;  and  now  when  the  Father  raises 
him  from  the  dead,  "  My  joy,"  he  tells  us, 
"  is  like  that."  "  This  is  my  Son  ;  this, 
the  Jesus  whom  you  despised  and  rejected, 
whom  you  so  lately  spat  on,  and  mocked, 
and  scourged,  and  crucified  ;  he  whom  you 
laid  in  the  tomb  and  thought  you  had  con- 
signed there  to  oblivion,  to  rottenness  and 
dust ;  this  is  my  Son,  my  beloved  Son,  and 
more  beloved  by  me  to-day  than  ever. 
From  this  day  shall  begin  to  him  a  new, 
endless  day  of  glory  and  joy.  His  resur- 
rection is  to  my  church  as  life  from  the 
dead  ;  it  shall  be  to  him  as  the  beginning 
of  a  new  existence,  the  commencement  of  a 
life  that  shall  never  end." 

IV.  This  scripture  places  this  great  event 
before  us  in  yet  a  fourth  light — U  is  a  pledge 
to  us  of  mamj  hlessings.  It  is  not  only  in 
hself  a  blessing,  and,  therefore,  a  ground 
of  joy,  but  an  assurance  to  us  of  other  bless- 
ings yet  to  come,  and,  therefore,  joyful. 
We  gather  this  from  the  next  prediction  the 
apostle  quotes ;  "  I  will  give  you  the  sure 
mercies  of  David."  These  words  are  found 
in  the  fifty-fifth  chapter  of  Isaiah,  and 
though  they  are  evidently  connected  there 
with  a  description  of  gospel  blessings,  it 
would  scarcely  have  occurred  to  us  to  refer 
them  to  our  JiOrd's  resurrection;  yet  here 
they  are  referred  to  it  by  an  inspired  apostle, 
and  it  is  easy  to  see  how  they  apply  to  it. 

"  Tiio  sure  mercies  of  David"  are  the 
mercies  promised  to  David,  the  mercies  to 
which  he  looked  forward,  and  of  which 
in  his  writings  he  often  speaks — the  day  of 
Christ,  the  establishment  on  his  throne  of 
David's  seed,  the  wide  spread  of  his  king- 
dom, and  the  full  blessings  of  salvation 
which  his  people  should  enjoy.  They  are 
called  the  "  sure"  mercies  of  David,  partly 
because  they  were  secured  to  David  by 
very   strong  and  numerous  promises,  and 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  CHRIST  GLAD  TIDINGS. 


125 


You  see  tlien, 
,-olvfd  in  the  e^ 


brcthien,  how  much  is  in- 
int  we  are  this  dav  com. 


partly  because  David  contemplated  them 

a-s  .=ure,  felt  certain  they  would  be  <,nven. 

Almost  in  his  dying  moments,  he  spake  of  |  memorating;  not  simply  Christ's  own  exal 

the  covenant  w'hich  foretold  him  of  them,    *'■—  "■■  ' 


as  '•  an  everlasting  covenant,  ordered  in  [ 
all  things  and  sure!"  Now,  says  the  apos-  j 
tie,  all  this  points  to  the  Lord's  resurrec- 
tion. It  must  do  so,  for  without  his  resur- 
rection, none  of  these  great  things  can  come 
to  pass.  He  cannot  sit  on  his  throne,  un- 
less he  is  raised  from  the  grave  ;  he  cannot 
orive  us  these  promised  blessings,  unless  he 
fs  alive  to  give  them.  Here  then  our  fa- 
thers had  for  ages  a  promise  of  his  resurrec- 
tion, and  now  his  resurrection  has  taken 
place,  we,  their  children,  have  in  it  an 
assurance  of  every  blessing  promised.  He 
is  raised  to  give  them,  and  give  them  he 
will.  We  feel  now,  as  we  think  of  his 
empty  sepulchre,  or  rather  as  we  think  of 


him  living  and  reigning  on  his  ihrcne,  that 
they  are  indeed  the  "  sure  mercies  of 
David  ;"  we  shall  assuredly  have  them. 

Look  back  to  the  history  we  have  read 
this    morning,    brethren, — the  deliverance 
of  the  Isracliies  from  Egypi.     It  was  not 
only  in  itself  a  great  deliverance,  and  on 
that  account  filling  their  hearts  with  joy, 
it  was  a  step  towards  many  other  joyful 
things.     The  Lord  had  not  brought  them 
out  of  that  wretched  land  to  keep  them  in 
the   wilderness.     He  had  done  it  that  he 
miffht  perform  the  promise  given  to  their 
fathers,  that  he  might  carry  them  through 
the  wilderness,  and  plant  them  in  Canaan. 
Their  miraculous  deliverance   they  must 
have  regarded  as  a  pledge  of  the  speedy 
accomplishment  of  all  their  long-promised 
and  long-looked  for  mercies.     So  with  us. 
The  resurrection  of  Christ  assures  us  that 
all  the  promises  of  God   connected  with 
Christ  will  be  fulfilled.     It  is  more  than  a 
step  towards  their  fulfilment,  it  is  one  grand 
means  of  fulfilling  them.     This  Saviour  is 
raised,  not  so  much  that  he  may  receive 
honor  and  glory,  sit  in  happiness  on   his 
throne  beholding  his  people  saved  and  his 
kingdom  spread  ;  he  is  raised  that  he  may 
hinrself  save   his    people   and   spread   his 
kingdom.     "  He  shall  see  his  seed,  he  shall 
proTong  his  days,"  says  the  prophet,  but 
what  does  he  add  ?  "  the  pleasure  of  the 
Lord,"  his  pleasure  in  saving  and  gather- 
ing together  his  elect,  "shall  prosper  in 
his  ha..d."     He  himself  is  to  accomplish 
the  numbei  c'  God's  elect,  and  to  hasten 
his  kingdom. 


ation  and  glory,  but  our  salvation,  the  sal- 
vation  of  his  whole  church.       His  death 
left   that  salvation   incomplete.     It   was  a 
perfect  sacrifice  ibr  us.     jSuthing  more  ia 
vanted  en  his  part  nor  on  our  part  to  expi- 
ate our  transgressions.     Tlie  strongest  lan- 
o-uage  I  could   emjiloy  would  scarcely  be 
strong  enough  to  tell  you  how  completely 
his  precious  blood  has  atoned  for  tliem  all. 
It  "  cleanseth  from  all  sin."     So  powerful 
is  it,  that  it  washes  away  the  foulest,  deep- 
est stains  ;  so  extensive,  so  wide  in  its  in- 
fluence, that  it  does  not  leave  the  slightest 
stain  on  any  one  believing  sinner.      But 
what  are  we,  brethren  ?      Creatures  who 
scarcely  care  whether  we  are  cleansed  or 
not.     Talk  of  rescued  Israel  on  the  shore 
of  the  Red  Sea,  with  a  wide  wilderness  to 
go  over  before  they  can  get  to  Canaan — 
their  situation  is  nothing  compared  to  ours, 
even  though  Christ  has  died  for  us.     We 
have  a  far  wider  and  more  difficult  wilder- 
ness to  be  carried  through  before  we  can 
get  to  heaven.     The  way  may  be  open, 
but  who  is  to  lead  us  into  it  ?  who  is  to 
guide  us  along  it  ?  who  is  to  protect,  feed, 
strengthen  us  as  we  go  along  ?     Above  all, 
who  is  to  make  us  meet  for  heaven,  and 
give  us  a  heart  to  enjoy  it  when  we  get 
there?     The  risen  Jesus  himself  is  to  do 
all  this  for  us,  and  more  than  this.     He  is 
to  do  it  by  his  Spirit,  .sending  him  down, 
and  dwelling  by  him  in  our  .souls.    Through 
that  Spirit  he  gives  us  faith,  works  in  us 
the  very  first  act  of  our  minds  which  leads 
us  to   him ;    and   by  the   same    Spirit    he 
teaches,  guides,  sanctifies,  and  upholds  us, 
brings  us  nearer  and  nearer  to  him,  till  at 
last  the  wilderness  is  passed  and  we  are 
with  him  in  his  kingdom. 

And  here,  brethren,  I  must  stop.  My 
object  has  been  two-fold — first,  to  let  you  see 
that  our  Lord's  resurrection  is  not  a  mere 
fact  to  be  believed,  but  something  deeply 
important  to  us,  having  a  bearing  on  us ; 
and  then  that  its  influence  on  us  is  or  may 
be  a  very  happy  and  joyful  one.  That  it 
is  important  to  us,  all  .scripture  proves.  The 
apostle  seems  to  speak  of  it  here  as  con- 
taining within  it  the  sum  and  substance  of 
the  gospel.  In  his  epistle  to  the  Philip- 
pians,  he  places  it  side  by  side  with  our 
Lord's  sufferings  and  death.  He  longs, 
ho  says,  to  be  "  made  conformable  to  hi* 


126 


THE  RISEN  JESL'S  APPEARING  TO  MARY  MAGDALENE. 


death,"  but  he  longs  just  as  much  to  "know 
the  power  of  his  resurrection,'"  to  feel  its 
power  within  his  own  heart.  And  it  is  a 
striking  fact  too,  that  except  our  Lord's 
death,  it  is  the  only  event  connected  with 
him,  of  which  we  have  in  the  church  any 
constant  and  universal  memorial.  There 
is  his  supper,  ordained  by  himself  to  "  show 
forth  his  death  till  he  come;"  there  is  his 
own  day,  the  Christian  sabbath,  kept  by  his 
grateful  church  in  all  ages  of  it  everywhere 
to  commemorate  his  resurrection.  Learn 
to  make  use  th?.u,  brethren,  both  of  his 
death  and  his  resurrection  ;  of  his  death, 
that  you  may  be,  in  your  principles,  mo- 
tives, and  spirit,  cnnibriiied  to  it ;  of  his 
resurrection,  that  you  may  experience  its 
confirming,  animating,  elevating,  purifying, 
transforming  power.  O  fbr  a  practical 
religion  !  a  religion  that  brings  every  thing 
to  bear  on  ourselves  ;  that  makes  nothing 
of  its  own  feelings  and  doings,  but  is  ever 
feeling  and  ever  doing ;  that  cannot  look 
even  on  its  dying  Saviour  or  its  rising  Lord 
with  a  mere  barren  admiration,  but  is  con- 
strained to  say,  as  it  looks  on  him,  "  What 
is  his  precious  death  to  me  ?  and  what  his 
glorious,  joyful  resurrection  ?"  He  only 
can  give  our  religion  this  character,  and 
till  by  his  Spirit  he  does  give  it  this  char- 
acter, it  is  nothing  worth.  It  may  com- 
memorate, as  the  year  goes  round,  his  birth 
and  death,  his  rising  again  and  his  ascen- 
sion, but  till  it  establishes  a  connection  be- 
tween us  and  these  events,  giving  us  by  a 
living  faith  an  interest  in  them,  and  then, 
through  the  same  faith,  giving  them  an 
abiding  influence  on  us,  on  our  hearts  and 
lives,  no  matter  what  name  it  bears  or  what 
form  it  bears,  it  is  not  true  religion.  It 
may  be  decorous  and  it  may  be  devout,  but 
it  is  without  power,  "  the  power  of  godli- 
ness," and  without  that,  it  is  without  the 
grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  without 
salvation. 


SERMON  XXVII. 

THE  FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 

THE  RISEN   JESUS  APPEARING  TO  MARY 
MAGDALENE. 

St.  John  xx.  \G.—"  Jesus  saith  vnto  her,  Mary. 
She  turned  herself  and  saith  unto  him,  Rahboni." 

The  circumstances  attending  our  Lord's 
resurrection,  are  most  of  them  deeply  in- 


teresting. The  great  event  itself  oftec 
prevents  our  minds  from  resting  on  them, 
but  no  sooner  do  we  attentively  examine 
them,  than  we  are  struck  with  their  natu- 
ral, beautiful,  and  affecting  character.  The 
evangelists  themselves  seem  to  have  con- 
templated them  with  peculiar  pleasure,  for 
they  have  recorded  them  with  unusual  mi- 
nuteness. Among  them,  that  related  in 
the  text  is  not  the  least  interesting.  It  is 
the  discovery  the  risen  Jesus  made  of  him- 
self at  his  sepulchre  to  l\Iary  IMagdalene. 
And  this  is  rendered  more  remarkable  by 
the  fact,  that  it  was  the  first  discovery 
he  made  of  himself  after  his  resurrection. 
So  St.  Mark  tells  us ;  "  Now  Avhen  Jesus 
was  riser,  early  the  first  day  of  the  week, 
he  appeared  first  to  Mary  Magdalene." 

That  this  incident  n^ay,  through  the  di- 
vine  blessing,  be  made  instructive  to  us, 
let  us  consider,  first,  the  conduct  of  this 
woman  at  the  time  when  our  Lord  thus 
honored  her,  and  then  the  probable  reasons 
which  induced  him  thus  to  honor  her. 

I.  The  first  thing  we  notice  in  Mary^s 
conduct  at  this  time,  is  ihe  peculiar  Jove  she 
manifests  in  it  for  her  Lord.  I  say  "  p*;. 
culiar,"  for  though  it  may  not  distinguish 
her  at  first  from  the  other  women  who,  as 
St.  Mark  informs  us,  accompanied  her  at 
this  time  to  the  sepulchre,  yet  it  does  dis- 
tinguish her,  and  most  honorably  distin- 
guish her,  from  all  the  other  disciples. 
They  doubtless  loved  their  Master,  but 
now  their  Master  is  in  the  grave,  where 
are  they  ?  Not  at  his  grave.  They  are 
concealed  somewhere  in  Jerusalem,  sitting 
together  perhaps  in  some  private  chamber, 
talking  and  speculating  together  over  his 
fate.  But  this  woman  seeks  no  conceal, 
ment,  she  has  no  heart  for  speculation 
While  Peter,  and  James,  and  John,  are 
saying,  "  Our  Lord,  crucified,  dead,  and 
buried  !  what  meaneth  this  ?  We  trusted 
and  we  hoped  ;"  Mary  Magdalene  is  on  her 
way  to  his  tomb  for  the  purpose  of  honor- 
ing him. 

And  mark  the  time  when  she  set  out  for 
his  tomb.  All  the  evangelists  mention  this. 
It  was  "  early,"  says  John,  "  early,  when 
it  was  yet  dark."  "  Very  early,"  says 
Luke.  "  Very  early  in  the  morning,  at 
the  rising  of  the  sun,"  says  Mark.  "  As 
it  began  to  dawn,"  says  Matthew.  For  a 
reaso--'  wo  phall  presently  see,  ^-iie  could 
not  go  reforc,  but  the  instar  ♦  she  is  at  lib- 
erty, she  goes. 


THE  RISEN  JESUS  APPEARING  TO  :SIARY  MAGDALENE. 


127 


And  yet  her  errand  required  not  sucli 
haste.  An  hour  or  two  later  would  have 
answered  the  purpose  she  had  in  view, 
quite  as  well.  She  came,  St.  Mark  says, 
that  she  might  "  anoint,"  that  is,  embalm 


law,  thus  rnarkin 
proliation. 


both  with  the  same  ap- 


And  this  again  was  not  a  needful  ser- 
vice. St.  John  tells  us  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  that  he  had  been  embalmed  be- 
fore. But  it  had  been  done  by  other  hands, 
and  it  had  been  done  in  haste,  and  -Mary's 
love  is  not  satisfied  ;  it  must  be  done  again 
with  more  pains  and  cost,  and  she  must 
do  it  herself.  Together  with  the  other 
women,  she  "  bought  sweet  spices  that  they 
might  come  and  anoint  him." 

Tiiis  is  real  love  for  Christ,  brethren. 
This  is  loving  him  as  he  requires  to  be 
loved,  with  the  heart,  and  all  the  heart, 
and  soul,  and  strength  ;  and,  in  some  poor 
measure,  as  he  deserves  to  be  loved.  It  is 
meeting  him  with  a  love  something  like  his 
jwn  wonderful  love  for  us,  tender,  and  self- 
denying,  and  never  satisfied  till  it  has  done 
all  thar  it  can.  O  how  few  of  us  know 
anv  thing  of  such  a  love  !  Lord,  graft  it 
in  our  hearts.  Kindle  in  every  soul  among 
us  a  love  like  this,  a  real  love,  for  thy 
holy  name. 

Notice  further  in  Mary's  conduct  her 
great  reverence  for  ihe  divine  commands. 

We  have  seen  her  almost  impatient  to 
be  at  her  Lord's  sepulchre.  We  are  sure 
from  the  haste  she  manifested  to  be  there, 
that  she  would  have  been  there  before,  had 
not  soiTie  insurmountable  obstacle  kept  her 
back.  And  what  was  this  obstacle?  No- 
thing more,  brethren,  than  the  command 
voulind  I  have  heard  to-day,  "  Remember 
the  sabbath-day  to  keep  it  holy."  Our 
Lonl,  you  are  aware,  was  crucified  on  the 
day  before  the  Jewish  sabbath,  and  was 
buried  in  haste  on  the  evening  of  that  day. 
"  Strong  affection, "  you  would  have  said, 
had  you  seen  Mary  and  the  other  women 
going  away  on  the  Friday  night  from  his 
sepulchre,  "  their  strong  alTcction  for  their 
buried  Lord  will  bring  these  women  l.ack 
a"-ain  here  to-morrow."  But  no.  "  They 
rested  the  sal>bath.day,"  St.  Luke  tells  us, 
"according  to  the  commandment.'  And 
it  was  not  Jewish  superstition  or  pharisa.' 


See  here  then  that  a  sinner's  love  for  his 
Saviour,  while  it  is  a  feeling  and  a  strong 
one,  the  very  strongest  perhaps  tliat  is 
found  in  the  universe  out  of  Jehovah's  heart, 
is  yet  a  governed  feeling,  a  feeling  that 
moves  in  an  humble  and  holy  subji-ction 
to  (^d's  law.  It  constrains  the  soul,  it 
bears  along  the  man  who  possesses  it,  but 
whither  ?  To  duty,  and  difUculty,  and, 
it  may  be,  to  sulfering,  but  never  to  any 
point 'or  along  any  path  which  the  Lord 
has  forbidden".'  Look  at  some  proff'ssing 
Christians — they  will  break  the  sal)balh  at 
any  time,  and  lead  others  to  break  it,  and 
think  all  well,  as  long  as  they  have  what 
they  call  a  good  object  in  view.  How 
unl'ike  their  conduct  to  Mary's  !  And  look 
at  some  young  professors  of  religion — they 
will  Hy  in  the  face  of  friends  and  parents, 
they  will  violate,  and  rudely  violate,  not 
only  the  decencies  of  social  life,  but  many 
a  precept  of  the  gospel,  and  wherefore  ? 
The  love  of  Christ,  they  say,  impels  them. 
But  they  know  not  what  they  say.  The 
love  of  Christ  moves  in  harmony  with  the 
law  of  Christ.  It  is  the  holiest  feeling  in 
the  world,  while  it  is  the  strongest.  "  If 
ye  love  me,"  says  our  Lord,  "  keep  my 
commandments,"  and  love  in  all  its  doings 


remembers  his  words  ;  it  does  keep  his 
commandments.  "  They  came  early  when 
it  was  vet  dark  unto  the  sepulchre  '—there 
is  Christian  love,  and  you  admire  it,  breth- 
ren  ;  but  "  they  rested  the  sabbath-day  ac- 
cording to  the  commandment" — we  may 
well  doubt  whether  that  rest  is  not  as  much 
to  be  admired,  nay,  whether  it  does  not 
show  their  love  as  much. 

We  see  also  in  this  woman  an  intense 
and  persevering  desire  to  find  her  crucified 
Lord. 

Nothing  checked  her  in  her  search  for 
him,  nothing  quieted  her  till  she  had  found 
him. 

Turn  to  St.  Mark's  gospel.  There  was 
a  stone,  it  appears,  at  the  entrance  of  the 
sepulchre,  "a  great  stone,"  we  are  told 
elsewhere,  and  one  that  must  be  removed 
before  Marv  and  her  companions  can  en- 
t:;r,  but  this'did  not  deter  them  ;  they  seem 


strictness, 


;    ch     "      1          o  .io'  ihuTa   .-  l.avo  Won  on.l.eirway  before  .hey  even 
w  1111.11   1'^    •-  ^,    1  ._      .1 u,  „<■ ;»        Anr   nnw  p.omn  apam  to  bt. 


must  have  been  something  which  God  ap- 
proved, for  at  the  very  time  that  he  records 
their  love  for  his  Son,  he  puts  on  the  same 
'ecord  'his  reverence  of  theirs  for  his  holy 


thought  of  it.  And  now  come  agam 
John's  gospel.  Leaving  unnoticed  the 
other  women,  he  confines  his  narrative  to 
^5'iry  oidy.     lie  represents  her  as  findinp 


128 


THE  RISEN  JESUS  APPEARING  TO  MARY  MAGDALENE 


the  sepulchre  empty.  The  stone  was  ta- 
ken away  from  it,  and  the  Lord  Jesus  was 
gone.  Agitated  and  perplexed,  she  imme- 
diately runs  off  with  the  tidings  to  Peter 
and  John.  "  They  have  taken  away  the 
Lord,"  she  cries,  "  out  of  the  sepulchre, 
and  we  know  not  where  they  have  laid 
him."'  Entering  at  once  into  her  anxiety 
these  two  hasten  with  her  to  the  tomh,  but 
for  what  purpose  ?  Evidently  for  this  one 
purpose,  to  satisfy  themselves  that  her  ac- 
count was  true,  that  their  Master  had  really 
disappeared.  This  done,  they  are  content. 
"  Then  the  disciples  went  away  again  unto 
their  own  home."  And  now  where  is 
Mary  ?  Gone  away  also  ?  No  ;  she  is 
at  the  sepulchre  still.  She  was  there  be- 
fore the  disciples  came,  she  returns  there 
with  the  disciples,  and  there  she  remains 
after  they  are  gone  ;_  she  "stood  without 
at  the  sepulchre  weeping."  She  wants 
Christ,  and  there  where  Christ  was  buried, 
she  stays.  "  And  as  she  wept,"  the  nar- 
rative says,  "  she  stooped  down  and  looked 
into  the  sepulchre."  How  natural  was 
this!  Peter  and  John  had  looked  there 
before,  nay,  they  had  been  into  the  sepul- 
chre and  doubtless  told  her  it  was  empty  ; 
but  it  matters  not,  she  will  trust  neither  of 
them,  nor  will  she  trust  herself.  Just  as 
when  we  are  searching  anxiously  for  any 
thing,  we  seek  it  again  and  again  where 
perhaps  we  have  already  searched  for  it 
in  vain,  so  she  looks  again  and  again  into 
this  tomb,  that  she  may  discover  there  her 
beloved  Lord* 

And  now  begins  to  appear  the  tender- 
ness of  that  Lord  towards  her.  Never  does 
he  suffer  one  of  his  weeping  people  to  seek 
him  unnoticed.  He  first  calls  down  angels 
from  heaven  to  comfort  this  weeping  Mary. 
"  She  secth  two  angels  in  white  shting,  the 
one  at  the  head  and  the  other  at  the  feet, 
where  the  body  of  Jesus  had  lain."  But 
what  are  angels  to  her  ?  So  absorbed  is 
she  in  one  pursuit,  so  completely  filled  is 
her  mind  with  one  object,  that  she  looks  un- 
moved on  this  heavenly  vision.  The  sud- 
denness, the  strangeness,  the  splendor,  of  it 
disturb  her  not.  They  say  unto  her,  "  Wo- 
man, why  woepcst  thou  ?"  She  answers 
.hem  with  as  much  indifTercncc  towards 
them,  as  though  she  were  speaking  again 
to  Peter  and  John,  and  in  just  the  same 
words.  "  They  have  taken  away  my  Lord," 
she  cries,  "  and  I  know  not  where  they 
have  laid  him." 


What  an  intenseness  of  desire  is  nere 
And  yet  this  is  nothing  more,  or  little  more, 
than  that  man  feels,  who,  like  this  woman 
of  Galilee,  is  really  seeking  for  himself  Je- 
sus that  was  crucified.  It  serves  well  to 
picture  the  feelings  and  conduct  of  such  a 
man.  Look  at  Mary.  Her  desire  for 
Christ  was  such  as  was  not  to  be  satisfied 
with  meaner  things.  The  company  of  the 
holy  women  who  went  with  her  to  the  sep 
ulchre,  would  not  satisfy  her  ;  the  company 
of  the  disciples,  even  of  those  disciples  who 
had  been  the  intimate  friends  of  her  Lord, 
would  not  satisfy  her  ;  no,  nor  the  compa- 
ny of  angels.  And  just  so  is  it  with  the 
soul  when,  smitten  with  a  sense  of  its  guilt, 
it  is  once  brought  to  feel  its  need  of  a  Sa- 
viour, or  when,  filled  with  love  for  him,  it 
is  thirsting  for  the  discoveries  of  his  pres- 
ence. There  is  an  intense  longing  within 
such  a  soul  for  him.  It  feels  at  times  as 
thougn  it  could  almost  fly  from  itself  to 
reach  him.  And  nothing  but  Christ  can 
satisfy  or  quiet  this  longing.  Friends  and 
companions,  though  the  excellent  of  the 
earth,  will  not  do  ;  duties  and  ordinances 
will  not  do ;  angels  would  not  do ;  nor 
would  heaven  itself  do,  if  Christ  were  not 
thei'e.  "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but 
thee  ?" — a  man  really  seeking  the  Lord 
understands  that  language  :  "  and  there  is 
none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside  tiiee" 
— he  understands  that  also.  "  All  the 
world,"  he  says,  "  cannot  make  me  happy 
without  my  Lord.  I  am  a  guilty  sinner, 
and  I  can  know  no  rest  till  he  has  washed 
and  cleansed  me.  I  am  comfortless,  and  I 
shall  be  comfortless,  till  he  draws  near  to 
comfort  me.  His  favor,  his  presence,  is  the 
life  and  joy  of  my  heart ;  while  he  is  ab- 
sent from  me,  I  must  be  desolate."  If  this, 
brethren,  sounds  to  you  overstrained  and 
extravagant,  you  must  deem  the  conduct 
of  this  Mary  extravagant ;  you  must  look 
on  many  passages  in  holy  scripture,  espe- 
cially in  the  Psalms,  as  extravagant ;  you 
must  come  in  truth  to  this  conclusion,  that 
there  is  something  in  Christ's  religion, 
which  you  have  never  yet  experienced  or 
understood ;  that  it  can  exercise  an  influ- 
ence and  power  over  the  human  mind, 
which  you  liave  never  felt.  And  what  a 
blessed  conclusion,  if  it  excites  in  you  a  de- 
sire to  understand  this!  if  it  leads  you  to 
pray  that  you  may  feel  and  experience  it ! 
if  it  sends  you  home  to-day  witli  tins  prayer 
in  your  heart,  "  Lord,  take  me  under  thy 


THE  RISEN  JESUS  APPEARING  TO  MARY  MAGDALENE. 


129 


teaching.  Show  me  the  real  nature  of  thy 
religion.  Let  me  not  deceive  myself.  Be 
the  power  of  thy  grace  what  it  may,  O  let 
mi^  feel  its  power  in  my  inmost  soul  !" 

H.  Lot  us  go  on  now  to  our  second  point, 
iht  reasons  ivhich  induced  our  Lord  to  appear 
Jirsl  to  this  iL'oman. 

Tiiey  wore  T)orhaps  two. 

1 .  He  did  it  io  display  to  his  church  the 
sovereignty  and  abounding  riches  of  his 
grace. 

We  know  hut  little  of  her  character. 
Indeed  .scripture  tells  us  nothing  more  of 
her,  than  that  our  Lord  had  cast  out  of  her 
seven  devils.  There  is  however  a  tradi- 
tion that  she  was  the  same  woman  who, 
Mith  so  much  beautiful  feeling,  washed  and 
anointed  our  Lord's  feet  in  the  house  of 
Simon,  the  Pharisee.  If  this  bo  true,  and 
the  conduct  and  feeling  manifested  on  that 
occasion  are  so  much  like  what  we  find 
here  that  it  probably  is  true,  she  had  been 
a  notorious  sinner.  But  even  supposing 
this  tradition  to  be  false,  she  was  by  no 
means  the  person  to  whom  we  should  have 
expected  our  Lord's  first  appearance  to  be 
made.  He  will  go,  we  should  have  said, 
from  his  sepulchre  to  the  streets  of  Jerusa- 
lem, and  show  himself  there  in  triumph  to 
the  people  who  crucified  him  ;  or  he  will 
go  with  eager  haste  to  his  beloved  disciples, 
and  gladden  their  sorrowful  hearts.  But 
liis  gospel  was  intended  to  be  from  first  to 
last  a  dispensation  of  free,  sovereign  mer- 
cy, and  he  keeps  this  design  of  it  ever  in 
his  view.  On  many  occasions  in  his  life, 
he  makes  his  conduct  correspond  with  this 
character  of  his  gospel.  One  of  his  last 
acts  before  he  died,  was  to  convert  and 
save  a  guilty  malefactor,  and  now  his  very 
first  act  after  his  i-esurrection,  is  to  comfort 
and  honor  this  humble  Mary.  He  appears 
first  to  her  to  let  us  see  that  his  grace  is 
sovereign — he  will  manifest  it  to  whom  he 
pleases  ;  and  that  it  is  free — he  often  man- 
ifests it  the  most  abundantly,  where  we  the 
least  look  for  it. 

And  the  same  principle  regulated  his 
conduct  at  this  time  towards  his  disciples. 
He  singles  out  one  above  all  the  others  to 
receive  from  the  women  the  tidings  of  his 
resurrection,  and  who  is  he  ?  The  very 
last  we  should  have  thought  worthy  of  such 
an  honor — Peter,  the  fallen  Peter.  "  Go 
your  way,"  said  the  angels,  "  tell  his  dis- 
ciples and  Peter,"  Peter  especially,  Peter 
before  and  above  all  the  rest,  "  that  he  is 
17 


risen  from  the  dead."  And  this  docs  not 
satisfy  him.  To  which  of  all  these  i/ien 
does  he  first  appear  ?  To  Peter  still. 
"  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed,"  we  read  in 
St.  Luke,  "  and  hath  appeared  to  Simon." 
And  St.  Paul  mentions  the  same  circum- 
stance  ;  "  He  was  soon  of  Cephas,"  another 
name  of  Peter,  "then  of  the  twelve." 

The  Lord  Jesus,  brethren,  delights  in 
thus  displaying  his  sovereignty,  not  so  much 
that  we  mav  admire  his  sovereignty,  as 
that  we  may  discover  in  it  the  froeness  and 
abundance  of  his  grace,  and  be  led  by  it  to 
seek  his  grace  for  our  own  guilty  souls. 
He  is  tied  by  no  laws  in  dispensing  his 
mercy,  but  his  own  sovereign  will,  the  will 
of  his  own  large,  merciful  heart.  O  what 
an  encouragement  to  me  to  go  and  cast 
myself  on  Ins  mercy  !  I\Iy  sins  are  enor- 
mous  ;  they  affright  me  as  1  think  of  them  ; 
but  here  is  this  Saviour  singling  out  trans- 
gressors well  nigh  as  great  as  I  am,  and 
singling  them  out,  not  for  mercy  only,  but 
for  special  favor  and  honor.  O  blessed 
Jesus,  look  thou  on  me  !  Show  me  thy 
mercy,  thy  free,  rich,  wonderful  mercy  ; 
and  grant  me,  as  thou  hast  granted  to  oth- 
ers like  me,  thy  great  salvation. 

But  we  must  take  another  view  of  this 
matter. 

2.  Our  Lord  doubtless  appeared  first  to 
Marv,  that  he  might  put  honor  on  her  earnest 
seeking  of  him,  and  on  her  singular  obedience 
and  love. 

We  speak  of  his  sovereignty,  and  we 
ought  to  speak  of  it,  but  the  Lord  Jesus  sel- 
dom manifests  his  sovereignty  alone.  As 
we  look  more  closely  into  what  he  docs,  we 
can  generally  discover  in  his  doings  some- 
thing beyond  it.  He  shows  great  favor  to 
great  sinners,  but  he  commonly  shows  along 
with  it  his  wisdom  and  faithfulness.  Wj 
may  say  that  it  was  the  poor,  humble  Mar/, 
the  once  sinful,  notorious  Mary,  to  whom 
he  first  showed  himself  alive  after  his  res- 
urrection, and  it  was  so  ;  but  we  may  come 
again  to  this  history,  and  say  with  equal 
truth,  that  it  was  the  loving,  atfoctionate 
Mary,  or  the  conscientious,  the  seeking, 
earnest  Mary,  whom  he  thus  honored. 
The  .same  in  Peter's  case.  Would  we 
magnify  the  grace  of  Christ  ?  Then  we 
may  say,  it  was  the  sinful,  the  cowardly, 
denying  Peter,  to  whom  he  sent  an  especial 
message  by  his  angel  ;  but  would  we  se 
forth  his  faithfulness  and  truth  ?  We  put 
all  this  aside  :  it  was  the  contrite  Peter,  we 


130 


THE  MUTUAL  KNOWLEDGE  OF  CHRIST  AND  HIS  PEOPLE. 


say,  the  heart-stricken,  mourning  Peter. 
And  so  here.  He  is  showing  himself  here 
a  faithful  Saviour.  He  says  that  he  will 
be  found  of  all  tliem  that  seek  him ;  and 
he  is  found  first  after  his  resurrection  by  her 
who  is  the  most  anxiously  seeking  him. 
He  said  too  before  he  left  his  disciples,  that 
if  any  man  loved  him,  he  would  love  that 
man,  and  come  unto  him,  and  manifest  him- 
self unto  him.  Mary  might  not  have  heard 
his.  words,  but  here  she  is  most  fervently 
loving  him.  At  this  moment  slie  was  prob- 
ably feeling  more  love  for  him,  than  any 
other  human  being  in  the  world.  "  Here 
then,"  says  the  faithful  Jesus,  "  will  I  show 
that  I  have  not  forgotten  my  promise.  My 
dying  words  are  written  on  my  living 
heart,  and  my  people  shall  see  that  they 
are  written  there.  I  will  go  and  show  my- 
self first  to  Mary  Magdalene.  I  have 
called  angels  down  to  comfort  her,  but  that 
has  not  satisfied  her,  and  it  shall  not  satisfy 
me.  I  will  meet  the  desires  of  her  longing 
soul.     She  shall  see  me  by  her  side." 

Are  you  then,  brethren,  seeking  Jesus 
that  was  crucified  ;  and  seeking  him,  in 
some  measure,  as  this  Jewish  woman 
sought  him  ?  Let  this  scripture  serve  to 
cheer  your  souls.  You  may  be  seeking 
him  weeping,  in  much  distress  and  perplexi- 
ty ;  so  did  she.  You  may  seem  also  to 
have  been  seeking  him  a  long  time  in  vain  ; 
you  may  look  back  on  weeks,  or  months, 
or  even  years,  and  yet,  you  may  say,  no 
sight  of  him,  no  comforting  sense  of  his 
presence,  have  you  enjoyed  :  she  too  sought 
him  at  first  in  vain.  Heavenly  messages 
ako  you  may  have  had ;  minister  after 
minister  may  have  declared  to  you  the  glad 
tidings  of  his  salvation ;  and  yet  nothing, 
you  may  tell  us,  has  brought  you  any  glad- 
ness, any  solid,  abiding  consolation  ;  your 
hearts  may  still  be  desolate:  this  woman 
likewise,  this  Mary  Magdalene,  had  more 
than  ministers,  she  had  angels  to  comfort 
her,  and  still  she  wept.  But  remember  the 
end.  She  turned  herself  at  last  and  saw 
Jesus  standing.  For  a  moment  indeed  she 
did  not  know  him.  Bewildered  with  her 
Borrow,  even  in  his  presence  she  mourned 
ms  absence;  and  so  did  the  two  disciples 
on  their  way  to  Emmaus,  and  so  may  you; 
but  this  (loos  not  last  long.  One  word  from 
her  Master's  lips  brings  Mary  to  herself. 
He  calls  lier  by  her  name,  and  tliat  was 
enough.     Turning  again  from    the  scpul- 

hre  whither  again  slic  had   fastened   her 


eyes,  she  sees  and  discerns  him ;  she  be. 
holds  him  living  whom  she  had  sought  aa 
dead,  and  in  one  word  gives  utterance, 
the  only  utterance  doubtless  she  can  give, 
to  the  wonder  and  joy  of  her  swelling  heart. 
"Jesus  sarth  unto  her,  Mary.  She  turned 
herself  and  saitli  unto  him,  Rabboni ;"  and 
when  before  were  two  Avords  ever  uttered, 
that  expressed  so  much  ?  Perhaps  the  scene 
that  the  sixteenth  verse  of  this  chapter 
paints,  was  one  of  the  very  happiest  of  all 
the  scenes  the  earth  has  known.  But  there 
is  a  happier.  The  veil  which  conceals  the 
risen  Jesus  from  our  view,  will  soon  be 
drawn  aside,  and  we  ourselves,  if  we  are 
his,  shall  see  our  Lord ;  and  see  him,  not 
as  we  shall  see  him  perhaps  to-day  at  his 
table,  in  shadows  and  emblems,  or  at  the 
best  by  his  secret  manifestations  of  himself 
to  us  by  his  Spirit,  but  face  to  face ;  see 
liim  as  Mary  saw  him,  and  see  him  for  our- 
selves and  not  another.  Our  names  shall 
be  uttered,  and  uttered  in  love  and  kindness, 
and  may  I  not  say,  with  joy  ?  by  his  holy 
lips  ;  and  as  we  hear  them  uttered,  every 
fear  and  sorrow  of  our  souls  will  go ;  we 
shall  feel  ourselves  blessed  indeed.  We 
shall  feel  that  tlie  desire  of  our  hearts  is  at 
last  come,  and  that  at  last  we  have  all  that 
our  souls  can  wish  for,  a  fulness  of  joy,  a 
happiness  which  makes  us  happy  to  the 
full  and  happy  forever.  Mary's  joy  was 
soon  for  a  while  damped.  In  the  eagerness 
of  her  soul,  she  would  have  clung  perhaps 
to  the  knees  of  her  discovered  Lord,  but  he 
would  not  suffer  her.  He  had  work  for 
her  to  do  among  her  brethren,  and  he  bids 
her  leave  him  and  go  and  do  it.  But  our 
work  will  be  always  in  our  Master's  pres- 
ence ;  our  joy  will  be  never  damped.  We 
shall  be  ever  with  the  Lord,  and  as  near 
to  him  as  his  love  can  take  us. 


SERMON  XXVIIL 

THE    SECOND   SUNDAY    AFTER   EASTER. 

THE    MUTUAL    KNOWLEDGE    OF    CHRIST 
AND  HIS  SHEEP. 

St.  John  x.  14. — "  /  am  the  good  Shepherd,  and 
know  my  sheep,  and  am  known  of  /«i«e." 

The  Clirislian  life  is  described  in  hoh 
scripture    as   a    hidden    lif(-.      There    are 


THE  MUTUAL  KNOWLEDGE  OF  CIIRLST  AND  HIS  SHEEP. 


131 


many  things  in  it,  which  the  world  never 
sees  or  thinks  of.  And  this  is  one  of  them 
— the  mutual  knowledge  that  exists  hetween 
Christ  and  his  people.  He  knows  tliem,  he 
says,  and  they  know  him  ;  and  what  does 
the  world  understand  of  this  ?  Nothing  at 
all.  But  you  understand  it,  hrethren, 
something  at  least  of  it,  if  you  are  Christ's 
people,  and  your  heart's  desire  is  to  under- 
stand it  hetter.  May  the  Lord  himself  be 
your  teacher  in  this  and  in  all  things!  \ 

I.  Let  us  look  at  Christ's  knowledge  of 
his  people. 

Were  you  and  I  standing  for  the  first 
time  before  a  fleck  of  sheep,  it  would  never 
enter  our  minds  that  their  shepherd  knew 
every  one  of  them  ;  but  in  eastern  coun- 
tries, if  he  were  a  good  shepherd,  an  expe- 
rienced and  faithful  one,  know  them  he 
would.  "  And  that  good  Shepherd,"  says 
Christ,  "  am  I.  That  knowledge  so  un- 
thought  of  by  you  and  so  mysterious  to 
you,  I  possess.  I  claim  it  as  one  of  my  ex- 
cellencies and  glories,  that  I  know  my 
sheep." 

He  knows  their  persons  ;  not  only  the 
number  of  his  flock,  but  every  particular 
sheep  that  belongs  to  his  flock.  He  knows, 
not  only  how  many  of  the  sons  of  men  the 
Fatlier  has  given  him,  how  many  of  them 
he  has  already  carried  to  heaven,  and  how 
many  are  yet  to  be  carried  there — of  all  in 
heaven  and  all  on  earth,  he  knows  every 
one.  "  The  foundation  of  God,"  says  the 
apostle,  "  standeth  sure,  having  this  seal," 
this  stamp  or  inscription  on  the  bottom  stone 
of  it,  "  The  Lord  knoweth  them  that  are 
his."  And  turn  to  Psalm  cxlvii.  "  Tlie 
Lord  doth  build  up  Jerusalem,"  says  the 
psalmist,  in  the  second  verse  ;  "  he  gather- 
eth  together  the  outcasts  of  Israel."  But 
how  can  he  do  this,  we  ask,  so  many  are 
these  outcasts,  and  so  separated  and  scat- 
tered ?  Think,  says  the  psalmist  again,  of 
the  f»tars.  To  you  they  seem  countless. 
You  cannot  number  them,  but  God  can  and 
God  does;  "  He  telleth  the  number  of  the 
stars."  And  not  only  so,  but  ho  sees  each 
individual  star,  knows  its  situation  and  its 
character  ;  "  He  calleth  tliem  all  by  their 
names.  Great  is  our  Lord  and  of  great 
power;  his  understanding  is  infinite."  So 
with  his  people.  They  are  the  star.s  of 
iiis  spiritual  creation.  Many  of  them  are 
too  distant  for  you  to  behold  them  ;  others 
shine  so  dimly,  that  though  near  you,  you 
do  not  perceive  tlicm  ;   but  no  distance,  no 


dimness,  hides  them  from  Christ.  The 
farthest  star,  the  smallest  star,  that  glim- 
mers in  his  clmrch,  is  as  well  known  to  him 
as  the  nearest  and  the  brightest.  Just  as 
he  had  an  infinite  mercy  to  make  them  his 
people,  so  he  has  an  infinite  knowledge  to 
recognise  tl>em  now  they  are  his.  Their 
names  are  all  written  in  his  book  of  life, 
nay,  they  are  written  on  his  heart.  You 
and  I,  brethren,  if  we  are  his,  are  as  well 
known  to  him  as  our  children  are  to  us,  are 
as  readily  distinguished  by  him  from  all 
other  men,  as  we  distinguish  from  other 
men  our  brothers  and  friends.  He  knows 
his  sheep,  the  number  of  his  people  and  the 
person  of  every  one.     But  this  is  not  all. 

He  knows  their  condition  and  circumstan- 
ces. You  may  say,  "  Yes,  the  general  cir- 
cumstances of  his  church,  the  common  con- 
dition of  his  people ;"  but  more  than  this. 
He  is  acquainted  with  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances and  peculiar  condition  of  every  soul 
he  has  redeemed.  He  knows  all  that  can 
be  known  of  it,  all  that  appertains  to  or 
concerns  it — its  sins,  that  he  may  pardon 
them  ;  its  diseases,  that  he  may  heal  them  ; 
its  wants,  that  he  m^y  supply  them  ;  its 
fears,  that  he  may  quiet  them  ;  its  burdens, 
that  he  may  give  it  strength  to  bear  them  ; 
and  its  wanderings,  that  lie  may  recover  it 
from  them.  He  knows  its  prayers,  that  he 
may  grant  them  ;  its  desires,  that  he  may 
satisfy  them  ;  its  graces,  that  he  may  de- 
light in  them  ;  its  services,  that  he  may 
recompense  them.  Look  at  a  faithful  shep- 
herd among  his  flock.  Were  he  able,  would 
he  not  ascertain  the  condition  of  every  sheep 
there  ?  Does  he  not,  as  he  moves  about 
among  them,  endeavor  to  do  so  ?  And  is 
our  divine  Siiepherd  less  careful  than  he  ? 
We  may  say  that  "  our  way  is  hid  from  the 
Lord,"  but  it  is  not  Iii<l  from  him  ;  "  he 
knoweth  the  way  that  we  take,"  every  step 
of  it.  "He  compasscth  our  path;"  he  is 
"acquainted  witli  all  our  ways."  "He 
understandeth  our  thoughts,"  he  says ;  "  he 
searcheth  our  reins  and  our  hearts  ;"  "  the 
very  hairs  of  our  head"  he  numbers.  He 
is  as  observant  of  us  and  as  well  acquainted 
with  us,  as  though  we  were  tlic  only  ob- 
jects  of  his  attention  and  care.  Nay,  tlie 
scripture  assures  us  that  "  he  was  in  all 
points  tempted  like  as  we  arc,"  and  for 
what  purpose  ?  That  he  might  atone  for 
our  sins  ?  No,  though  by  his  temptations 
and  troubles  lie  did  atone  for  them  ;  it  was 
that    he    nii<rht    know    us   belter;  thai    be 


132 


THE  MUTUAL  KNOWLEDGE  OF  CHRIST  AND  HIS  SHEEP. 


might  have  an  experimental  acquaintance 
■with  our  condition  and  circumstances  ;  that 
he  might  have  that  key  to  a  perfect  know- 
ledge  of  us,  which  fellow-feeling  gives. 

And  does  not  this,  brethren,  meet  your 
desires  ?  Does  not  a  knowledge  like  this 
endear  more  to  your  heart  your  great  Re- 
deemer ?  If  you  have  passed  through  much 
sorrow,  you  must  often  have  discovered  that 
your  kindest  fi'iends  have  not  half  under- 
stood you  ;  there  has  been  a  world  within 
you,  into  which  you  have  not  been  able  to 
get  them  to  enter ;  you  have  felt  alone 
among  your  fellow-men  ;  and  why  this  ? 
To  let  you  see  that  human  sympathy  is, 
like  every  thing  earthly,  imperfect ;  to 
force  you  to  turn  to  Christ  as  your  heart's 
best  counsellor  and  comforter.  He  know- 
eth  his  sheep.  In  him  is  all  the  knowledge 
of  the  heart,  the  most  aching,  solitary  heart 
can  desire.  He  is  the  best  of  friends,  be- 
cause with  the  warmest,  tenderesi  love  for 
us,  he  understands  us  best. 

If  we  ask  how  it  is  that  Christ  thus  knows 
his  people,  knows  them  thus  personally  and 
thoroughly  ;  we  may  trace  his  knowledge 
of  them,  first,  to  his  great  love  for  them. 

It  is  plain  that  tHe  sliepherd  who  most 
loves  his  sheep,  will  generally  be  found  the 
best  acquainted  with  them.  And  look  at 
this  or  that  parent  sheep  in  the  flock.  She 
knows  her  lamb  by  the  love  for  it  which 
instinct  gives  her.  This  love  sharpens  her 
eye.  She  sees  one  and  another  peculiarity 
in  her  offspring ;  love  impresses  these  pe- 
culiarities in  her  memory ;  and  place  a 
thousand  lambs  before  her,  that  sheep 
would  still  know  her  own.  So,  we  may 
say,  is  it  with  Christ.  He  loves  his  people, 
therefore  he  knows  his  people.  He  loves 
them  affectionately,  intensely;  therefore  he 
knows  them  well. 

And  great  rntimac!/  with  his  people  may 
be  said  also  to  lead  to  this  perfect  know- 
ledge of  them.  In  our  country,  shepherds 
are  comparatively  little  with  their  sheep. 
The  flock  is  secured  within  folds  or  fences, 
and  the  shepherd  frequently  leaves  them 
and  goes  to  his  home.  But  in  many  coun- 
tries the  shepherds  for  a  great  part  of  the 
year  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  a  home. 
They  live  night  and  day  among  their  flocks, 
following  them  from  mountain  to  mountain, 
and  seeming  among  the  secluded  valleys 
and  lonely  heights  of  those  mountains,  as 
dead  to  the  world  below  them  as  the  sheep 
themselves.     And  Clirist,  brethren,  dwells 


with  his  sheep,  takes  up  his  abode  With 
them.  He  is  a  Shepherd  who  is  never  for 
one  moment  absent  from  his  flock.  By  his 
spiritual  presence  he  lodges  with  them 
every  night,  and  walks  with  them  every 
day.  He  calls  his  church  his  habitation  ; 
he  speaks  of  it  as  his  rest ;  he  dwells  in  it 
as  his  home.  And  this  makes  him  familiar 
with  liis  church,  and  with  all  its  various 
and  changing  circumstances  ;  this  gives 
him  so  complete  a  knowledge  of  it.  You 
know  well  those  who  have  for  years  shared 
your  house  and  table.  The  husband  knows 
his  wife,  and  the  parent  his  child.  So  the 
Lord  knows  his  people.  They  walk  with 
him,  and  he  with  them  ;  they  abide  in  him, 
and  he  in  them  ;  he  is  in  constant  intimacy 
and  intercourse  with  them ;  familiarity 
with  them  brings  him  acquainted  with 
them. 

But  all  this,  you  may  say,  is  liniiting 
the  Lord  Jesus.  VVe  will  add  then  one 
thing  more — the  Lord  Jesus  knows  his 
sheep,  /or  he  is  none  other  than  the  God  icho 
knoweth  all  things.  We  may  trace  his  per- 
fect knowledge  of  us  to  his  perfect  God- 
head. And  this  idea  seems  to  have  been 
at  this  time  in  his  own  thoughts.  "  Does  it 
appear  to  you,"  he  seems  to  say  to  us,  "  a 
wonderful  thing  that  I  know  my  people  ? 
As  you  think  of  their  countless  number, 
and  scattered  dwellings,  and  diversified 
conditions,  are  you  ready  to  say,  how  can 
one  eye  see  or  any  one  mind  comprehend 
them  all  ?  I  can  tell  you  a  more  wonder- 
ful thing  than  this.  I  can  understand  not 
only  the  whole  multitude  of  you  finite, 
petty  creatures,  but  the  infinite  Jehovah 
himself,  and  as  perfectly  as  that  infinite  Je- 
hovah understands  me."  "  As  the  Father," 
he  adds  in  the  next  verse,  "  knoweth  me, 
even  so  know  I  the  Father."  This  is  know- 
ledge indeed.  We,  brethren,  do  not  half 
know  even  ourselves  ;  we  do  not  thorough- 
ly know  the  nature  and  substance  of  any 
one  created  thing.  As  for  God,  what  is  our 
knowledge  of  him,  or  the  highest  arch- 
angel's knowledge  of  him  ?  We  know  not 
what  to  call  it.  Were  we  to  speak  it  as 
we  feel,  we  should  say  it  is  less  than 
nothing.  But  Christ  knows  God,  all 
that  can  be  known  of  him,  all  that  God 
knows  of  himself.  He  has  a  perfect  know- 
ledge  of  him.  We  must  cease  therefore 
to  wonder  that  he  has  a  perfect  knowledge 
of  us.  His  mind  can  grasp  the  mighty 
ocean  ;  he  can  fathom  its  depths  and  look 


THE  MUTUAL  KNOWLEDGE  OF  CHRIST  AND  HIS  SHEEP. 


133 


with  ono  glance  ovor  its  measureless  ex- 
panse ;  surely  then  the  shallow  rivulet  can- 
not be  too  deep  for  him,  nor  the  drops  of 
*.he  falling  rain  too  great. 

II.  We  may  come  now  to  the  other  part 
of  our  subject — the  knowledge  which  Christ''s 
people  have  of  him. 

"  I  know  my  sheep,"  he  says,  "  and  am 
known  of  mine."  He  does  not  mean  by 
this  that  his  sheep  know  him  as  well  as  he 
knows  them  ;  he  means  that  they  all  really 
know  him,  something  of  him,  and  this  as  no 
other  man  does.  Their  knowledge  of  him 
is  therefore, 

1.  A  peculiar  knowledge.  Their  fellow- 
men  do  not  possess  it,  nor  at  all  understand 
it.  You  are  not  only  unable  to  impart  it 
to  them,  you  cannot  make  them  compre- 
hend its  nature  and  character.  Its  pecu- 
liarity consists  partly  in  the  truths  it  re- 
ceives concerning  the  Lord  Jesus;  but  it 
consists  still  more  in  the  manner  in  which 
these  truths  are  received,  and  in  the  influ- 
ence which  they  exercise  over  the  mind  and 
heart. 

2.  The  text  implies  too  that  it  is  an  «c- 
qtiircd  kiwn'/edge.  It  is  not  natural  to  us. 
Nature  does  not  teach  it  us.  The  young 
sheep  know^s  its  mother  by  instinct,  bxit  not 
its  shepherd.  So  we  have  naturally  no 
knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ.  And  mere 
thought  and  reflection  never  bring  us  to  any 
real  knowledge  of  him,  nor  of  itself  does 
any  human  teaching.  How  much  have 
some  of  you  been  told  of  him  ?  You  have 
heard  of  him  perhaps  almost  every  sabbath 
since  you  first  heard  of  any  thing,  and  yet, 
beloved  brethren,  what  do  you  at  this  mo- 
ment know  of  him  ?  know  of  him,  I  mean, 
in  his  real  character  as  the  power  of  God 
and  the  wisdom  of  God  ?  as  your  guilty 
soul's  rest  and  Saviour?  It  may  be,  no- 
thing ;  no  more  than  the  very  heathen  who 
has  never  heard  the  sound  of  his  name.  All 
real  knowledge  of  Christ  is  the  eflect  of  a 
special  manifestation  of  him  to  the  .soul. 
Christ,  by  the  power  of  God,  is  presented  to 
the  soul  in  a  peculiar  manner,  and  the  soul 
then  acquires  or  begins  to  acquire  a  pecu- 
liar knowledge  of  him.  I  do  not  mean  that 
any  thing  new  is  revealed  to  it  concerning 
him,  any  thing  beyond  what  holy  scripture 
confains,  but  what  the  scripture  does  con- 
tain is  placed  before  it  in  a  new  light,  en- 
ters  the  understanding  in  a  new  manner, 
passes  from  the  Bible  or  the  pulpit  into  our 
minds  and  hearts,  as  though  GotI  himself 


sent  it  into  our  minds  and  hearts  ;  it  ofteu 
surprises  us  as  much  and  affects  us  as 
much,  as  though  the  heavens  were  opened 
and  a  new  revelation  of  Christ  were  made 
to  us ;  we  feel  as  men  who  for  the  first 
time  have  seen  their  Lord. 

3.  But  this  knowledge  of  Christ  is  ac- 
quired  vuiinly  hij  experience  ;  it  is  the  result 
of  experience.  Some  knowledge  of  him, 
his  people  get  from  faith  in  the  testimony 
of  God  concerning  him.  God  tells  them  in 
his  word  what  Christ  is,  and  they,  through 
the- Spirit,  understand  and  believe  the  tes- 
timony he  gives  them.  But  the  chief  spring 
of  their  knowledge  is  ol'len  precisely  tiiat 
intimated  in  the  text,  that  which  brings  the 
sheep  to  know  its  shepherd.  When  it  has 
hungered,  the  shepherd  has  fed  it  ;  when  it 
has  wandered,  the  shepherd  has  brought  it 
back  ;  when  it  has  not  known  which  way 
to  go  on  the  mountains,  the  shepherd  has 
guided  it;  when  it  has  fallen  into  danger, 
he  has  extricated  it ;  wherever  it  has  been, 
it  has  seen  him  near  it ;  it  has  experienced 
in  numberless  ways  the  shepherd's  care  and 
kindness,  therefore  it  knows  him.  And  ask 
the  believer  whence  has  sprung  his  know, 
ledge  of  his  Saviour?  "  Under  God,"  he 
says,  "  experience  has  taught  it  me.  I  was 
lost,  and  my  Redeemer  found  me  ;  I  was 
perishing,  and  my  Redeemer  saved  me.  I 
have  felt  his  power,  and  goodness,  and  love, 
and  grace,  O  how  frequently  and  blessed- 
ly! therefore  I  know  liim  to  be  powerful 
and  gracious.  I  am  sure  he  is  wise,  for  he 
is  often  making  me  wonder  at  his  wisdom 
in  his  dealings  with  me  ;  and  I  know  he  is 
great,  for  heis  glorifying  his  greatness  con- 
tinually  before  my  eyes,  in  preserving,  de- 
livering,  and  helping  me.  As  for  his  holi- 
ness, I  cannot  doubt  that ;  he  is  often  con- 
straining me  to  feel  it  in  the  troubled  con- 
science and  the  bitter  afllictions  he  sends 
"^e.  And  his  all-sufficiency  I  cannot  (K)ulil  ; 
it  is  as  clear  to  me  as  the  noon-day  sun.  I 
have  never  made  him  my  all,  but  all  my 
wants  have  been  supplied." 

And  one  thing  more — 

4.  This  knowledge  of  Christ  is  practical. 
The  soul  that  possesses  it,  is  brought  in 
every  instance  under  the  influence  of 
Christ:  it  becomes  willing  and  obedient. 

Think  again  of  the  sheep.  We  in  this 
country  regard  it  as  a  dull,  unteachahle 
animal,  and  our  shepherds  treat  it  as  such  ; 
hut  in  other  countries,  where  it  is  ollicr- 
wise  treated,  it  manifesis  what  to  us  would 


134 


THE  MUTUAL  KNOWLEDGE  OF  CHRIST  AND  HIS  SHEEP. 


appear  a  surprising  docility  and  obedience. 
Go  only  into  a  neighboring  land — the  shep- 
herd fearlessly  turns  his  flock  on  a  piece 
of  ground  with  his  neighbor's  corn  standing 
unfenced  and  unprotected  on  each  side  of 
it.  He  knows  that  that  corn  is  safe,  for  he 
has  so  trained  his  sheep,  that  not  one  of 
them  will  touch  it.  And  look  at  this  chap- 
ter. Our  Lord  alludes  again  and  again  in 
it  to  an  almost  universal  custom  of  foreign 
shepherds.  We  drive  our  sheep,  they  lead 
theirs.  They  have  only  to  call  them  and 
go  before  them,  and  the  sheep  will  follow 
them,  long  as  their  strength  lasts,  wherever 
they  lead.  And  so  says  our  Lord  of  him- 
self; "  He  calleth  his  own  sheep  by  name, 
and  leadeth  them  out.  He  goeth  before 
them,  and  the  sheep  follow  him,  for  they 
know  his  voice."  He  traces,  you  observe, 
their  following  of  him  to  their  knowledge 
of  him.  "  A  stranger  will  they  not  fol- 
low," he  adds,  "  but  will  flee  from  him,  for 
they  know  not  the  voice  of  strangers."  And 
so,  brethren,  it  ever  is.  When  we  begin 
to  know  Christ,  we  begin  to  obey  him.  Be- 
fore we  know  him,  nothing  can  rule  us  ; 
we  are  as  lawless  and  self-willed  as  the 
wild  .sheep  of  the  mountains.  Keep  us 
without  a  fence  from  going  where  we  ought 
not  ?  Alas !  scarcely  any  fences  can  be 
found  strong  enough  to  keep  us  in ;  we 
break  through  any  thing.  And  as  for  fol- 
lowing at  our  Master's  call  his  blessed  foot- 
steps, we  will  roam  the  desert  first,  dreary 
and  barren  as  the  desert  is.  But  let  the 
soul  once  experience  Christ's  grace  and 
love,  and  through  that  experience  get  a 
spiritual  knowledge  of  Christ,  it  says  then, 
"O  let  me  follow  him  forever!"  It  be- 
comes docile  and  tractable,  yielding  and 
subdued.  It  no  longer  wants  the  whole 
wilderness  to  roam  in,  to  go  this  way  and 
that,  where  its  own  corrupt  inclinations 
would  lead  ;  all  it  wants  is  to  go  straight 
on,  to  follow  Christ  to  heaven.  A  wonder- 
'ul  change,  brethren,  passes  on  such  a  soul. 
It  is  no  more  like  what  it  once  was,  than  a 
wild  animal  is  like  a  disciplined,  trained, 
and  domestic  one. 

And  what  a  beautiful  picture  does  this 
image  give  us  of  the  church  of  Christ!  It 
is  not  a  flock  of  half  wild  sheep,  running 
hithei  and  thither,  kept  together  with  diffi- 
culty, and  driven  on  to  their  destined  home 
with  blows  and  shoutings ;  no,  their  Shep- 
herd is  before  them,  and  they  know  him  ; 


they  keep  him  in  sight ;  and,  like  a  willing 
flock,  they  quietly  ibllow  him.  Now  and 
then  there  is  a  halting  among  them;  one 
falls  down  here,  and  another  there  ;  one  is 
bleeding  from  some  wound  he  has  received, 
and  another  is  going  on  faint  and  weary 
through  nature's  weakness ;  but  still  the 
flock  does  go  on,  and  when  their  journey 
is  ended  and  their  number  is  counted,  how 
many  has  the  Shepherd  lost  ?  A  spectator 
would  have  said  as  he  saw  them  toiling 
along  across  that  desert,  or  up  those  heights, 
or  through  those  dark  and  dangerous  val- 
leys, "  There  will  be  thousands  lost,"  but 
the  great  Shepherd  himself  says,  "  Not 
one.  Here  they  are,  all  whom  my  Father 
intrusted  to  me,  every  one  of  the  sons  of 
men  who  ever  committed  himself  to  my 
care  and  keeping.  Here  they  are,  and 
here  they  shall  be  through  a  lo))g,  endless 
summer,  one  happy  flock  under  one  happy 
Shepherd,  my  happy  people  under  me  their 
happy  Saviour." 

Brethren,  do  you  thus  know  Christ  ?  Have 
you  this  soul-subduing,  practical  knowledge 
of  him  ?  this  peculiar,  heaven-taught,  ex- 
perimental acquaintance  with  him  ?  Then 
go  back  to  the  first  part  of  this  text,  and 
remember  for  your  comfort  that  Christ 
knows  you.  We  do  not  half  understand 
the  power  of  these  common,  simple  truths 
of  the  gospel.  In  our  search  for  novelty, 
we  are  often  like  men  leaving  an  open  mine 
with  the  richest  ore  in  it,  and  digging  into 
other  mines,  which  after  we  have  dug  into 
them  may  not  prove  so  rich.  But  would 
we  fasten  our  minds  on  these  truths,  and 
pray  to  God  to  unfold  them  to  us,  O  how 
rich,  and  precious,  and  cheering,  should  we 
often  find  them  !  This  simple  truth,  "  The 
Lord  knoweth  them  that  are  his.  If  I 
am  one  of  his,  he  knoweth  me" — there  is 
enough  in  this  to  make  a  man  feel,  in  his 
utmost  weakness,  firm  as  a  rock  ;  and  in 
his  greatest  perils  and  his  darkest  troubles, 
safe  as  an  angel.  The  God  of  peace  has 
brought  again  from  the  dead  our  Lord  Jesus, 
that  great  Shepherd  of  the  sheep,  brought 
him  from  the  dead  and  raised  him  on  liigh 
in  the  character  of  their  Shepherd.  O  let 
me  be  once  numbered  among  the  .>^heep, 
once  return  unto  him  the  Shepherd  and 
Bishop  of  souls,  and  what  shall  liarni  rtie  ? 
There  is  not  a  creature  in  the  universe 
more  secure  than  I  am,  nor  one  who  in  the 
end  will  be  more  blessed. 


THE  DIVINE  COMMANDMENTS  SOURCES  OF  PEACE. 


135 


SERMON  XXIX. 

THE    THIRD    SUNDAY  AFTER    EASTER. 

THE  DIVINE  COMMANDMENTS  SOURCES 
OF  PEACE. 

Isaiah  xlviii.  18. — "  O  that  thou  hadst  hearkened 
to  my  commandments  !  then  had  thy  peace  been 
as  a  rirer,  and  thy  righteousness  as  the  waves 
of  the  sea." 

There  is  a  class  of  Christians  in  almost 
every  congregation,  who  are  frequently 
connplaining  of  their  want  of  holiness  and 
their  want  of  peace.  They  are  comfort- 
less, they  say,  and  falling  continually  into 
sin ;  and  this  troubles  them.  Now  here, 
in  this  text,  the  Lord  addresses  men  of  this 
class.  He  tells  them  that  they  have  rea- 
son to  be  troubled.  Instead  of  comforting 
them,  he  seems  to  mourn  and  complain 
with  them.  And  to  aggravate  their  distress, 
he  tells  them  that  they  have  brought  it  on 
themselves  ;  that  it  might  all  have  been 
avoided  ;  that  had  they  been  so  minded, 
they  might  have  been  at  this  moment  very 
peaceful  and  holy.  And  his  words  are 
true,  brethren.  The  Lord  grant  that  some 
of  us  may  this  day  feel  their  truth  ! 

L  They  point  out  to  us  the  conduct  these 
vim  oii^ht  to  have  pursued  ;  "  O  that  thou 
hadst  hearkened  to  my  commandments  !" 

Bv  his  "  commandments,"  the  Lord  means 
his  holy  law,  all  of  it,  every  precept  he  has 
given  us  of  every  kind. 

To  these  we  are  to  "hearken"  or  listen. 
The  word  imports  that  God  is  sounding  his 
commandments  every  moment  in  our  ears, 
and  calling  our  attention  to  them.  And  he 
really  is  doing  so.  By  writing  his  law  in 
his  word,  and  putting  his  word  into  our 
hands,  he  is  speaking  continually  to  us 
from  heaven.  No  burning  mountain  shakes 
before  us,  no  dark  cloud  overshadows  us, 
no  lightnings  blaze,  but  there  lies  the  law 
of  the  great  Jehovah  written  before  us  ;  he 
speaks  to  us  in  it  as  really  as  though  he 
were  now  thundering  on  Sinai,  and  we 
trembling  in  the  wilderness  at  its  foot. 

But  what  does  this  hearkening  to  God's 
commandments  mean  ?  Certainly  some- 
thing Tiore  than  a  mere  reading  of  them. 

It  means  a  close  alleniion  to  Ihrm.  A  list- 
ening man  is  a  man  in  an  attitmie  of  at- 
tention. He  is  not  one  who  happens  to 
hear  a  sound  as  he  is  passing  along  intent 
on  other  matters  J  he  is  one  who  stands 


still  to  hear,  and  gives  his  thoughts  to  what 
he  hears,  and  ponders  it. 

Hence  we  may  say,  this  hearkening  im- 
plies further  rt«  undcrstaiulivir  of  God's  com. 
mandmenls.  Plain  as  tiiey  are,  they  are 
often  misunderstood,  sometimes  almost  wil- 
fully so.  Very  few  of  us  try  to  understand 
them.  They  go  further  and  come  more 
closely  home  than  we  wish,  and  we  had 
rather  keep  a  veil  over  their  meaning,  than 
have  it  made  plain  and  clear.  But  God 
calls  on  us  here  to  rise  above  this  feeling; 
to  look  at  his  commandments  as  his  com- 
mandments really  are  ;  to  view  them  in  all 
their  spirituality  of  meaning  and  all  their 
broadness  of  extent;  to  say  of  them,  "They 
aim  at  my  heart ;  they  claim  a  dominion 
over  my  inmost  feelings  and  thoughts.  My 
words  and  actions,  were  all  my  words  and 
actions  conformed  to  them,  would  not  meet 
their  demands.  They  are  a  law  for  my 
mind.  I  must  give  them  tiie  obedience  of 
my  soul." 

And  to  do  this,  there  must  be  also  a  re- 
memhering  of  God's  covvnands.  I  do  not 
mean  a  consciousness  when  we  are  told  of 
it,  that  this  or  that  precept  stands  in  his 
word,  but  such  a  placing  of  every  precept 
in  our  memories,  as  causes  it  often  to  recur 
to  us,  whether  we  are  told  of  it  or  not;  a 
frequent  remembrance  of  it,  grounded  on  a 
familiar  acquaintance  with  it.  David  well 
expresses  this  when  he  says,  "  Thy  word 
have  I  hid  in  mine  heart."  And  this  too  is 
a  part  of  what  the  blessed  Saviour  means 
when  he  says  to  his  Father,  "  Thy  law  is 
within  my  heart." 

And  one  thing  more — this  hearkening  to 
God's  commands  implies  a  regarding  of 
them  as  commands.  Here  again  many  of 
us  are  greatly  wanting,  and  almost  without 
knowing  that  we  are.  It  has  pleased  God 
to  reveal  himself  to  us  in  his  word  under 
many  very  gracious  characters,  such  as 
our  Father,  our  Guide,  our  Friend  ;  and 
moreover  to  adopt  language  in  speaking  to 
us,  harmonizing  with  these  characters.  His 
commands  consequently  often  assume  the 
form  of  invitations,  advice,  expostulations, 
and  even  entreaties.  Now  we  in  our  folly 
abuse  this  condescension.  We  forget  who 
he  is,  that  thus  counsels  and  beseeches  us. 
The  authority,  the  majesty,  the  awful  holi- 
ness,  of  Jehovah  are  lost  sight  of  in  his  love. 
And  then  comes  in  .sometimes  tlie  mis- 
chievous notion,  that  the  work  of  Christ  has 
[in  some  way  or  other  altered  God's  law, 


136 


THE  DIVINE  COMMANDMENTS  SOURCES  OF  PEACE 


or  else  loosened  our  obligation  to  obey  it 
In  vain  does  God  tell  us  that  he  had  rather 
suffer  the  heavens  and  the  earth  to  pass 
away,  than  alter  one  jot  or  tittle  of  it ;  in 
vain  does  he  say  that  his  gospel  establishes 
it,  and  was  intended  to  establish  it ;  in  vain 
does  he  everywhere  declare  that  the  final 
end  of  all  the  Saviour  has  suffered  and  done 
and  is  doing  still,  is  to  conform  us  to  it;  we 
cannot  get  rid  of  the  idea  that  we  need  not 
be  conformed  to  it,  that  we  are  set  free 
from  it,  that  in  our  case,  not  only  its  curse, 
but  its  authority  is  gone.  When  God,  there- 
fore, calls  on  us  to  hearken  to  his  command- 
ments, he  bids  us  lay  aside  these  delusions. 
He  calls  on  us  to  look  on  him  in  his  forgot- 
ten character  of  our  Lawgiver.  He  seats 
himself  on  the  throne  of  his  glory,  takes  up 
the  sceptre  of  his  majesty,  points  to  the  ever- 
lasting law  that  his  own  holy  hand  has 
written,  and  bids  us  and  the  whole  earth 
tremble  before  him. 

II.  The  text  shows  us  a  blessed  result  of 
iliis  conduct  when  pursued.  This,  it  says, 
is  peace  ;  and  by  peace  it  undoubtedly 
means  inward  peace,  peace  of  mind.  Our 
business  then  must  be  to  inquire  how  this 
effect  is  produced. 

All  true  happiness  comes  from  God.  He 
is  the  spring  of  it.  Flowing  out  of  his 
holy  and  glorious  perfections,  it  rises  up  in 
him,  as  water  rises  in  a  fountain ;  and  it 
dvvells  in  him,  as  water  dwells  in  a  mighty 
sea.  For  us,  therefore,  to  partake  of  it, 
we  must  be  brought  near  to  God ;  and  for 
us  to  partake  largely  of  it,  we  must  be 
made  in  some  measure  like  God.  And  in 
both  these  ways,  does  this  hearkening  to 
his  commands  bring  us  peace. 

1.  It  leads  the  soul  to  Christy  the  great 
Prince  of  peace. 

We  cannot  keep  God's  law  in  remem- 
brance, not  at  least  if  we  rightly  under- 
stand it,  without  having  continually  forced 
on  our  minds  a  conviction  of  our  own  sin- 
fulness and  danger.  "  There  is  a  com- 
mand ;  it  is  the  living  God's;  it  i.s  ad- 
dressed to  me.  It  says  there  is  ruin,  there 
is  dcatli,  for  me  if  I  disobey  it.  I  have  dis- 
olieycd  it,  and  that  a  thousand  times.  And- 
wliat  awaits  me  ?"  "  Why,"  answers  the 
soul,  "  if  I  stand  still,  death  awaits  me  ;  it 
will  overtake  me.  I  must  fly  anew  then  to 
my  great  Deliverer  ;  I  must  betake  myself 
again  to  him  who  only  can  save  me.  This 
guilty  conscience,  these  tormenting  fears, 
must    be    quieted;  and    where  cuiilfind 


quiet  under  them,  but  in  the  cleansing 
blood  of  my  precious  Lord  ?"  The  law 
thus  becomes  in  fact  a  source  of  comfort. 
It  speaks  of  danger ;  it  excites  fear  ;  this 
fear  drives  the  soul  anew  to  its  refuge  and 
hiding  place,  and  there  it  rests.  It  finds 
not  only  security  in  it,  but  consolation,  and 
consolation  arising  out  of  a  sense  of  its  se- 
curity. Its  Saviour  thus  becomes  its  Com- 
forter. It  feels  itself  as  safe  in  him,  as 
love,  and  faithfulness,  and  omnipotence, 
can  make  it ;  and  this  feeling  is  unuttera- 
bly joyous  to  it  and  sweet.  You,  brethren, 
who  have  never  known  what  a  deep  con- 
sciousness of  sin  is,  can  form  no  conception 
of  what  it  is  to  find  a  Saviour  from  it.  A 
refuge  from  a  storm,  water  in  a  desert,  food 
when  starving,  a  life-boat  in  a  wreck,  are 
not  more  valued.  They  could  not  thrill 
your  souls  with  a  livelier  joy. 

2.  Conduct  like  this  leads  us  to  the  Holy 
Spirit,  the  Comforter  ;  and  thus  also  proves 
a  source  of  peace. 

We  cannot  hearken  to  God's  commands 
in  the  way  I  have  described,  without  see- 
ing that  we  must  obey  them.  A  convic- 
tion  will  gradually  take  possession  of  our 
minds,  that  our  former  notions  on  this  point 
have  been  altogether  wrong  ;  that  though 
we  had  forgotten  it,  we  are  really  under 
the  authority  of  the  great  King  of  heaven, 
and  must  conform  ourselves  in  heart  and 
life  to  his  sovereign  will.  And  no  applica- 
tion to  Christ  for  mercy,  no  sense  of  safety 
in  Christ,  no  joyful  hope  in  him,  will  weak- 
en this  conviction.  The  soul,  as  it  looks 
out  from  its  hiding  place,  sees  its  great 
Lawgiver  still  on  his  throne,  and  his  law 
shining  unchanged  above  him.  "  I  am 
safe,"  it  says,  •'  from  condemnation.  No 
curse  can  fall  on  me  here,  no  evil  harm 
me  ;  but  the  voice  of  my  God  is  still  the 
same  to  me,  as  before  I  came  here.  It  still 
bids  me  be  holy.  It  still  says  to  me,  that 
unless  I  am  so,  I  can  never  enter  into  his 
kingdom  or  share  his  joy.  And  my  Deliv- 
erer himself  tells  me  the  same.  I  cannot 
remain  unholy,  he  says,  if  I  abide  in  him. 
I  must  give  up  my  sins,  or  give  him  uj). 
If  I  do  not  cast  them  away,  he  will  cast 
me  away.  And  all  this  I  feel  to  be  true 
and  right.  Something  within  me  speaks 
the  same  language.  I  feel  that  holiness  is 
needful  for  me,  as  needful  for  my  happi- 
ness as  Christ  himself  for  my  safety." 
Aceordi'igly  the  soul  begins  to  labor  aftei 
holiness.  •    It  tri'\s  witii  its  utmost  power  to 


THE  DIVINE  COMMANDMENTS  SOURCES  OF  PEACE 


137 


hearkening '  shall  be  peace,  and  the  elVect  of  righteous- 

Every  one   ness,  quietness  and  assurance  for  ever." 

'  I)is-l"The   kingdom  of  God,"  says  St.  Paul, 


obey  the   commanthncnts  it  i 
♦0.     And  what  is  the  result  ? 

K   tovei-y  of  inward  corrup.ion  and   not  meat  and  dnnk   but  r.s.'h.eou»ne.«,  and 


weakness.     We   find   out  that   the  soul's 
power  is  gone,  as  well  as  its  innocence  - 


that  we  can  do  nothing  ;  that  sin  has  done 
more  than  make  us  criminal,  it  has  tied 
and  bound  us  in  fetters  we  cannot  break  ; 
it  has  polluted  every  corner  of  the  soul, 
and  left  it  a  sad,  pitiable,  helpless  mass  of 
corruption.  In  this  state,  such  a  soul  as 
we  have  in  view,  cannot  rest.  It  abhors 
and  hates  it.  "I  must  get  out  of  it,"  it 
savs.  "  I  cannot  bear  it.  I  must  be  holy 
or  wretched." 

And  now  there  opens  itself  before  it  an- 
other pathway  to  peace.  It  hears  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  the  Sanctifier.  It  goes  to  him 
to  sanctify  and  cleanse  it ;  and  in  him  also 
it  finds  consolation.  Me  is  the  appointed 
Comforter  of  the  church,  and  though  the 
soul  does  not  go  to  him  perhaps  in  the  first 
instance  for  comfort,  it  finds  comfort  in  hnn, 
it  draws  comfort  out  of  him.  If  he  does 
nothing  more  for  it,  he  helps  it  in  its  con- 
flict wTth  sin  and  with  itself,  and  that  bnngs 
it  peace. 

In  the  former  case,  we  had  the  law,  then 
a  sense  of  guilt,  then  Christ  the  Saviour 
from  guilt,  "and  so  peace  ;  here,  m  this 
case,  we  begin  the  same  and  end  the  same, 
but  the  process  is  different ;  first  the  law, 
then  a  sense  of  pollution  and  weakness, 
then  the  Holy  Spirit  the  Sanctifier,  then  a 
drawing  near  to  him,  and  so  again  peace. 

3.  Peace  flows  from  hearkening  to  the 
divine  commands,  in  yet  another  way— 
then  gradually  make  m  holy,  and  holiness 
lead-t  to  peace.  *  ,  ,        ■ 

We  often  conceive  of  spiritual  happiness 
as  of  something  existing  independently  in 
the  mind  ;  independently,  I  mean,  not  ot 
God,  but  of  any  thing  else  in  the  mind. 
This  however  is  not  the  case.  General  y 
speaking,  the  peace  which  is  found  in  the 
Christian's  heart,  grows  out  of  something 
else  which  God  has  put  into  the  Christian  s 
heart.  It  is  the  fruit  of  that  grace  and  lio- 
liness,  the  result  of  those  pure  and  heav- 
enlv  dispositions,  which  are  wrougiit  withm 
him  bv  the  Holv  Ghost. 

Holiness   is  the  root  of  happiness.      It 
contains  within    itself  the  germ,  the  ele- 
ments   and   materials,  of  it.     Hence   the 
Lord  says,  "The  work  of  righteousness 
18 


peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost."  Now 
we  become  "holy  partly  by  studying  God's 
law.  As  we  study  it,  we  begin  to  form 
correct  ideas  of  holiness,  to  discover  the 
beauty  and  excellency  of  it,  to  have  our 
desires  and  eflbrts  after  it  strengthened,  to 
gain  possession  in  some  degree  of  the  thing 
Ttself.  The  heart  gradually  becomf-s  holy, 
and  becoming  holy,  it  becomes  §erene  and 

happy.  ,      , • 

And  mark,  brethren,  how  strongly  this 
is  expressed  in  the  text.  It  is  not  our 
peace,  that  we  are  promised  shall  be  as  the 
waves  of  the  sea,  if  we  hearken  to  God's 
commands;  it  is  our  righteousness;  and 
vet  doubtless  our  peace  is  meant.  The 
one  word  is  used  for  the  other.  The  two 
things  are  identified  in  the  divine  mind. 
God  means  to  say,  "  Hearken  to  my  com- 
mands, and  vour  righteousness  shall  be  as 
the  waves,  and  that^'shall  make  your  peace 
also  as  the  waves." 

III.  And  this  brings  us  to  a  third  part  ot 
the  text— Me  extent" of  that  blessed  effect 
spoken  of  in  it.  Here  is  more  tlian  peace 
promised  us,  here  is  a  river  of  peace,  yea, 
an  ocean  of  it ;  "  O  that  thou  hadst  heark- 
ened  to  mv  commandments  !  then  had  thy 
peace  been  as  a  river,  and  thy  rigliteous- 
ness  as  the  waves  of  the  sea." 

The  figure  conveys  the  idea  o^ahmdance. 
The  ChrTslian's  peace,  it  says,  shall  not  en- 
ter  his  soul  bv  drops,  or  flow  through  it  as 
a  scanty  and  shallow  rivulet.  Tiiere  sliall 
be  a  tide  of  peace,  a  wide  and  deep  stream 
of  it,  passing  into  his  soul.  It  shall  per- 
vade his  soul,  reaching  every  faculty,  and 
thouMit,  and  feeling,  in  it.  His  under- 
standinii,  his  affbctions,  his  will,  his  whole 
mind,  shall  be  at  rest,  and,  in  the  end,  per- 
fectly at  rest.  The  waters  shall  be  deep, 
as  well  as  broad.  Thus  this  prophet  speaks 
elsewhere  of  the  "  perfect  peace'  of  the 
believer  ;  and  David,  of  his  "  great  peace. 
"  The  peace  of  God,"  we  read,  "  passeth 
all  understanding."  It  not  only  exceeds 
our  comprehension  in  its  nature,  we  can  set 
no  bounds  to  its  extent.  We  camiot  tHl 
how  peaceful  God  can  make  us.  There  is 
an  abundance  of  peace  fiir  us,  for  there  is 
God's  own  peace  for  us.  that  which  reigns 
over  and   keeps  tranquil  his  own  mighty 


138 


THE  DIVINE  COMMANDMENTS  SOURCES  OF  PEACE. 


mind.  We  often  wish  for  the  peace  of  this 
Christian  friend,  or  the  quiet  of  that  Chris- 
tian neighbor.  "  O,"  we  say,  "that  we 
were  as  calm  in  our  troubles  and  vexations 
as  he  !"  "  But  what  is  that  ?"  says  Christ. 
"  Here  is  my  peace  for  you,  a  calmness 
like  my  own.  Peace  I  leave  with  you  ; 
my  peace  I  give  unto  you." 

There  is  another  idea  suggested  by  this 
figure — constancy,  perpetuity. 

A  river  is,  in  most  cases,  a  permanent 
thing.  Not  like  an  occasional  torrent 
which  rushes  down  from  the  mountain  to- 
day and  disappears  to-morrow,  nor  like  a 
lake  which  the  rains  have  formed,  and 
which  will  dry  up  when  the  rains  are  ovei\ 
a  river  flows  on  day  after  day  and  year  af- 
ter year,  deeper  at  one  time  than  another 
and  more  rapid  and  wide,  yet  never  ex- 
hausted, rolling  on  the  same  throughout  all 
generations.  So  that  peace  of  which  this 
text  speaks,  is  a  permanent,  established 
thing.  As  long  as  the  believer  hearkens 
to  God's  commandments,  it  reigns  over  his 
soul,  and  keeps  it,  if  not  in  an  unbroken, 
yet  in  an  abidhig  calm. 

I  do  not  mean  that  the  state  of  his  mind 
is  always  the  same,  or  his  happiness  al- 
ways unalloyed  and  abundant.  Trace  a 
river  from  its  source  to  its  mouth,  and 
there  is  generally  an  almost  endless  vari- 
ety in  its  course  and  appearance.  It  is 
now  half  hidden  in  a  narrow  channel  among 
mountains  and  forests,  and  now  spread  over 
a  wide  bed,  conspicuous  in  the  plain  ;  and 
then  again  it  is  seen  contracting  and  deep- 
ening itself,  and  moving  onward  with  ten- 
fold velocity  and  strength.  And  look  at 
the  Christian's  peace — it  seems  to  vary  as 
much.  It  often  changes  with  the  changing 
scenes  and  circumstances  in  which  he  is 
placed.  It  sometimes  nearly  disappears  ; 
the  man  himself  perhaps  thinks  it  quite 
gone  ;  but  after  a  while,  it  breaks  forth 
again  he  scarcely  knows  how,  a-nd  surpri- 
ses and  gladdens  him.  He  is  never  wholly 
without  it  while  walking  in  the  paths  of 
God's  commandments,  and  never  will  be. 
He  may  at  times  be  distressed,  he  may  be 
sorrowful,  but  this  peace  will  allay  his  dis- 
tress, it  w^ill  bear  him  up  in  his  «orrow.  It 
exists  and  may  generally  be  discovered  in 
his  darkest  hours. 

And  further — increase  also  is  included 
in  this  promise,  an  increase  of  peace. 

A  river  is  not  formed  at  once.  If  we  go 
to  its   head,  it  is  generally  a  mere  thread 


of  water,  scarcely  perceptible  through  the 
grass  and  rushes  among  which  it  is  run. 
ning.  But  as  it  flows  on,  other  streams 
fall  into  it ;  it  widens  and  deepens ;  and 
the  further  it  flows,  the  more  enlarged  it 
becomes,  till  it  loses  itself  at  last  in  the 
depths  of  the  ocean.  And  there  is  clearly 
this  idea  of  increase  in  the  text.  The 
peace  it  promises,  is  at  first  a  river,  but 
immediately  afterwards,  under  another 
name,  it  is  described  under  another  figure 
— it  is  as  deep  and  boundless  as  the  waves 
of  the  sea.     And  the  description  is  true. 

There  is  not  much  peace  in  the  sinner's 
heart,  when  his  attention  is  first  fixed  on 
God's  commands  ;  no,  not  even  when  he 
hopes  that  he  has  found  in  Christ  pardon 
for  his  transgressions  of  them.  There  is 
sometimes  a  good  deal  of  joy  at  such  sea- 
sons — it  woul'd  be  strange  if  there  were 
not — but  there  is  much  of  natural  feeling 
in  this  joy,  and  it  is  seldom  abiding.  It  is 
not  what  he  himself,  in  a  later  period  of 
his  course,  would  call  peace.  True,  solid 
peace  is  generally  at  first  small ;  it  is 
hardly  perceptible  amid  the  fears  and  per- 
plexities with  which  the  soul  has  to  strug- 
gle ;  but  as  the  soul  goes  on  listening  to 
the  divine  commandments,  applying  to  the 
Saviour  for  pardon  and  to  the"  Comforter 
for  st-i'ength,  and  gradually  becoming 
moulded  more  and  more  into  the  divine 
image,  peace  flows  into  it  in  a  more  copious 
stream,  the  sources  of  peace  are  multiplied, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  the  soul's  capacity 
to  receive  and  hold  it  is  increased.  And 
all  this,  unless  God's  ways  are  forsaken, 
goes  on  to  the  last.  New  springs  of  con- 
solation burst  open  in  every  stage  of  our 
progress,  old  sources  of  comfort  become 
richer  and  sweeter ;  our  peace  conse- 
quently flows  deeper  and  deeper,  till  it 
ends  in  an  ocean  of  peace,  the  boundless, 
fathomless  ocean  of  everlasting  joy. 

We  have  now  gone  througji  the  text. 
There  are  two  points  clearly  established 
by  it. 

This  is  the  first — Ihcre  rs  no  true  peace 
of  mind  for  us,  without  a  hi<rh  reverence  for 
God's  commands.  There  is  no  peaceful 
enjoyment  of  the  gospsl,  without  a  holy 
regard  for  the  law. 

We  are  very  prone  to  set  these  two 
things  at  variance,  to  look  on  the  one  as 
opposed  to  the  other.  God  never  does  so. 
Justification  by  the  law,  he  tells  us  indeed, 
is  altogether  out  of  the  question.     A  crim- 


THE  DIVINE  COMiMANDMENTS  SOURCES  OF  PEACE. 


139 


inal  might  as  well  appeal  to  the  statute 
that  condemns  him.  for  a  pardon  or  a  re- 
ward. But  in  every  other  point  of  view, 
the  law  and  the  gospel  go  hand  in  hand. 
They  come  from  the  same  God  ;  they 
manifest,  though  not  in  an  equal  degree, 
the  same  goodness ;  they  aim  at  the  same 
merciful  end,  our  happiness  ;  they  both 
unite  one  with  the  other  in  effecting  it.  I 
will  not  say  that  neither  of  them  alone 
can  make  us  happy.  Some  of  you  feel 
however  that  the  law  cannot.  You  have 
a  wounded  conscience,  and  the  law  will 
not  heal  it.  You  have  a  troubled  soul,  and 
the  law  speaks  no  peace  to  it.  Now  this 
text  is  not  addressed  to  men  like  you.  You 
have  hearkened  to  God's  commandments, 
and  O  bless  him  every  day  you  live  that 
he  has  led  you  to  do  so  !  You  are  not  to 
forget  them,  but  you  are  not  to  look  to  them 
for  hope  and  consolation.  It  is  in  the  gos- 
pel, in  the  blood  and  righteousness  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  your  comfort  lies. 
The  lamentation  of  God  over  you,  if  he 
lamented  at  all,  would  be,  "  O  that  they 
would  hearken  to  my  promises  !  O  that 
they  would  receive  my  mercy  !  O  that 
they  would  rejoice  in  my  well-beloved 
Son !" 

Others  of  you  find  but  little  peace  in 
the  gospel.  It  does  not  satisfy,  perhaps 
it  disappoints  you.  The  joy  it  once 
gave  you  is  gone,  and  you  are  disquieted 
and  comfortless.  To  such  as  you,  God 
speaks  particularly  in  this  text.  You  want 
perhaps    encouragement   from  him  ;    you 


ing  us  to  the  snow  f.r  warmth,  or  into 
darkness  for  light.  But  God  is  wiser  ihaa 
we.  lie  knows  where  liappiness  lies  bet- 
ter than  we  know  ;  and  if  not,  lie  will  do 
all  things  in  his  own  way;  he  will  give 
us  nothing  except  we  get  on  the  grout)d 
whereon  he  has  appointed  us  to  stand. 
No  matter  what  that  ground  is,  how  appa- 
rently barren  and  desolate  and  unpromis- 
ing, there  we  must  go  if  we  would  have 
his  mercy,  and  there  we  must  remain  till 
his  mercy  comes.  In  this  case,  he  sends 
you  to  the  law  and  the  commandments. 
You  have  forsaken  them,  brethren,  yes, 
practically  forgotten  or  despised  them,  or 
you  would  not  be  what  you  are.  Tiiere 
is  something  wrong  in  your  heart;  some- 
thing wrong  perhaps  in  your  life  also ; 
and  that  is  the  hinderance  which  keeps  com- 
fort from  you.  You  may  not  think  so. 
You  may  be  ready  to  think  that  the  fault 
lies  elsewhere.  So  this  very  people  thought ; 
but  the  prophet  undeceived  them.  "  Be- 
hold," he  says  to  them,  "  the  Lord's  liand 
is  not  shortened,  that  it  cannot  save ;  nei- 
ther is  his  ear  heavy,  that  it  cannot  hear  ; 
but  your  iniquities  have  separated  between 
you  and  your  God,  and  your  sins  have  hid 
his  face  from  you." 

Tliis  then  is  one  truth  you  are  to  learn 
to-day,  that  you  must  lienor  the  law  in  or- 
der to  find  peace  in  the  gospel.  And  this 
is  the  other — no  matter  what  our  character 
or  state  may  be,  the  great  God  of  heaven  is 
full  of  conipassioii  towards  us.  We  find 
him   addressing   here  a   rebellious   people 


looking  for   peace  to 


your  hearts  from  some  promise,  or  from 
some  new  and  clearer  light  thrown  by  him 
on  some  privilege  of  his  gospel,  or  from 
some  fresh  assurance  vouchsafed  you  of 
your  special  interest  in  his  love.  But  not 
one  word  of  this  kind  does  this  text  contain. 
I,"  he  says  in  the  preceding  verse,  "  am 


again  into    speaking  to  them  of  his  despised  command- 


ments,  and  lamenting  and  mourning  ;  and 
why  ?  Because  his  authority  is  spurned 
and  his  name  dishonored  1  No  ;  because 
that  rebellious  people  are  comfortless; 
because  the  sinners  who  have  trampled  on 
his  commands,  have  lost  the  blessedness 
they  might   have  found   in   obeying   them. 


the  Lord  thv  Redeemer,  the^Ioly  one  of  I  His  authority  as  a  Sovereign   is  not  laid 
Israel.     I  am   the   Lord   thy  God,   which    aside,  he  still  sits  on  his  liirone ;  but  he 


teachcth  thee  to  profit,  which  leadeth  thee 
by  the  way  that  thou  shouldest'go."  And 
now  what  follows  ? 
bid  you  go,  that  you  may  once  a 
tain  peace  ?  In  that  which,  of  all  ways, 
seems  the  least  likely  to  restore  it  to  you  ; 
"  O  that  thou  hadst  hearkened  to  my  com- 
mandments !"  It  is  our  forgetfulness  of 
his  law,  he  tells  us,  that  keeps  peace  from 
us,  our  undervaluing  and  neglect  of  it.  It 
is  hard  to  believe  this.     It  seems  like  send- 


does  not  speak  as  a  Sovereign  ;  he  takes 
up  a  lamentation  over  tliem  as  a  father 
In  what  way  does  he  ;  over  a  disobedient  and  foolish  child  ;  "  O 
n  ob-  that  thou  hadst  hearkened  to  my  command- 
ments  !  How  happy  wouldst  thou  have 
been  !"  And  when  he  first  gave  his  Israel 
his  law,  he  used  language  concerning  them 
of  similar  import.  "  O  that  there  were 
such  an  heart  in  them  !"  he-  said,  and  said 
it  amid  the  thunders  of  Sinai  ;  "  thai  they 
would  fear  me  and  keep  all  my  conunand. 


140 


CHRIST   THE  HOPE  OF  GLORY. 


merits  always  ,"  and  still  for  the  same  rea- 
son— "  that  it  might  be  well  with  them  and 
with  their  children  for  ever."  His  own 
glory  seems  overlooked  by  him  in  his  de- 
sires for  his  people's  happiness.  And  what 
does  this  show  us  ?  That  even  in  our  de- 
partures from  him,  he  pities  us.  Polluted 
as  we  may  be,  and  dishonored  and  wound- 
ed, he  is  ready  to  take  us  again  to  his 
favor.  He  could  consume  us  in  a  mo- 
ment. All  heaven  would  glorify  his  just- 
ice, were  he  this  moment  to  destroy  us  for 
ever ;  but  his  thoughts  towards  us  are 
still  thoughts  of  peace  and  not  of  evil.  If 
we  are  willing  to  return,  he*is  willing  to 
receive  us,  as  willing  to  receive  us  and 
show  us  mercy,  as  he  was  at  first.  The 
same  way  to  him  yet  stands  open.  The 
same  fountain  for  sin  and  uncleanness  is 
within  our  reach.  "  Return,  O  backslid- 
ing Israel,"  is  still  his  call  to  us  ;  "  return 
unto  me,  for  I  have  redeemed  thee." 


SERMON  XXX. 

THE    FOURTH    SUNDAY    AFTER    EASTER. 

CHRIST  THE  HOPE  OF  GLORY. 

CoLossiANS  I.  27. — "  Christ   in  you,  the  hope  of 
glory." 

What  a  crowding  together  in  these  few 
words  of  high,  and  blessed  things  !  They 
form  part  only  of  a  sentence,  but  we  need 
"not  look  further.  There  is  enough  in  them 
for  the  longest  sermon  that  man  or  angel 
could  ever  preach. 

Here  is,  first,  glory ;  then,  the  hope  of 
glory  ;  then,  Christ  the  hope  of  glory  ;  and 
then,  to  crown  the  whole,  Christ  in  us,  the 
hope  of  glory.  O  may  the  great  King  of 
glory  lift  up  our  hearts  to  his  kingdom  and 
himself! 

I.  Here  is  glory.  It  is  another  word  for 
heaven.  But  why  call  heaven  by  a  name 
that  sounds  at  first  so  light  and  empty  ? 
There  are  two  reasons  to  be  given. 

One  is,  it  is  a  name  that  'Veil  sets  forth 
the  excellence  of  heaven. 

Glory  is  a  high  degree  of  praise  and 
admiration.  Earthly  glory  is  not  wortii 
the  having,  because  the  men  of  the  earth' 
do  not  estimate  things  according  to  their 
true  value.     They  often  praise  and  admire 


that  which  is  really  worthless.  But  sup 
pose  a  right  measure  to  be  taken  of  things, 
then,  it  is  clear,  glory  will  be  a  proof  of 
value.  Nothing  will  be  esteemed  glorious, 
which  is  not  of  transcendent  worth.  Com- 
mon excellence  may  claim  our  approba- 
tion, but  glory  is  a  higher  word,  and  to 
merit  that,  there  must  be  excellence  of 
the  highest  kind.  The  ancient  Jews  felt 
this  ;  the  same  word  in  their  language, 
that  is  used  for  glory,  signifies  also  weight 
and  substance.  When  therefore  the  apos- 
tle speaks  of  heaven  as  a  glorious  world, 
he  means  that  it  is  a  world  of  real,  solid 
good.  He  means  that  it  rises  far  above 
all  other  worlds  in  substantial  excellence  ; 
that  it  is  not  only  to  be  admired,  but  if  we 
weigh  it  with  the  whole  universe,  with  per- 
haps the  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand 
worlds  of  light  and  joy  which  are  moving 
round  the  throne  of  Jehovah,  it  transcends 
and  outweighs  them  all :  they  are  all  light- 
ness, mere  dust,  in  comparison  with  it. 
Hence  in  another  place,  with  this  very  idea 
evidently  in  his  mind,  he  calls  heaven  "  an 
exceeding  weight  of  glory." 

But  this  word  sets  forth  also  the  magnifi- 
cence  of  heaven. 

Mere  excellence,  however  great,  will  not 
of  itself  make  a  thing  glorious.  It  must  be 
excellence  which  is  known  and  seen.  The 
sun  is  at  all  times  a  splendid  object,  but  for 
men  to  discover  and  admire  its  glory,  it 
must  rise  up  in  a  cloudless  sky  and  blaze 
forth.  A  diamond  has  no  glory  while  lying 
buried  in  its  native  rock ;  we  begin  to 
praise  it,  when  it  is  brought  forth,  and  pol- 
ished, and  we  see  its  beauty.  And  so  here. 
The  glory  of  heaven  comes  from  the  ex- 
cellency that  is  in  heavenly  things,  discov- 
ering  itself.  The  Father  in  his  infinite 
majesty — Christ  in  his  grace  and  love — 
holiness  in  its  perfection  and  bcaut}^ — the 
angels  in  their  purity— the  saints  chosen  of 
God  and  precious,  laden  with  the  riches  of 
salvation,  and  shining  in  their  robes  of 
light ; — all  these  arc  hidden  from  us  here, 
or  half  hidden  ;  the  eye  of  faith  but  dimly 
discerns  them  through  clouds  and  distance  : 
but  there  is  no  distance,  there  are  no  clouds 
or  veils,  in  heaven.  Things  will  appear 
there  to  us  as  things  are,  in  all  their  perfec- 
tion and  excellence,  yes,  even  our  great 
Lord  himself.  "  Thine  eyes,"  says  Isaiah, 
"  shall  see  the  King  in  his  beauty."  "  We 
shall  see  him  as  he  is,"  says  John  ;  "  fact 
to  face,"  says  Paul. 


CHRIST  THE  HOPE  OF  GLORY. 


141 


Well  tlierefore  may  heaven  be  called  by 
this  emphatic  word,  '•<:lory."  It  is  trans- 
cendently  the  most  excellent  of  all  worlds, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  most  ma<rnificent. 
It  is  a  mine  of  the  richest  gold  all  laid  open 
and  exposed. 

II.  Let  us  look  now  at  a  second  thing  in 
the  text — the  hope  of  glory.  And  this 
brings  us  down  to  the  earth,  but  still  with 
heaven  in  our  sight. 

Next  to  glory  itself,  this  hope  of  glory  is 
the  most  blessed  thing  we  can  ever  have. 
Nothing  on  this  side  heaven  is  so  sweet  or 
joyful.  But  what  is  it  ?  There  is  a  hope, 
and  a  hope  of  heaven  too,  which  is  not  worth 
the  having.  We  read  in  scripture  of  a 
hope  that  perishes ;  of  a  hope  that  shall  be 
"cut  off,"  suddenly  ended;  of  a  hope  that 
is  like  a  spider's  web,  easily  torn  and  swept 
away  ;  and  of  another  hope  still  that  is  like 
"the  giving  up  of  the  ghost."  And  the 
hope,  brethren,  that  is  in  our  hearts,  may 
be  of  this  kind.  A  God  of  love  perhaps 
could  show  us  no  greater  mercy  than  to 
dash  it  this  moment  to  the  ground.  "  What," 
you  may  say,  "  send  us  to  our  homes  liope- 
less  ?"  I  answer.  Yes,  hopeless.  A  false 
hope  is  worse  than  none  at  all,  far  worse. 
There  may  be  mortification  and  pain  in 
parting  with  it,  but  what  is  there  in  keep- 
ing it  ?  Misery  and  death  everlasting. 
I\Iay  the  living  God  save  you  from  such  a 
curso  !  ^ 

But  how  may  a  true  and  blessed  hope  be 
distinguished  from  this  ?     By  three  marks. 

1.  It  comes  down  from  heaven. 

It  is  not  natural  to  us.  We  cannot  of 
ourselves,  by  any  power  that  we  possess, 
acquire  it.  No  fellow-creature  can  of  him- 
self reason  or  persuade  us  into  it.  It  is  the 
gift  of  a  heavenly  Spirit,  a  peculiar  work 
of  God  the  Holy  Ghost  in  the  heart.  And 
consequently  it  is  never  found  except  in  the 
renewed  heart.  No  unrenewed  man  can 
possibly  have  it,  for  this  reason — every  such 
man  is  without  those  things  whereby  the 
Holy  Spirit  works  and  produces  it.  It  is 
like  holiness  and  love,  the  fruit  of  faith  ;  of 
faith  in  God's  promises  made  to  a  world  of 
sinners  in  Christ  Jesus.  It  very  much  re- 
sembles faith,  resting  on  the  same  founda- 
tion and  exercising  itself  on  the  same  ob- 
jects ;  and  yet  it  differs  from  it.  Faith  be- 
lieves the  promise,  hope  looks  forward  to 
the  fulfilment  of  it.  "  There  is  a  world  of 
glory,"  says  faith,  "  for  pardoned  sinners, 
for  all  who  are  washed  and  cleansed  in  the 


blood  of  Christ."'  "  I  am  going  to  that 
world,"  says  hopt  ;  "that  glory  will  lx> 
mine."  Faitli  discovers  the  treasun-,  hope 
rejoices  in  the  expectation  of  galliL-riiig 
it  up. 

2.  Hence  take  another  mark  of  it — li 
really  Ionics  for  and  hok.sfor  licairn. 

You  often  hear  of  a  dead  fiiiih,  brethren  ; 
but  what  more  common  than  a  dead  hope  ? 
A  worldly  man's  hope  of  heaven  is  in  most 
cases  no  hope  at  all.  It  does  nothing  in 
his  mind.  Often  for  days  and  weeks  to- 
gether, he  is  not  even  conscious  that  it  is 
there  ;  he  cannot  be,  for  it  is  not  there  ;  it 
does  not  exist.  At  the  best,  it  is  a  notion, 
and  nothing  more.  But  a  godly  man's  hope 
is  an  active  thing.  It  is  really  hope  ;  a 
something  within  him,  which  contemplates, 
and  desires,  and  anticipates,  the  heaven  be- 
fore him.  You  know  how  hope  works 
within  you,'  when  you  are  looking  forward 
to  a  meeting  with  some  dear  child  or  friend  ; 
it  will  work  in  just  the  same  manner  when 
it  exists  within  you  as  a  hope  of  glory.  It 
is  an  "  earnest  expectation,"  St.  Paul  says; 
and  the  word  he  uses,  signifies  a  stretching 
forward  of  the  head,  an  anxious  etfort  to 
discern  some  wished  for  object.  He  seems 
to  have  in  his  thoughts  some  shipwrecked 
mariner  looking  through  mist  and  storm  for 
the  coming  life-boat ;  or  some  other  mari- 
ner, wearied  with  the  ocean's  tossings,  striv- 
ing  to  descry  in  the  distance  his  native  land. 

3.  And  then  this  hope  has  another  mark 
— it  carries  the  soul  on  towards  heaven,  and 
makes  it  meet  for  it. 

Of  all  the  graces  of  the  Spirit,  we  expect 
perhaps  the  least  spiritual  good  from  this. 
We  regard  it  as  a  sweetener  of  our  Chris- 
tian  life,  rather  than  as  any  very  useful  or 
vital  part  of  it.  But  St.  Paul  frequently 
couples  it  with  faith  and  love,  and  repre- 
sents it  as  equally  important.  There  is 
scarcely  setting  any  bounds  to  the  view  he 
gives  us  of  its  importance.  It  is  the  helmet, 
he  says,  by  which  we  bear  some  of  the 
worst  blows  of  Satan  in  the  day  of  conflict ; 
it  is  the  soul's  anchor,  by  which  it  rides 
safely  and  peacefully  amid  storms  and 
perils.  We  rejoice  in  hope,  when  perhaps 
we  have  nothing  else  to  rejoice  in  ;  and 
when  at  last  we  are  saved,  it  is  hope,  we 
are  told,  that  saves  us.  Take  away  hope 
from  the  believer,  you  have  made  him  not 
only  a  miserable  man,  but  one  who  soon 
loses,  in  his  troubles  and  temptations,  all 
resemblance  to  a  child  of  God.     He  may 


142 


CHRIST  THE  HOPE  OF  GLORY. 


be  in  the  way  to  heaven,  but  the  wei!2;ht  of 
a  fcatlier  is  too  much  for  him,  it  hears  him 
down ;  and  a  mere  whisper  from  Satan  or 
ihe  world  will  turn  him  aside. 

I  said  too,  that  this  grace  makes  the  soul 
meet  for  heaven.  This  is  its  highest  excel- 
lency— it  is  a  purifying  grace.  It  brings 
the  soul  more  than  any  other  within  tlie 
lioly  Influence  of  heavenly  things,  for  it 
brings  it  nearer  to  them.  Hence  St.  John 
says,  "  Every  man  that  hath  this  hope  in 
him,  purifieth  himself."  And  mark  his 
language.  He  says  not,  such  a  man  is 
willing  for  God  to  purify  him  ;  he  is  willing 
to  be  taught  and  disciplined  and  afliicted, 
to  go  through  any  trials  however  distress- 
ing, or  into  any  furnace  however  hot,  that 
he  may  be  cleansed  and  refined  ; — he  says, 
he  purifieth  himself;  he  is  a  man  aiming 
at  holiness  ;  working,  laboring  for  it ;  and 
the  highest  degree  and  measure  of  holiness 
— '•  he  purifieth  himself  even  as  God  is 
pure."  This  is  indeed  a  hope  worth  the 
having — a  hope  that  not  only  comes  from 
heaven  and  looks  forward  to  heaven,  but 
makes  us  heavenly.  The  apostle  calls  it  a 
"  blessed  hope,"  and  every  one  of  you,  who 
knows  any  thing  of  it,  feels  it  to  be  blessed. 
"  Lord,"  you  say,  "  give  me  more  and 
more  of  this  heavenly  grace  day  by  day. 
Thou  art  the  God  of  hope.  O  fill  me  with 
all  joy  and  peace  in  believing,  that  I  may 
abound  in  hope,  through  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost." 

III.  Here  is  a  third  object  in  the  text — 
Christ.  And  he,  observe,  is  described  in  it 
as  connected,  not  with  glory,  but  with  hope, 
the  hope  of  glory.  The  apostle  calls  him 
this  hope  itself.  And  his  meaning  is,  that 
he  is  the  foundation  of  our  hope  ;  that  all 
true  hope  of  heaven  rests  on  him  ;  that 
take  him  away,  the  man  whose  heart  is  full 
to  overflowing  with  this  hope,  would  have 
within  him  no  hope  at  all.  He  identifies 
Christ  with  liopc,  just  as  old  Simeon  in  the 
temple  identifies  him  with  salvation,  calling 
him,  not  a  Saviour,  but  salvation  itself.  But 
why  is  this? 

1.   Christ  has  purchased  glory  for  us. 

It  is  not  our  birthright.  We  have  natu- 
rally no  more  claim  to  it  than  the  beggar 
has  to  a  monarch's  crown.  Nay,  as  sin- 
ners and  rebels  against  God,  we  were  fur- 
ther from  it  than  any  beggar  can  be  from 
any  crown.  We  were  in  the  condition  of 
criminals,  convicted,  sentenced,  and  about 
to  be  cut  ofF.     But  the  Lord  Jesus  comes  in 


between  his  people  and  offended  justice. 
By  the  shedding  of  his  own  precious  blood, 
he  purchases  a  pardon  for  theni,  and  by  hij, 
spotless  obedience  in  their  form  and  stead, 
heaven.  He  is  our  hope  because,  with  the 
one  hand,  he  has  paid  for  us  the  ransom 
which  delivers  us  from  condemnation,  and, 
with  the  other,  laid  down  the  price  which 
entitles  us  to  glory. 

2.  And  he  has  actually  taken  possession 
of  glory  for  us.  As  a  dying  Saviour  he 
purchased  it,  and  then,  rising  again,  he 
went  up  to  heaven,  and  said,  as  he  enter- 
ed it,  of  all  its  riches  and  all  its  splendors, 
"  These  are  mine  ;  mine  now,  not  as  the 
great  Lord  of  all  things,  but  mine  as  the 
triumphant  Son  of  Man.  They  are  mine 
as  the  Head  of  my  ransomed  church. 
Many  of  my  people  have  yet  to  suffer  in 
that  world  of  sin  ;  many  more  are  as  yet 
unborn  ;  ages  will  pass  away  before  these 
places  in  my  Father's  house,  and  these 
thrones,  are  all  filled  ;  but  there — I  write 
my  name  and  my  people's  name  on  these 
places  and  thrones,  and  they  shall  be  as 
surely  theirs,  as  my  name  is  holy  or  my 
power  vast."  This  apostle  accordingly 
connects  the  believer's  hope  with  his 
Lord's  ascension.  It  is  "the  anchor  of 
his  soul,"  he  says,  "  which  entereth  into 
that  within  the  veil ;"  that  is,  into  the  un- 
seen and  holy  heavens,  "  whither,"  he 
adds,  "  the  .Forerunner  is  for  us  entered, 
even  Jesus."  His  hope  goes  forward  into 
heaven,  because  there  his  great  High  Priest 
is  gone. 

3.  Christ  has  pledged  himself  to  bring  be- 
lievers in  him  to  glory  ;  tlierefore  also  he  is 
the  hope  of  glory  to  them. 

A  father  may  purchase  a  splendid  es- 
tate for  his  son  and  secure  it  to  him,  but  if 
that  estate  is  in  some  distant  land,  and 
that  son  a  poor  miserable  wanderer,  with- 
out the  means  of  traversing  the  seas  and 
continents  which  lie  between  him  and  his 
inheritance,  it  will  do  him  no  good  ;  his 
father's  love  and  care  will  both  be  wasted. 
And  our  condition,  as  we  think  of  heaven, 
often  appears  to  us  too  much  like  this. 

A  very  little  real  faith  in  Ciirist  makes 
a  man  feel  sure  that  his  blood  has  opened 
heaven  for  sinners,  and  that  he  has  power 
and  grace  enough  in  heaven  to  admit  into 
it  whomsoever  he  pleases ;  but  what  does 
Christ  say  ?  "  He  that  endureth  to  the 
end,  shall  be  saved  ;"  and  that  endurance, 
that   steadfast  perseverance — O  how    the 


CHRIST  THE  HOPE  OF  GLORY. 


143 


soul  is  sometimes  cast  down  as  it  thinks  of 
it!  "  We  never  can  emlure  to  the  end," 
we  say.  "  We  are  falling  and  sinking 
already.  Were  glory  near  us,  we  might 
find  strength  to  reach  it,  hut  it  is  far  away. 
Deserts  and  mountains,  labors  and  suffer- 
ings, snares  and  enemies,  lie  between  us 
and  it.  We  shall  never  see  it."  But 
here  again  comes  forward  the  great  Sa- 
viour. "  Look  at  that  glorious  heaven," 
he  says.  "  I  have  purcliased  it  for  you, 
and  hold  it  for  you  ;  it  is  yours.  And  now 
look  at  yourselves.  I  have  purchased  you 
for  heaven  ;  nay  rather,  for  myself.  And 
will  I  lose  you  ?  Never.  AH  that  se- 
cures heaven  to  you,  secures  you  to  me. 
My  hold  on  you  is  as  firm,  as  my  hold  on 
my  crown  and  throne.  Are  you  mine  ? 
Then  you  shall  be  kept  by  my  power 
through  faith  unto  salvation.  Are  you  the 
sheep  of  my  fold  ?  my  willing  and  obedi- 
ent, though  weak  and  defenceless  sheep  ? 
Then  my  sheep  shall  never  perish,  neither 
shall  any  one  pluck  them  out  of  my  hand. 
Fear  not,  little  flock,  it  is  your  Father's 
good  pleasure,  and  it  is  my  steadfast  deter- 
mination, to  give  you  the  kingdom.  Yet  a 
little  longer  I  will  guide  you  with  my 
counsel,  and  afterwards  receive  you  to 
glory." 

IV.  "  But  all  this,"  some  of  you  may 
say,  "  is  foreign  to  the  purport  of  the  text. 
It  is  not  Christ  on  the  cross  nor  Christ  in 
heaven,  that  is  said  to  be  the  hope  of  glory 
to  us,  but  Christ  in  us."  And  in  turning 
to  this  our  last  point,  I  would  observe  that 
we  must  not  so  interpret  the  apostle's 
words,  as  to  make  them  contradict  any 
thing  you  have  already  heard.  If  we 
speak  of  the  foundation  or  ground  of  a 
sinner's  hope  before  God,  then  it  is  nothing 


spiritual  way,  into  our  souls,  as  no  eartlily 
friend  can  do,  living,  dwelling  wiihin  us, 
making  us  as  it  were  his  temple,  and  lev. 
ing  to  do  so.  And  to  us  abiding  in  us,  he 
becomes  our  hope,  because  his  being  in  us 
is  the  best  evidence  we  can  iiave  of  our 
being  his. 

Picture  to  yourselves  a  house,  and  a 
miserable  one,  gloomy,  filthy,  and  com- 
fortless within,  and  falling  to  decay.  Let 
a  stranger  enter  that  house,  he  may  act  in 
two  ways.  He  may  secrete  himself  in  some 
dark  corner  within  its  wretched  walls,  and, 
watching  his  opportunity,  do  much  mis- 
chief without  its  inhabitants  even  knowing 
he  is  there.  Thus  Satan  is  acting  in  the 
hearts  of  thousands,  who  little  think  he  is 
near  them,  much  less  within  them. 

But  suppose  that  stranger  to  be  a  man 
of  another  character,  and  to  act  in  another 
way.  Suppose  him,  as  soon  as  he  goes  in, 
to  throw  open  the  windows  of  that  house, 
and  to  let  in  the  air  and  light.  See  him 
then  discovering  himself  to  the  inhabitant 
of  it.  "  I  am  come  to  live  with  you,"  he 
saj's,  "if  you  will  let  me,  as  your  friend 
and  brother.  I  will  do  you  much  good. 
But  this  filthiness  I  cannot  bear,  nor  this 
disorder.  I  am  a  happy  being  too,  and 
wherever  I  am,  I  love  comfort,  and  cheer- 
fulness, and  joy."  And  then  he  sets  about 
cleansing  that  house,  putting  it  in  order, 
adorning  and  repairing  it,  strengthening  its 
walls  and  closing  up  every  fissure  in  them, 
so  that  when  the  wintry  storm  beats,  no 
wind  or  rain  can  enter  it,  and  nothing  shake 
it.  And  even  while  he  is  doing  this,  he 
goes  about  enlivening  it  with  his  presence, 
and  making  the  voice  of  joy  and  praise  to 
be  heard  from  day  to  day  in  every  room  of 
it.     O,  you   would   say,  what  an   altered 


at  all  within  him.  It  is  Christ  without  |  house  ?  What  a  blessed  guest  has  that 
him.     It  is  God's  everlasting  Son,  leaving  '  man  proved  i'^  it ! 

his  throne,  lying  in  a  manger,  dying  on  a  j  Now  how  does  the  Lord  Jesus  act  when 
cross,  reigning  in  heaven.  Here  rests  he  enters  a  sinner's  heart  ?  Exactly  thus, 
every  godly  man's  hope,  hero  and  no-  j  lie  does  not,  like  Satan,  hide  himself  in  it; 
where  else  ;  and  every  godly  man  will  but  he  reveals  himself  to  the  sinner,  and 
say,  "  Here  let  it  rest.  6  my  incarnate,  works  within  him,  and  changes  his  once 
my  dying,  living  Lord,  be  thou  more  and  |  unclean,  dreary  heart,  and  makes  him 
more  my  trust  and  stay."  But  still  the  a  holy  and  happy  man.  "Behold,"  ho 
apostle  says,  "Christ  in  you,  the  hope  of  says,  "I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock, 
glory."     What  does  he  mean  ?  If  any  man   hear  my  voice  and  open  the 

By  his  being  in  us,  he  means  more  than  |  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup 
we  can  tell;  The  expression  implies,  not  '■  with  him,  and  he  with  me."  "  I  will  love 
only  that  Christ  draws  near  to  us,  coming  |  him,  and  will  manifest  myself  to  him." 
to  our  s:(I(>  as  a  friend  or  companion  might  "  Then,"  he  says  again,  "  will  I  sprinkle 
do;  but  that  he  actually  enters,   in  some   clean   water    upon    you,   and  ye  shall   be 


144 


CHRIST  THE  HOPE  OF  GLORY. 


clean  ;  from  all  your  filthiness  and  from 
all  your  idols,  will  I  cleanse  you."  It  is 
natural  then  for  such  a  man  to  speak  of 
Christ  within  him  as  his  hope  of  glory. 
"I  know  he  is  here,"  he  says,  "for  a 
change  has  been  wrought  here,  that  none 
but  he  could  work.  lie  has  softened  a 
heart  that  was  hard  as  iron  ;  he  has  puri- 
fied a  soul  that  was  nothing  but  unclean- 
ness ;  he  has  put  in  order  a  mind  that  was 
all  confusion  ;  and,  blessed  be  his  name  ! 
he  has  brought  peace  to  a  breast  which 
never  knew  real  peace  before.  And  if  he 
has  done  all  this  for  me,  am  I  not  his  ?  If 
he  has  thus  taken  possession  of  me  as  his 
own,  am  I  not  his  own  ?  He  deals  thus 
with  none  but  his  redeemed,  and  surely  if 
he  deals  thus  with  me,  I  am  among  his 
redeemed.  Yes,  vile  as  I  am,  Christ  liv- 
eth  in  me,  and  while  he  does  live  there, 
transforming  and  sustaining  me,  I  may 
and  I  will  call  him  my  Saviour.  I  will 
hope  to  see  his  face  in  the  heavens,  and  to 
share  his  joy." 

And  this,  brethren,  I  conceive,  is  the 
apostle's  meaning.  I  say  again,  the  work 
or  presence  of  Christ  within  us  is  not  the 
foundation  of  our  hope.  If  we  at  any  time 
make  it  such,  our  hope  languishes ;  we  are 
soon  taught  by  the  clouds  that  come  over 
us,  that  something  is  wrong ;  but  though 
not  the  foundation  of  our  hope,  it  is  a  proof 
that  our  hope  is  resting  on  a  good  founda- 
tion, and  it  thus  strengthens  and  animates 
that  hope  itself.  Christ  within  us  is  our 
hope  of  glory,  because  he  thus  discovers  to 
us  that  we  are  in  the  way  to  glory.  Be- 
sides, he  clears  the  heart  he  inhabits  of  all 
things  which  tend  to  depress  and  cloud  its 
hopes  ;  keeping  off  or  beating  back  our 
spiritual  enemies  ;  subduing  our  corrup- 
tions; removing  the  darkness  or  prejudice 
tliat  hinders  us  from  receiving  the  great 
mysteries  of  his  gospel  ;  drawing  partially 
aside  the  veil  tliat  conceals  heavenly  things 
from  us,  enabling  the  soul  to  realize  and 
almost  at  times  to  discern  and  grasp  them. 
There  is  no  saying  what  Christ  in  the 
heart  can  do  in  the  heart.  He  is  the  glory 
of  heaven,  and  had  the  apostle  called  him 
glory  in  us,  instead  of  the  hope  of  it,  he 
would  not  have  said  too  much.  There 
are  some  of  you  who  would  have  answered 


again,  "  This  also  is  true.  Wherever  my 
blessed  Saviour  comes,  he  makes  a  heaven. 
What  must  it  be  to  be  with  him  where 
he  is,  and  behold  his  glory  !"  O  wnat  a  - 
happy  man  is  the  Christian  !  at  least,  how 
happy  might  he  be !  With  such  a  pros- 
pect before  him,  and  such  a  hope  withm 
him — a  hope  resting  on  so  glorious  a  foun- 
dation, Christ  the  Rock  of  ages;  ana  prov- 
ed to  be  a  good  hope  by  so  glorious  a  test, 
Christ  dwelling  in  his  soul — if  this  cannot 
make  a  man  happy,  what  can  ? 

The  best  use  you  can  make  of  all  you 
have  now  heard,  is  to  ask  yourselves,  and 
to  ask  it  seriously,  on  what  your  hope  of 
glory  is  built.  Most  of  you  hope  for  heaven 
when  you  die,  but  it  is  mournful  to  think 
how  many  there  are  among  you,  who 
have  no  reason  to  give  why  you  hope  for 
it ;  or  if  you  have  a  reason,  how  different 
it  is  from  that  which  we  find  here  !  You 
talk  of  your  kind  hearts  and  blameless 
and  useful  lives ;  but  what  says  this  text 
and  the  whole  Bible  ?  "  Christ  the  hope 
of  glory."  Every  thing  short  of  Christ  is 
a  refuge  of  lies.  It  will  deceive  the  sou^ 
for  a  time  with  the  prospect  of  safety,  but 
when  the  great  storm  comes,  it  will  shiver 
to  pieces,  and  leave  the  soul  without  a 
shelter  or  home.  And  then  again  the  hope 
that  others  of  you  speak  of,  that  rests  on 
what  you  call  the  merciful  nature  of  Je- 
hovah— a  hope  which  leads  you  to  say,  in 
opposition  alike  to  all  scripture  and  all  ex- 
perience, "  God  is  too  good  to  punish  and 
destroy" — why,  brethren,  it  is  a  hope  which 
some  of  the  very  worst  of  men  cherish  ; 
men  of  whom  you  yourselves  would  say, 
there  can  be  no  hope  for  them.  Christ  in 
the  soul  needful  for  it?  It  Avill  live  in  the 
soul  from  which  Christ  is  tlie  farthest 
away,  amid  sins  without  number  and  pol- 
lutions  the  most  vile.  It  is  another  delu- 
sion. It  is  worse  ;  it  is  a  daring  presump- 
tion, and  it  will  end  in  destruction.  O  for 
that  hope  which  begins  witli  Christ  and 
ends  with  Clu'ist ;  which  looks  to  his  cross 
and  throne  for  heaven,  and  looks  to  his 
work  in  the  soul  for  the  evidence  of  its 
own  soundness  and  reality  !  Such  a  hope 
comes  from  God  and  leads  to  God.  It  is  a 
hope  of  which  we  shall  never  be  ashamed, 
world  without  end. 


THE  BLIND  LED. 


145 


SERMON  XXXI. 


IHE    FIFTH    SUNDAY    AFTER    EASTER. 
THE  BLIND  LED. 

le.vnii  xi.ii.  IG. — "  /  will  britiir  the  blind  by  a 
any  thnt  they  kueio  not ;  I  will  lend  them  in 
jKiths  that  they  have  not  known.  I  will  make 
darkness  light  before  them,  and  crooked  things 
straight.  These  things  will  I  do  unto  them, 
and  not  forsake  them," 

The  ways  of  the  Lord  are  from  everlast- 
ing. Ages  before  his  people  existed,  all 
bis  plans  concerning  them  were  determined 
on.  It  was  settled  once  for  all  in  his  un- 
changeable mind,  both  what  he  would  do 
for  them  and  how  he  would  do  it.  With 
tiie  future  thus  arranged  before  him,  it  is  no 
wonder  that  we  find  him  frequently  speak- 
ing to  us  in  his  word  of  his  purposes  in  it. 
Tiiey  are  glorious  purposes,  ever  present 
to  his  mind,  occupying  and  delighting  it, 
and  they  seem  to  come  as  naturally  from 
him  in  holy  scripture,  as  any  delightful 
plans  of  our  own  would  come  from  us  in 
our  converse  one  with  another. 

In  this  chapter,  he  tells  us  of  his  deter- 
mination to  bring  the  Gentiles  to  the  know- 
ledge of  himself,  and,  in  this  verse,  he  seems 
to  refer  to  their  new  and  wondering  feel- 
ings while  he  is  doing  this.  He  describes 
himself  as  leading  them  along  a  dark,  un- 
known, perplexing  road  into  light  and  bright- 
ness. '  But  w^e  may  at  once  put  these  Gen- 
tiles aside,  or  rather  we  may  regard  our- 
selves as  included  among  them.  Here  is  a 
description  of  the  dealings  of  the  eternal 
God  with  every  one  whom  he  is  leading  to 
his  kingdom.  Are  we  journeying  to  a  dis- 
tant heaven,  brethren,  or  wishing  to  journey 
there  ?  Then  here  is  an  account  of  our 
road,  and  of  what  we  must  look  for  in  it 
as  we  pass  along. 

Taking  the  words  as  they  stand,  we  may 
notice  in  them, 

I.  Our  glorious  Leader.  "I  will  bring 
them,"  the  Lord  says,  "  I  will  lead  them." 
In  other  places  he  tells  us  he  has  prepared  a 
kingdom  for  us ;  here  he  tells  us  he  will  con- 
duct us  to  it.  But  he  does  not  accomplish 
this  in  his  own  person.  In  the  beginning  of 
this  chapter,  he  introduces  his  dear  Son  to 
us  as  his  servant,  chosen  by  him  to  bring 
to  pass  all  his  merciful  designs  concerning 
us.  That  dear  Son,  therefore,  is  become 
to  us,  in  his  Father's  stead,  a  Leader  and 
Guide.  "  Behold,  I  have  given  him,"  the 
19 


Lord  says  elsewhere,  "  for  a  witness  to  the 
people,  a  Leader  and  Commander  to  the 
people  ;"  and  St.  Paul,  when  speaking  of 
God  as  bringing  his  many  sons  unto  glory, 
places  immediately  the  Lord  Jesus  at  their 
head  in  their  way  to  glory,  calling  him 
'•the  Cajitain  of  their  salvation,"  at  once 
their  Saviour,  their  Ruler,  and  their  Guide. 
Here  is  another  proof  then  that  Christ's 
appointed  work  was  not  ended  when  he  had 
otfered  himself  for  our  sins.  That  was  the 
beginning,  rather  than  the  end,  of  it.  We 
are  captives  in  a  foreign  land  ;  Christ  was 
not  only  to  pay  our  ransom  for  us,  but  to 
take  us  home  when  he  had  ransomed  us. 
We  are  prisoners  sitting,  the  seventh  verse 
says,  in  darkness  in  the  prison-house  ;  he 
is  not  only  to  conle  and  throw  open  our 
prison-doors,  bring  us  into  the  cheerful 
light,  and  set  us  free  ;  he  is  to  take  us  by 
the  hand  when  we  are  free,  and  to  guide  us 
by  the  right  way  to  a  city  prepared  for  us. 
And  it  is  a  pleasant  thought,  brethren,  that 
he  who  redeemed  us,  ke^'ps  us ;  that  he 
who  died  for  us,  lives  for  us  ;  that  he  who 
rescues  us  from  the  misery  of  our  fall, 
never  leaves  us  till  our  whole  salvation  is 
completed  ;  never  lets  one  of  us  go,  till 
with  his  own  right  hand  he  has  placed  us 
out  of  the  reach  of  all  misery  and  all  dan- 
ger, in  his  own  safe  world  of  light  and  joy. 

II.  We  may  look  next  at  those  whom  the 
Lord  is  leading. 

"  I  will  bring  the  blind,"  he  says;  and 
this  is  the  only  description  he  here  gives 
us  of  them.  He  means,  you  may  think, 
those  who  were  once  blind,  and  whose  eyes, 
according  to  the  seventli  verse,  he  has  now 
opened.  But  perhaps  he  means  that  they 
are  blind  still,  blind  even  while  he  is  lead- 
ing  them,  ignorant  and  blind  even  when 
brought  by  Christ's  hand  into  the  way  to 
his  kingdom. 

Our  own  feelings  correspond  with  this. 
If  we  look  backward  at  what  we  were,  we 
bless  God  that  whereas  we  were  once  blind, 
now  we  see.  We  bless  him  for  having 
opened  our  understandings,  and  taught  us 
many  things  of  which  we  were  formerly  as 
ignorant  as  the  very  stones.  But  when  we 
turn  away  from  the  past,  and  look  at  our- 
selves only  as  we  now  are,  "  What  have  wo 
learned  ?"  we  say  ;  "  what  do  we  know  ?" 
We  often  feel  that  we  know  nothing ;  and 
worse  than  this,  that  we  are  almost  inca- 
pable of  being  taught  any  thing  ;  senseless 
as  well    as  ignorant ;    like   scholars  who 


146 


THE  BLIND  LED. 


have  much  to  learn,  and  yet  so  impenetra- 
bly dull  that  they  can  learn  nothing.  Those 
whom  the  Lord  is  leading,  are  in  their  own 
esteem  blind.  They  are  men  who  have 
discovered  that  they  cannot  guide  them- 
selves;  "that  the  way  of  man  is  not  in 
himself,"  and  never  will  be  in  himself; 
that  place  him  where  you  will  on  the  road 
to  heaven,  he  is  as  incapable  of  finding  his 
way  along  it  as  he  was  of  entering  it  at 
first.  He  is  a  blind  man  still,  and  leave 
him  to  himself,  after  all  his  experience,  he 
will  strike  into  some  wandering  path,  and 
never  set  foot  in  his  Father's  kingdom. 

III.  We  have  a  description  of  the  road 
along  which  the  Lord  is  leading  us.  He 
speaks  of  it  both  as  new  to  us,  and  also  as 
dark  or  mysterious. 

It  is  7iew  to  us.  "  I  will  bring  the  blind 
by  a  way  that  they  knew  not ;  I  will  lead 
them  in  paths  that  they  have  not  known" — 
paths  which  they  have  never  trodden  in 
before,  and  with  which  they  are  altogether 
unacquainted.  And  this,  you  perceive,  adds 
to  their  difficulties.  A  blind  man  may  do 
very  well,  may  get  on,  in  a  road  he  knows, 
but  these  blind  men  are  in  a  road  that  is 
perfectly  strange  to  them. 

And  here  again,  brethren,  our  feelings 
are  met.  They  who  are  really  setting  out 
for  heaven,  are  often  spoken  of  in  scripture 
as  new  creatures,  and  they  soon  discover 
that  they  are  such.  A  great  change  has 
taken  place  within  them,  in  their  judgments, 
tastes,  inclinations,  feelings.  But  besides 
this,  they  see'm  to  themselves  to  have  enter- 
ed a  new  world.  They  are  becoming 
acquainted  with  things,  the  very  existence 
of  which  was  before  unknown  to  them,  and 
are  passing  through  nsuch,  of  which  till 
now  tiiey  had  no  conccipition.  Real  sorrow 
for  sin  and  real  humiliation  before  God  on 
account  of  it  ;  a  real  dread  of  his  wrath 
and  a  real  desire  of  his  favor  ;  the  diffi- 
culty, the  conflict  the  soul  knows  before  it 
■can  wholly  cast  itself  on  its  Saviour,  and 
when  it  has  done  this,  the  propensity  within 
it  to  cleave  again  to  itself  and  detach  itself 
from  that  Saviour;  a  longing  to  do  his  will 
and  live  to  his  glory,  and  yet  a  feeling 
within  that  it  cannot  do  his  will,  that  it 
might  as  well  attempt  to  lift  up  a  mountain 
from  the  earth  as  live  to  his  glory — to  all 
these  the  traveller  to  Zion  was  once  an 
entire  stranger  ;  he  is  now  one  by  one  be- 
coming acquainted  with  them  all.  He  feels, 
I  may  say  again,  a  new  creature  in  a  new 


world.    "  Old  things  are  passed  away.    B© 
hold,  all  things  are  become  new." 

And  it  does  not  much  alter  the  case  if 
he  has  heard  a  good  deal  of  these  things 
before  he  experiences  them.  "  Tiie  hear- 
ing of  the  ear"  is  a  totally  different  thing 
from-  the  experience  of  the  heart.  The 
theory  of  the  Christian  life  is  very  much 
like  the  science  of  optics.  A  blind  man 
may  learn  that  science  ;  nay,  teach  it,  and 
teach  it  well;  but  give  such  a  man  his 
sight,  the  world  he  beholds  around  him,  is 
a  new  world  to  him.  And  so  is  real,  prac- 
tical Christianity  new  to  every  man  who 
for  the  first  time  feels  its  power.  "  I  had 
heard  of  all  this,"  he  says,  "  I  thought  I 
knew  it,  but  I  did  but  dream.  I  was  as 
ignorant  of  it  as  that  blind  philosopher  is 
of  daylight." 

And  the  road  in  which  the  Lord  is  lead- 
ing us,  is  dark  also,  mysterious. 

Every  road  that  is  new  to  us,  is  not  of 
necessity  this.  Though  we  have  never 
travelled  it,  it  may  be  much  such  a  road  as 
we  had  anticipated,  and  may  clearly  be 
going  in  the  direction  whither  it  professes 
to  take  us.  But  the  way  spoken  of  in  the 
text,  has  darkness,  it  is  intimated,  hanging 
over  it ;  and  it  is  a  circuitous,  winding 
way  :  it  seems  at  times  to  be  leading  us 
from  heaven  rather  than  to  it.  This  height- 
ens still  further  the  picture.  Tliere  is  not 
only  our  own  ignorance,  our  own  blindness, 
to  make  our  Christian  course  trying  to  us ; 
it  is  rendered  still  more  trying  to  us  by  its 
own  character.  Could  we  see  with  the 
greatest  clearness,  we  should  still  find  our- 
selves often  involved  in  obscurity  and  mys- 
tery. 

And  it  is  a  great  point  gained  at  the 
commencement  of  the  Cliristian  life,  to  an- 
ticipate this.  Scripture  leads  us  to  do  so. 
It  speaks  of  God  as  a  God  who  hides  him- 
self, purposely  hides  himself,  and  this  in 
the  character  of  our  Redeemer.  "  Verily," 
the  prophet  says,  "  thou  art  a  God  that 
hidest  thyself,  0  God  of  Israel,  the  Saviour." 
Referring  to  the  passing  of  Israel  over  the 
desert,  "  Thou  leddest  thy  people  like  a 
flock,"  says  the  psalmist ;  but  what  has  he 
said  immediately  before  ?  "  Thy  way," 
thy  way  even  while  leading  them,  "  is  in 
the  sea,  and  thy  path  in  the  great  waters, 
and  thy  footsteps  are  not  known." 

And  such  of  you,  brethren,  as  are  .'cally 
journeying  heavenward,  have  found  this 
also  to  be  true.     You  meet  in  your  way 


THE  BUM)  LED. 


4? 


not  only  with  much  that  is  new  to  you,  but 
with  much  that  is  perplexing. 

There  are  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel — 
you  would  understand  and  you  wouhl  be- 
lieve them  all,  but  great,  you  say,  is  the 
mystery  of  some  of  them.  They  seem  past 
your  comprehension  ;  and  if  not  so,  past 
your  belief. 

And  then  there  is  the  providence  of  God, 
his  dealings  with  you — much  here  again  is 
darkness.  You  know  not  at  times  how  he 
is  dealing  with  you,  nor  what  he  is  doing. 
Tilings  turn  out  so  differently  from  your 
expectations,  that  you  are  for  a  season  per- 
fectly bewildered,  and  scarcely  know  where 
you  are  nor  whither  you  are  going,  whether 
in  fact  you  are  in  God's  \\ays  or  far  from 
them,  the  sheep  of  his  hand  under  his  guid- 
ance, or  the  lost,  wandering  sheep  of  the 
mountains. 

I  might  .speak  too  of  the  outward  afilic- 
tions  you  meet  with.  These  often  wear  a 
very  perplexing  and  mysterious  aspect. 
You  looked  for  afflictions,  but  you  looked 
for  them  under  certain  circumstances  and 
of  a  certain  character,  and  to  accomplish 
this  or  that  particular  end  ;  but  these  are 
come  upon  you  under  circumstances  en- 
tirely different,  and  are  of  a  most  unlocked 
for  character,  and  do  not  appear  likely  to 
answer  any  one  good  purpose  or  end.  The 
reason  for  which  they  are  sent,  the  course 
they  are  to  take,  how  you  are  to  find 
strength  to  bear  them,  in  what  way  you  are 
at  last  to  be  relieved  from  them — you  inquire 
and  inquire  again  into  these  matters,  and 
an  impenetrable  darkness  hangs  over  them ; 
you  can  get  no  answer  to  your  inquiries, 
and  find  at  last  it  is  useless  to  seek  one. 

And  turn  to  your  inward  feelings.  It  is 
much  the  same  there,  or  rather  you  find 
more  to  perplex  you  there  than  anywhere. 
You  seldom  feel  as  you  thought  you  should, 
or  as  you  imagine  it  would  be  well  for  you 
to  feel.  You  are  sometimes  peaceful,  and 
very  peaceful,  when  you  expected  to  be 
dis(]uieted ;  and  then  again  youi*  soul  is 
almost  in  a  tumult,  when  you  looked  for  an 
unbroken  calm.  And  your  feelings  under- 
go so  many  changes,  changes  for  which  you 
cannot  account,  nor  trace  to  any  cause,  nor 
connect  with  any  holy  end  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, many  of  them  seem  opposed  equally 
to  your  holiness  and  your  happiness,  to  your 
usefulness  in  the  world  as  much  as  to  your 
own  comfort  in  it.  You  have,  for  instance, 
a  season  of  spiritual  consolation  and  peace. 


"This  is  to  enable  me,"  you  say,  "  to  serve 
my  blessed  Saviour  at  last  with  a  warm 
and  happy  heart.  He  has  sent  it  me  to 
strengthen  me  for  his  service."  But  all  at 
once  a  cloud  comes  over  you  ;  a  :?omething 
comes,  that  chills  and  blights  your  happi- 
ness, disabling  you,  as  you  think,  for 
Christ's  service,  and  plainly  telling  you,  as 
you  imagine,  to  lie  still.  But,  enfeebled 
and  disabled  as  you  deem  yourself,  "You 
must  rise  and  serve  me,"  Christ  says ; 
"  serve  me  •^ith  that  cloud  upon  your  soul. 
You  must  do  nore  for  me,  with  that  aching, 
sorrowful  heart  within  you,  than  I  ever 
gave  you  to  do  when  your  lieart  rejoiced." 
There  is  mystery  everywhere,  brethren, 
in  our  way  to  heaven  ;  mystery  within  us, 
mystery  around  us,  many  mysteries  behind 
us  not  yet  cleared  up,  and  still  many  be- 
fore us  to  be  entered  and  passed  through. 
It  would  be  easy  to  show  that  much  of  this 
is  unavoidable,  arising  from  the  character 
of  real  religion  and  our  own  character  ; 
and  it  would  be  as  easy  to  show  that  it  all 
tends  to  the  divine  glory  and  our  good.  The 
Lord  brings  us  acquainted  by  it  with  his 
own  glorious  perfections,  exercises  by  it 
the  graces  he  has  given  us,  humbles  us, 
strengthens  our  faith,  teaches  us  to  confide, 
repose,  and  delight,  in  him.  He  works  in 
us  by  it  a  meetncss  for  heaven  wiiile  lead- 
ing  us  to  it,  making  the  very  road  wliich 
conducts  us  to  his  presence,  fit  us  for  its 
joys.  All  this  however  we  must  pass  by. 
The  chief  object  of  the  text  is  to  bring  us  to 
expect  strange  and  dark  things  in  our  heav- 
enly way  ;  to  check  us  when  we  are  anti- 
cipating a  straight  and  bright  road,  and  to 
prepare  us  for  a  perplexing  one.  "  You 
are  blind  men,"  the  Lord  says,  and  that 
would  seem  to  be  enough  for  his  purpose, 
but  he  does  not  deem  it  enough  ;  "  I  am 
leading  you,"  he  says  again,  "  along  a  new 
way,  a  way  you  know  not ;  along  strange 
paths,  and  tiiese  often  dark  as  darkness  it- 
self, and  winding  and  crooked."  "  We  are 
prepared  for  hardship,"  you  say,  "  and  for 
difiiculty  in  the  way  to  God  ;  a  rough  road, 
a  toilsome,  climbing,  and  long  one."  This 
text  calls  on  you,  brethren,  to  be  prepared 
for  a  very  bewildering  one.  It  jjcrplexed 
even  Paul  with  his  wonderful  knowledge 
of  divine  things;  it  has  perplexed  every  one 
who  has  ever  trodden  in  it.  Before  it  has 
carried  you  to  iieaven,  it  will  perplex  you. 
The  Lord  make  you  willing  tc, be  perplexed 
in  it !     The  Lord  enable  you  .0  see  in  your 


148 


THF.  BLl.XD  LED. 


perplexities  something  like  a  prodl  iluu  you 
are  in  the  way  to  him!  a  proof  ihat  he  re- 
members this  faithful  promise  of  his,  and 
is  now  fulfillino;  it  according  to  his  everlast- 
ing purpose  in  you  ! 

IV.  We  may  now  go  on  to  another  point 
in  the  text — iJte  occasional  light  and  relief 
which  the  Lord  fromises  to  his  people  in  their 
way  ;  "  I  will  make  darkness  light  before 
them,  and  crooked  things  straight." 

"I  will  do  this,"  he  says.  It  is  useless 
then  for  us  to  attempt  to  do  it.  Nor  must 
we  look  to  our  fellow-men  to  do  it  for  us. 
Our  help  in  this  case,  as  in  every  other, 
Cometh  from  the  Lord.  We  must  look  up- 
ward for  the  Lord's  hand  ;  wait  his  time  ; 
he  will  do  it. 

Our  darkness,  he  says,  shall  be  turned 
into  light,  crooked  things  shall  be  made 
straight.  By  this  we  are  to  understand  that 
our  perplexities  shall  at  times  be  cleared 
up,  and  the  seeming  impediments  in  our 
way  to  heaven,  removed,  or  if  not  removed, 
be  seen  to  be  no  impediments  at  all.  We 
shall  discover  that  the  Lord  is  really  con- 
ducting us  to  heaven,  and  that  by  the  right, 
and  sure,  and  best  way  to  it.  Think  of  a 
traveller  bewildered  at  night  on  his  way  to 
his  home.  He  thought  he  knew  the  road  to 
it,  but  the  darkness  is  so  thick,  that  he  can- 
not tell  whether  or  not  he  is  in  it.  He  has 
been  winding  hither  and  thithei'  in  the  de- 
vious track  he  has  followed,  till  he  begins 
to  fear  that  he  has  got  out  of  the  right  path, 
and  is  pursuing  a  wrong  one  which  will 
lead  him  he  knows  not  whither.  But  the 
moon  rises  or  the  morning  breaks  ;  he  starts 
with  a  joyful  surprise  to  see  his  own  longed 
for  home  directly  before  him,  and  the  very 
road  he  is  travelling  is  the  road  that  will 
lead  to  it.  Many  such  surprisals  as  this 
does  the  Christian  traveller  meet  with.  You 
yourselves,  brethren,  may  expect  to  meet 
with  them.  Tiie  promise  says  so,  our 
Lord's  own  promise  ;  "  What  I  do  thou 
knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  here- 
after." "  Unto  you,"  he  says  again,  "  it  is 
given  to  know  the  mystery  of  the  kingdom 
of  God."  "  It  is  your  appointed  privilege 
to  be  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  my  gos- 
pel and  kingdom,  my  grace  and  providence  ; 
not  thoroughly  to  understand  them,  but  to 
know  something  of  them,  to  know  more  and 
more  of  them,  to  know  enough  of  them  not 
to  stumble  at  them  in  your  way,  not  to  be 
turned  back  or  long  discouraged  by  them. 
You  shall  have  light  enough  in  your  way 


t(.  iiiiil-c  yiuir  way  a   practicable  and  fr© 
qiicnlly  h  plain  and  brightone." 

And  this  light  is  often  thrown  across  our 
path  in  very  unexpected  seasons.  •'  At 
evening  time,"  the  prophet  says,  "  it  shall 
be  light;"  at  evening  time,  when  appear- 
ances and  experience  would  say,  no  light 
can  come.  And  so  we  find  it.  Dark  afilic- 
tions  are  often  rolled  away  in  a  moment, 
while  we  are  saying,  no  relief  shall  we 
ever  have  from  them  :  or  if  not  rolled 
away,  light  breaks  in  upon  them  ;  we  see 
their  end  and  design  ;  the  Lord  discovers 
to  us  why  he  has  sent  them.  The  same 
with  divine  truths  and  doctrines.  We  can- 
not understand  them,  they  appear  so  mys- 
terious ;  or  we  cannot  bring  our  minds  to 
receive  them,  they  appear  so  hard,  so  op- 
posed to  our  reason  or  else  to  some  parts 
of  God's  faithful  word  :  but  we  hear  a  ser- 
mon, or  we  read  a  book,  or  some  passage 
of  scripture  is  brought  with  power  to  our 
minds,  and  the  mysterious  doctrine,  the 
hard  saying,  is  understood  and  received  at 
once.  We  see  its  meaning,  we  discern  its 
truth.  Instead  of  stumbling  at  it  as  we  used 
to  do,  wishing  it  out  of  our  way,  we  rejoice 
in  it.  The  crooked  thing  is  become  straight, 
tlie  dark  thing  is  become  light.  Think  of 
our  Lord's  disciples.  Amidst  how  much 
darkness  did  they  begin  their  course!  how 
perplexed  they  were  when  he  talked  to 
them  of  the  mysteries  of  his  kingdom ! 
When  he  spoke  to  them  for  instance  of  his 
approaching  sufferings  or  the  spiritual  na- 
ture of  his  kingdom,  they  could  iiardly  un- 
derstand the  plainest  things  he  said.  If 
ever  men  Avere  spiritually  blind,  they  were 
the  men  ;  and  worse  than  blind — much 
that  our  Lord  said,  offended  them.  And 
for  three  long  years  he  suffered  this  to  go 
on.  But  at  last  the  darkness  became  light. 
In  one  week  or  little  more  after  their  Mas- 
ter had  left  them,  these  men  were  glorying 
in  the  truths  at  which  they  had  before  won- 
dered. Every  thing  had  become  plain  to 
them.  They  were  travelling  along  the  way 
to  heaven  with  light  above  and  ligiit  within 
them,  the  rejoicing  preachers  of  their  Mas- 
ter's cross,  that  veiy  cross  of  which  for 
years  they  could  scarcely  bear  to  hear  him 
speak.  Here  surely  is  comfort  for  you, 
brethren,  who  are  mourning  over  your  ig- 
norance ;  and  here  is  comfort  for  you  who 
are  battling  with  your  prejudices.  Igno- 
rance and  prejudice  are  nothing  to  the  Lord. 
A  few  beams  of  his  light  let  in  upon  them 


Tin:  ni.lND  LED 


149 


eind  them  at  once.  And  this  liiiht,  this 
scripture  says,  you  shall  have.  C)  seek  it, 
hope  for  and  expect  it.  It  may  be  twilight 
with  you  now,  or  even  midnight ;  hut  tarry 
thou  the  Lord's  leisure,  the  promise  says 
— it  shall  eventuaHy  be  day,  and  a  bright 
one.  "  The  path  of  the  just  is  as  the  shin- 
ing light,  that  shineth  more  and  more  unto 
the  perfect  day." 

V.  We  must  just  notice  the  concluding 
promise  in  the  text.  It  is  a  promise  of  per- 
manency and  unrhangeahleness  in  Jehovali's 
love  to  the  people  he  is  guiding ;  "  These 
things  I  will  do  unto  them,  and  not  forsake 
them." 

The  Lord  speaks  here  like  one  who  has 
fullv  made  up  his  mind  to  do  what  he 
promises,  know^s  he  can  do  it,  and  is  deter- 
mined he  will.  His  greatness  first  appears 
in  it.  In  the  preceding  verse  ho  had  spoken 
like  a  great  God.  No  obstacles,  he  says 
there,  shall  stop  him  from  executing  his 
purposes  concerning  his  people.  Moun- 
tains and  hills,  rivers  and  pools,  shall  van- 
ish before  him  when  they  come  in  his  way 
as  he  is  leading  them.  They  shall  keep 
on  their  way  in  spite  of  them.  He  will 
make  waste,  scatter  the  mountains,  and 
dry  up  the  pools.  Here  he  seems  to  be 
expressing  again  the  same  idea,  but  adding 
to  it  now  another,  declaring  the  unchange- 
'able  character  of  his  love  for  his  people,  at 
the  same  time  with  his  greatness.  "  These 
things  ^vill  I  do  unto  them" — no  one  shall 
hinder  me  ;  "  and  I  will  not  forsake  them" 
— nothing  in  them  shall  make  me  weary  of 
leading  them.  He  seems  to  foresee  the 
trials  of  his  patience,  that  he  shall  have 
from  us  as^  he  guides  us  along,  our  provo- 
cations ;  but,  "I  do  not  regard  them."  he 
says.  "In  spite  even  ofthr'ni.  I  will  lead 
my  people  on.  I  will  not  l  avo  them  in 
any  case.  In  no  emergency,  under  no 
provocations,  will  I  forsake  them."  In 
another  passage  of  scripture,  he  speaks  of 
his  Son  in  the  character  of  his  angel,  as 
guiding  his  people  to  a  promised  heuven,  and 
tells  them  there  that  they  must  not  provoke 
him,  for  "  he  will  not  pardon  their  transgres- 
sions." He  savs  nothing  contrary  to  this 
here,  only  he  says  that  though  he  is  a  holy 
Saviour,  he  is  a  faithful,  unchangr'al)le  one  ; 
that  though  he  will  smite  and  scourge  and, 
if  need  be,  scourge  again,  the  people  that 


follow  him,  he  will  ot  give  them  up,  not 
alnuidon  them.  They  have  put  themselves 
under  his  guidance,  they  have  committed 
themselves  to  his  keeping,  and  he  will  never 
let  them  go  out  of  his  keeping,  he  will 
guide  them  by  his  counsel,  and  after  that 
receive  them  to  his  glory. 

May  we  not  then  say,  "  Happy  are  the 
people  that  ai-e  in  such  a  case  !"  Happy 
are  those  whom  the  eternal  Jehovah  is 
leading  along  even  a  dark  road  to  heaven  ! 
This  is  the  feeling,  brethren,  this  text  should 
call  forth  in  every  heart,  even  in  yours 
who  are  in  heaviness  and  darkness  in  God's 
ways.  "  You  are  happy  men,"  it  says, 
"  notwithstanding  your  darkness.  You  are 
just  where  the  eternal  God  purposed  ages 
ago,  and  promised  ages  ago,  to  place  the 
people  he  loves  ;  exactly  in  those  circum- 
stances  into  which  he  said  he  would  bt.'ig 
his  redeemed  and  chosen."  "  We  are  j>er- 
plexed,  bewildered,  and  distressed,"  j'ou 
say,  and  so  he  tells  you  in  this  text  you 
should  be,  and  be  again  and  again  before 
vour  earthly  pilgrimage  is  done  ;  but  what 
does  he  tell  you  here  besides  ?  That  he  is 
leading  you  along  all  the  while  he  is  per- 
plexing you.  Wondering  and  distressed, 
through  his  grace  you  arc  going  on.  The 
darkness  is  thick,  but  you  are  getting 
through  it.  The  road  is  a  crooked  one,  but 
it  will  end  in  straightncss.  Now  nothing 
may  be  as  you  would  have  it ;  wait  a  little 
— every  thing  perhaps,  shall  be  even  in  this 
world  almost  as  you  would  have  it;  the 
clouds  dispersed,  the  way  plain,  heaven  in 
vour  eye,  and  something  like  the  peace  and 
joy  of  heaven  springing  up  in  your  hearts. 
O  brethren,  who  wouhl  ever  make  light  of 
the  grace  of  Jesus  Christ,  that  knows  its 
value  ?  I  mean,  even  its  present  value  ; 
its  power  to  steady,  strengthen,  and  tran- 
quillize the  soul  in  this  world  of  storms.  It 
"bringeth  salvation  ;"  it  saves  the  immor- 
tal soul — that  is  the  highest  thing  which 
can  be  said  of  it  ;  all  else  which  can  be 
\  said  of  it,  is  poor  in  comparison  with  that  ; 
but  if  we  lose  sight  of  that  for  a  moment, 
if  we  think  only  of  the  wonderful  peace  this 
grace  can  give  to  man's  harassed  soul  in 
these  days  of  his  darkness,  "  Lord,"  we 
should  all  say,  "  give  us  of  this  grace, 
though  thou  take  from  us  every  thing  be- 
sides,  which  thou  hast  given." 


150 


CHRIST  SITTING  AT  THE  RIGHT  HAND  OF  GUD 


SERMON  XXXII. 

THE    SUNDAV."    AFTER    ASCEXSION    DAY. 

CHRIST  SITTING  AT  THE  RIGHT  HAND  OF 
GOD. 

Psalm  ex.  1,  2,  3. — "  The  Lord  said  unto  my  Lord, 
Sit  thou  at  my  right  hand  until  I  make  thine 
enemies  thy  footstool.  The  Lord  shall  send  the 
rod  of  thy  strength  out  of  Zion;  rule  thou  in 
the  midst  of  thine  enemies.  Thy  people  shall 
be  willing  in  the  day  of  thy  power,  in  the  beau- 
ties of  holiness;  from  the  womb  of  the7norning, 
thou  hast  the  dew  of  thy  youth." 

This  psalm  may  be  said  to  be  honored 
in  the  New  Testament  above  all  others.  It 
is  quoted  there  no  fewer  than  six  times. 
And  every  time  it  is  quoted,  it  is  referred 
to  Christ.  And  there  is  this  peculiarity  to 
be  noticed  in  it — while  most  other  psalms 
are  applicable  to  our  Lord  in  a  secondary 
sense  only,  speaking  first  of  David  or  Solo- 
mon, and  then  through  them  of  him,  this 
speaks  of  him  primarily,  or  rather  of  him 
only.  No  other  is  allowed  any  place  what- 
ever in  it.  It  is  like  a  stately  temple  sacred 
to  him  alone. 

In  the  portion  of  it  now  before  us,  the 
Holy  Spirit  foretells, 

I.  His  heavenly  exaltation ;  "  The  Lord 
said  unto  my  Lord,  Sit  thou  at  my  right 
hand." 

"  The  Lord" — in  the  original  it  is  "  Je- 
hovah," the  eternal  God,  as  the  capital  let- 
ters in  our  translation  indicate. 

"  My  Lord" — Christ,  as  Christ  himself 
told  the  Jews  ;  David's  root  as  well  as  off- 
spring ;  his  son,  but  his  Lord  and  God  as 
well  as  son. 

"  The  Lord  said  unto  my  Lord," — the 
past  tense,  you  observe,  instead  of  the 
future  ;  a  conmion  mode  of  expression  in 
prophecy,  indicating  God's  fixed  determi- 
nation to  do  what  he  purposes.  He  has 
settled  it  in  his  mind  to  do  it.  "  Write  it 
down  therefore,"  the  Spirit  says,  "  as 
already  done." 

"  The  Lord  said  unto  my  Lord,  Sit  thou 
at  my  right  hand."  Here  are  two  ideas, 
elevation  and  ])ower. 

First,  elevation.  We  must  imagine  our- 
selves for  a  moment  in  heaven.  You  see 
there  a  countless  multitude  of  happy  be- 
ings, rising  one  above  another,  if  not  in 
happiness,  in  station  and  glory.  As  your 
eye  glances  delighted  from  the  lowest  to 
the  highest  of  these  happy  beings,  the  dis- 


tance between  them  seems  great,  even  im- 
mense ;  but  then  above  the  highest,  at  a 
distance  immeasurably  more  immense,  sits 
the  eternal  Jehovah,  the  Lord  of  all.  And 
now  the  risen  Man  Christ  Jesus,  his  work 
on  earth  being  done,  comes  to  this  heaven. 
Its  everlasting  doors  open  to  receive  him, 
and  amid  the  shouts  of  transported  millions 
he  enters  this  world  of  gloiy ;  and  what 
place  shall  he  have  in  it  ?  \Ve  look  per- 
haps to  the  highest  rank  of  the  highest  an- 
gels, and  expect  him  to  take  for  himself  a 
place  there,  and  the  most  exalted  that  can 
be  found.  But,  "  Sit  thou  at  my  right  hand," 
says  the  lofty  Jehovah  to  him.  He  calls 
him  up  far  above  all  angels  to  himself. 
That  immeasurable  space,  sepai'ating  the 
highest  creature  from  the  Creator,  which 
none  before  had  ever  passed  through,  he 
passes  through,  and  sits  down  by  the  side 
of  the  everlasting  God.  God  has  not  only 
exalted  him,  St.  Paul  tells  us,  but  "  highly 
exalted  him."  "  He  has  set  him,"  he  says 
again,  "  at  his  own  right  hand  in  the  heav- 
enly places,"  not  only  above,  but  "  far 
above  principality  and  power,  and  every 
name  that  is  named"  in-  those  heavenly 
places.  In  the  highest  world  of  all  worlds, 
among  the  highest  beings  of  all  beings,  he 
has  the  pre-eminence  ;  he  is  lifted  up  above 
all.  O  may  he  ever  be  reverenced  and 
adored  above  all  by  us  !  May  he  be  lifted 
up  far  above  all  other  beings  in  our  hearts  ! 

Power  also  is  intimated  in  these  words. 

The  text  does  not  say  so,  but  it  is  a 
throne,  on  which  the  ascended  Jesus  is  here 
invited  to  sit.  He  who  calls  him  up  to  him, 
is  the  great  Sovereign  of  the  universe  ;  and 
his  bidding  him  sit  down  by  him  at  his 
right  hand,  is  an  investing  of  him  with  a 
share  of  all  the  authority  and  dominion  he 
himself  possesses  ;  it  is  an  enthronement  ol 
him  with  himself  as  the  world's  great  King. 
Other  scriptures  declare  this  more  plainly. 
"  Him  hath  God  exalted,"  St.  Peter  tells 
the  Jews,  and  for  what  purpose  ?  "  To  be 
a  Prince."-  "The  government  shall  he 
upon  his  shoulders,"  says  Isaiah.  ••  The 
Lord  hath  made  him  head  over  all  things," 
says  Paul  ;  "  he  hath  put  all  things  under 
liis  feet ;"  "  he  must  reign."  And  he  him- 
self  seems  to  have  had  this  in  his  mind  as 
he  was  going  to  his  Father.  "  All  power  i<! 
given  unto  me,"  he  said  to  his  disciples 
just  before  his  ascension,  "  all  power  in 
heaven  and  in  earth."  His  ascending 
therefore  to  God's  right  hand,  and  his  seat 


CHRIST  SITTING  AT  THE  RIGHT  HAND  OF  GOD 


161 


ing  himself  there,  we  must  regard  as  noth- 1 
ing  more  than  his  going  and  placing  him-  j 
self  where  he  ought  to  be;  wl)ere  he  may 
exercise  the  power  that  is  delegated  to  him, 
in  the  station  and  with  the  magnificence 
which  become  it.  It  is  a  king's  going  out 
from  the  common  crowd  of  men,  and  pla- 
cing himself  on  his  throne,  declaring  him- 
self a  king. 

And  we  must  ever  bear  in  mind,  breth- 
ren, that  it  is  in  his  human  character  our 
Lord  is  thus  elevated  and  enthroned.  In 
his  divine  nature  he  was  elevated  and  en- 
throned before,  incapable  of  exaltation,  so 
high  that  he  could  not  be  higher.  The 
marvellous  fact  we  have  before  us  here,  is 
the  exaltation  of  the  Man  Christ  Jesus  ; 
the  lifting  up  of  one  like  ourselves  from 
this  low  world  to  the  summit  of  the  uni- 
verse ;  and  not  to  be  dashed  down  again, 
but  to  sit  there,  to  abide  there,  reigning 
there  Jehovah's  Fellow  or  Compeer,  or 
more  plainly  Jehovah's  Representative, 
over  the  wide  creation. 

But  turn  again  to  the  text. 

11.  It  sets  forth  the  slate  of  our  world  at 
ihr  lime  when  Christ  teas  thus  exalted  to  be 
iti  King. 

W(    might  have  supposed  that  the  world 
would  have  welcomed  with  joy  and  thank- 
fulness such  a  King.     He  is  one  of  our- 
selves ;    he   has   shown    already  that   his 
heart  is  full  of  kindness  and  love  towards 
us  ;  and  we  are  told   by  the  God  who  has  ; 
exalted  him,  that  he  has  exalted  him  with 
the  most  merciful  designs,  that  he  may  be  ' 
a  Saviour  to  us  as  well  as  a  Prince,  take 
from  his  riches  in  glory  the  most  precious 
things  those  riches  contain,  and  pour  them 
down  on    us   with   a    royal    munificence. 
But   what  is  the   fact  ?     The    psalm  de- 
scribes the  world  as  in  a  state  of  deter- 
mined hostility  to  him.     The   first  verse  i 
in  it  speaks  of  his  enemies,  and   the  great 
work  it  throughout  speaks  of  as  going  on 
in  our  world,  is  the  subjugation  of  his  ene- 
mies.    But  this  applies,  you  may  say,  to 
Jerusalem    and   the    nation  of   the  Jews. 
Beloved   brethren,  it  applies  to  ourselves 
and  to  all  mankind.     We   are  all  by  na-  j 
ture  the  enemies  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  much 
alienated  from  iiim  as  we  are  from  his  Fa- | 
ther.     This    blessed  Jesus  was  not    iiated  1 
in  Jerusalem  only,  where  he  was  crucified  ;  I 
as  though  there  was  .something  peculiar  in 
the  men  of  that  place,  as  though  some  fatal  i 
necessity  hung  over  them,  which  impelled  j 


them  to  crucify  the  Lord  of  glory — he  w&s 
liated  wherever  he  ap|)eared  ;  and  had  he 
gone  out  from  Juchia  and  Galilee  into  other 
countries,  he  would  have  been  hated  there 
also  ;  Rome,  with  all  her  boasted  admira- 
tion of  virtue,  would  have  cried  out  for  his 
destruction,  and  polished  Greece  would 
iiave  cast  him  away  with  scorn.  Mow 
were  his  followers  treated  when  they  went 
from  country  to  country,  preaching  his 
gospel  and  proclaiming  his  kingdom  ? 
They  found  that  they  were  going  every, 
where  through  a  hostile  world  ;  they  every- 
where brought  on  themselves  and  on  their 
Master  the  world's  enmity.  And  what  is 
the  etTect  of  the  gospeJ  now,  when  it  is  any- 
where  plainly,  fully,  and  earnestly  preach- 
ed ?  We  try  to  conceal  the  fact,  but  we 
cannot — it  calls  into  action,  it  brings  into 
sight,  the  dreadful  hostility  whicii  is  slum- 
bering in  men's  breasts  against  Christ;  it 
is  sure  to  excite  men's  displeasure  the  ve»v 
instant  it  begins  to  clothe  itself  with  power, 
and  touch  men's  consciences  and  hearts. 

We  could  easily  account  for  this ;  the 
explanation  of  it  is  to  be  found  in  our  cor- 
rupt  fallen  nature.  "  The  carnal  mind," 
says  the  scripture,  "  is  enmity  against  God," 
and  because  it  is  enmity  against  God,  it  is 
hostile  to  this  holy  Representative  of  God, 
to  him  who  is  God's  image  and  likeness, 
and  is  appointed  to  rule  over  the  world  in 
God's  stead.  And  it  is  there  mainly,  in 
his  claims  on  us  as  our  Ruler,  that  the 
secret  cause  of  our  enmity  against  Christ 
lies.  He  is  a  holy  Ruler,  and  one  who 
will  be  bowed  down  to  and  obeyed  ;  we, 
self-willed,  unholy  men,  do  not  like  such 
a  Ruler,  nor  any  ruler  at  all  who  is  to 
humble  and  control  us.  We  dislike  the 
grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  but  it  is 
the  kingdom,  the  reign  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  that  men  most  hate.  "Tell  us," 
they  say,  "  he  is  our  Teacher,  and  we  will 
listen  to  him  ;  tell  us  he  is  our  Saviour, 
and  we  will  hope  in  him  ;  nay,  tell  us  he 
is  our  Lord,  we  will  call  him  Lord,  and 
join  you  in  any  outward  act  of  respect 
and  homage  to  him  you  please  ;  but  if  you 
tell  us  that  he  is  to  interfere  with  our  hab- 
its, our  daily  thoughts  and  feelings  ;  that 
our  liberty  is  to  go  ;  that  we  arc  to  be  fet- 
tered every  step  we  take  in  our  bnsines.s, 
pursuits,  and  even  pleasures,  by  his  laws — 
we  tell  you,  and  fell  you  plainly,  we  will 
not  bear  this ;  we  will  not  have  this  man 
to  reign  over  us."     This  is  daring,  fearful 


152 


CHRIST  SITTING  AT  THE  RIGHT  HAND  OF  GOD. 


language,  brethren,  but  it  is  the  natural 
language  of"  every  unregenerate  human 
heart.     It  either  is  or  has  been  our  own. 

Now  with  Christ  on  his  throne  and  the 
world  in  this  state  of  determined  hostility 
to  him,  it  is  clear  that  something  must  be 
done,  or  one  great  end  of  Christ's  exalta- 
tion will  be  defeated  ;  he  will  not  be  a  real, 
he  will  be  only  a  nominal  King.  See  next 
in  the  psalm  therefore, 

III.  The  means  employed  ly  Jehovah  lo 
overcome  the  hostility  of  the  tcnr/d  against 
his  Son ;  "  The  Lord  shall  send  the  rod 
of  thy  strength  out  of  Zion." 

"  The  rod  of  thy  strength" — this  is  a 
metaphor  harmonizing  with  the  language 
of  the  verse  preceding.  The  Lord  Jesus 
is  represented  there  as  a  king,  and  an  en- 
throned king.  Now  kings  when  on  their 
thrones,  frequently  bear  in  their  right  hands 
a  rod  or  sceptre,  as  typical  of  their  author- 
ity. It  may  well  therefore  be  called  "  the 
rod  of  their  strength  ;"  it  is  an  emblem 
of  that  authority  which  constitutes  their 
strength ;  and  it  is  easy  to  carry  on  the 
figure  in  our  minds  a  little  further,  and  re- 
gard it  as  the  instrument  or  weapon  by 
which  they  accomplish  their  sovereign  will. 
The  question  is  then,  what  in  this  case  docs 
this  strong  rod  represent  ?  In  other  words, 
what  are  the  powerful  means  which  the 
great  God  employs  in  order  to  subdue  a 
hostile  world  to  Christ,  its  King  ?  We  can 
answer  the  question  in  a  moment — it  is  the 
gospel  of  Christ,  the  word  of  Christ.  This 
is  called  in  scripture  a  "  powerful"  word  ; 
it  is  said  to  be  "  mighty  through  God." 
The  same  name  is  applied  to  it,  that  is  ap- 
plied to  Christ  himself — "  the  power  of 
God."  It  is  the  sword  which  this  most 
mighty  Prince  is  called  on  to  "gird  upon 
his  thigh,"  and  armed  with  which  he  is  to 
"  ride  on  in  his  majesty  prosperously,"  his 
right  liand  accomplishing  "terrible  things," 
"  his  enemies  and  the  people  falling  under 
him." 

This  rod  is  to  be  "  sent  forth  out  of  Zi- 
on"— the  meaning  is,  the  gospel  which  is 
to  subdue  the  world  to  Christ  shall  go  forth 
into  the  world  first  from  Jerusalem  where 
the  hill  of  Zion  stood.  Other  prophecies 
foretell  this.  "  Out  of  Zion,"  says  Isaiah, 
"  shall  go  forth  tlie  law,"  the  new  law  of 
grace  which  is  to  convert  the  Gentiles, 
"and  the  word  of  the  Lord."  he  adds, 
"  fronv  Jerusalem."  "  it  shall  b(>  in  that 
day,"  sayu  anollu'r   propiiet.  "  that  living 


waters  shall  go  out  from  Jerusalem."  And 
the  fact  corresponded  with  these  predict.ons. 
Our  Lord,  as  though  purposely  to  fulfil 
them,  led  his  disciples  back  again  from  Gali- 
lee, whither  he  had  sent  them  after  his  re- 
surrection, and  one  of  his  last  commands  to 
them  was,  that  they  should  keep  together 
at  Jerusalem  till  the  Spirit  from  on  high 
should  be  poured  out  on  them.  And  they 
were  then  not  at  once  to  disperse.  They 
were  to  begin-  preaching  his  gospel  at  Je- 
rusalem, thus  making  Jerusalem,  as  it 
were,  the  centre  from  which  the  light  that 
was  to  ditluse  itself  eventually  over  the 
whole  world,  should  stream  forth.  And 
who  does  not  see  his  love  to  this  guilty  city 
in  this  ?  O  honored  Jerusalem,  we  may 
say, loved  and  honored  to  the  very  last ! 
Stained  with  his  blood,  even  on  the  point 
of  being  given  up  by  him  for  its  enormous 
transgressions,  the  love  of  its  Lord  still 
lingers  over  it.  He  cannot  even  yet  for- 
sake  it,  without  giving  it  as  he  goes  a  part- 
ing token  of  his  regard. 

But  what  does  fact  say  as  to  the  power 
of  this  gospel  ?  Has  it  proved  itself  the 
rod  of  Christ's  strength  ?  That  something 
produced  a  mighty  effect  on  the  world  soon 
after  our  Lord's  ascension,  is  quite  certain. 
"  Rule  thou  in  the  midst  of  thine  enemies," 
says  the  text  to  him,  and  in  the  midst  of 
his  most  violent  enemies  Christ  did  rule. 
In  the  inveterate  and  lately  infuriated  Je- 
rusalem, thousands  bowed  at  once  to  his 
sceptre,  and  throughout  pagan  Greece  and 
Rome,  his  name  was  called  on  and  adored. 
And  what  wrought  this  change  ?  There 
were  no  Christian  liturgies  then,  brethren  ; 
not  one  of  the  Christian  fathers  had  yet 
written  ;  pompous  forms  and  ceremonies 
in  the  church  were  unknown  ;  sacraments 
there  were,  but  you  could  not  get  the  Jew 
and  heathen  to  attend  them.  All  those 
things  which  some  men  in  our  day  are 
holding  up  as  the  great  means  of  evange- 
lizing and  saving  tiie  world,  had  most  cer- 
tainly nothing  at  all  to  do  with  this  matter. 
What  then  'had  to  do  with  it?  What 
brought  about  this  wondrous  change  ?  Tl 
was  preaching,  brethren,  that  brought  it 
about;  the  simple  preaching  of  ('hrist's 
gospel  by  a  few  ditcrmiiu'd.  faithful  men. 
It  was  going  ahcut  this  guilty  world  and 
telling  men  that  tlie  God  thev  had  sinned 
against,  still  loved  them,  and  in  the  abun- 
(hmce  of  his  love  for  them,  had  provided 
I  lur  tluui  a  Saviour.     It  was  making  known 


CHRIST  SITTING  AT  THE  RIGHT  HAND  OF  GOD. 


153 


to  men  tlie  Saviour  God  had  provided  for 
them,  the  loving,  suflbring,  bleeding,  dying 
Jesus.  It  was  holding  up  Christ  on  a  cross 
to  men,  and  bidding  them  look  to  him  and  j 
be  saved.  This  in  God's  hands,  and  this 
alone,  caused  the  autiiority  of  Clirist  to  be 
acknowledged  in  the  earth.  This  gave 
him  a  people  and  a  church  and  a  kingdom 
in  our  world,  when  our  world  had  deter- 
mined he  should  have  neither  name  nor 
place  in  it.  '•  Thanks  be  unto  God,"  says 
Paul,  "which  always  causeth  us  to  tri- 
umpii  in  Christ;"  and  how  were  Paul's 
ceaseless  triumphs  won  ?  "  We  preach 
Christ  crucified,"  he  says  again  ;  "  to  the 
Jews  a  stumbling-block  and  to  the  Greeks 
foolishness  ;  but  no  matter  who  stumbles 
or  who  scofis,  the  gospel  we  preach  carries 
us  triumphantly  along.  It  is  the  rod  of 
Christ's  strength,  and  feeble  as  are  our 
hands  that  wield  it,  wherever  it  comes, 
Christ  is  victorious.  He  is  felt  to  be 
Christ  the  power  of  God  and  the  wisdom 
of  God." 

IV.  We  see  further  in  the  text,  what  we 
have  partly  anticipated,  the  happy  results 
of  this  interposition  of  Jehovah,  the  glorious 
success  of  the  means  which  he  employs  for 
the  establishment  of  his  Son's  kingdom. 
"  The  Lord  shall  send  the  rod  of  thy 
strength  out  of  Zion ;"  then  says  David, 
foreseeing  and  exulting  in  what  will  follow, 
"  Rule  thou  in  the  midst  of  thine  enemies  ;" 
and  over  whom  is  he  to  rule  there  ?  Over 
these  enemies  themselves,  subjugating  and 
crushing  some  of  them,  as  the  fifth  verse 
shows  ;  and  turning  others  of  them,  as  the 
text  declares,  into  his  willing  subjects  and 
friends.  He  is  to  have  a  people  taken  out 
from  among  his  enemies,  and  a  numerous 
people,  and  a  people  that  shall  do  him 
honor.  "  Thy  people  shall  be  willing  in 
the  day  of  thy  power,  in  the  beauties  of 
holiness;  from  the  womb  of  the  morning 
thou  hast  the  dew  of  thy  youth."  Here  is 
a  description,  and  a  beautiful  one,  of  all 
Christ's  real  people  in  every  age  of  the 
world. 

They  are,  first,  a  tci/Iing  people.  "  Will- 
ing,"  we  may  say,  "  for  what  V  Willing, 
brethren,  for  any  thing  and  every  thing 
which  Christ  desires.  There  was  a  time 
when  they,  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  were 
willing  for  nothing  which  he  desired.  They 
possessed  by  nature,  in  common  with  others, 
a  principle  of  opposition  and  enmity  to  him. 
Every  law  he  gave  them,  when  inclination 
20 


prompted,  they  trampled  on;  <  nd  every 
offer  of  mercy  he  sent  them,  they  refused. 
They  would  not  bow  down  to  him  as  a 
King,  they  would  not  embrace  him  as  a 
Saviour.  But  he  touched  them  with  the 
rod  of  his  strength,  ho  made  them  feel  the 
power  of  his  Spirit  and  his  gospel,  and  now 
there  is  nothing  for  whicli  they  are  not 
willing.  The  language  in  the  original  is 
stronger  than  in  our  translation.  It  is 
"  willingness ;"  the  noun  for  the  adjective — 
a  Hebrew  way  of  expressing  a  thing  forci- 
bly. This  people  are  more  than  will- 
ing,  it  implies;  they  are  willingness  itself; 
they  are  eager  to  receive  Christ  as  their 
Prince  and  Saviour  ;  they  feel  it  to  be  their 
delight  and  joy  to  come  under  his  dominion. 
Their  own  righteousness,  the  righteousness 
they  clung  to  so  long  and  thought  so  much 
of — does  he  command  them  to  cast  it  off 
and  to  put  on  his  ?  They  a:c  glad  to  cast 
it  off,  are  glad  to  get  rid  of  their  dependence 
on  it ;  and  are  never  more  glad,  than  when 
they  can  feel  that  the  righteousness  of 
Ciirist  is  covering  and  adorning  them.  Does 
he  bid  them  renounce  the  worM  ?  A  little 
while  ago  he  might  as  well  have  bid  tiiem 
renounce  existence;  the  world  was  their 
all :  but  their  language  now  is,  "  Lord, 
sever  me  and  the  world  asunder.  I  would 
give  up  a  thousand  such  worlds  for  thee." 
Is  his  language  to  them,  "  Have  done 
with  sin  ?"  "  Lord,"  they  say,  "  help  us 
to  have  done  with  it."  And  then  does  he 
say  to  them,  "  Give  me  your  hearts  ;  yea, 
give  me  yourselves  ?"  "  Lord,"  they  an- 
swer, "take  our  hearts  and  take  ourselves. 
We  can  think  of  no  higher  happiness  than 
to  be  entirci-j  id  forever  thine."  "  Will- 
ing"— it  is  exactly  the  Avord,  brethren,  that 
describes  a  real  Christian.  Does  it  describe 
you  ?  Has  there  been  a  day  in  your-liis- 
tory,  which  you  have  felt  to  be  the  day  of 
Christ's  power  ?  a  day  when  all  your  pre- 
judices against  him  and  his  gospel  have 
given  way,  all  your  reluctance  to  his  ser- 
vice has  been  overcome  ?  a  day  when  you 
felt  that  you  could  .stand  out  no  longer 
against  the  constraining  influence  of  his 
love,  but  would  be  and  nmst  be  one  of  his  ? 
If  so,  let  me  tell  you  it  is  an  unspeakable 
blessing  to  have  the  will  subdued  x  Christ. 
His  sovereign  grace  has  led  you  over  the 
line  that  separates  his  friends  from  his 
enemies,  heaven  from  hell. 

Rut  again — this  willing  people  are  to  be 
numerous.     In  the  land  where  the  scriptures 


154 


CHRIST  SITTING  AT  THE  RIGHT  HAND  OF  GOD. 


were  written,  the  dew  is  inucli  more  uhun- 
daut  than  in  our  country,  but  even  here  the 
drops  of  dew  as  they  sparkle  on  the  trees 
and   grass,  are  sometimes  countless.     As 
numerous,  this  psalm    says,  shall    be  the 
people  of  Christ.      "From'the  womb  of  the 
morning  thou  hast  the  dew  of  thy  youth  ;" 
that  is,   "  The  souls  that  shall   be  born  to 
thee  through  the  gospel,  shall  equal  in  mul- 
titude the  spangles  of  dew  which  the  morn- 
ing gives  birth  to,  or  reveals  to  our  sight. 
And  thou  shall  not  have  to  wait  age  afte 
age  for  this,  it  shall  take  place  in  thy  youth, 
soon  after  thou  art  e.xalted  to  thy  heavenly 
throne."     And  so  it  was.     It  was  a  dreary 
night  that  the  Saviour  passed  through  be- 
fore his  ascension,  but  scarcely  was  he  ten 
days   old   on    the  throne   of  his   kingdom, 
when  a  day  broke  on  the  earth,  which  has 
ever  since  astonished  it.     "  Go  away  from 
Jerusalem,"  we  should    have  said   to  the 
disciples  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  when  the 
Spirit  was  poured  on  them ;  "  your  Lord 
lias  no  people  here  ;  it  is  useless  to  preach 
his  gospel  in  this  guilty  place."    But  preach 
it  they  did,  and  the  first  sermon  they  preach- 
ed, bowed  down  three  thousand  souls  before 
their  Lord.      They  preached  again;  two 
thousand  more  yielded  to  their  word,  and  for 
years  afterwards  wherever  the  gospel  went, 
the  effect  was  of  the  same  character.     And 
so  it  shall  be  again.     This  prophecy  is  only 
half  fulfdled.     May  I  say  that  ano'ther  day 
of  Pentecost  shall   come  ?     Not   so,  but  a 
day  which  shall  resemble  it ;  a  day  when 
the  Spirit  shall  be  poured  out  almost  with- 
out measure  on  the  earth,  and  Christ  and 
his    church    shall    have   a   second    youth. 
"Sliall  the  earth  be  made  to  bring  forth  in 
one  day  ?"  says  Isaiah  ;   "  or  shall  a  nation 
be  born  at  once  ?"     And  then  he  intimates 
to  us  that,  through  the  mighty  power  of 
God,  so  it  shall  really  be;   that  the  turning 
of  the  world,  both  the  Jewish  and  the  Gen- 
tile world  to  Christ,  shall   be  a  rapid  turn- 
ing.      It  shall   be  like  a  birth,  or  like  the 
glorious  course  of  some  wide-flowing,  joyful 
stream. 

And  yet  once  again— the  people  of  Christ 
are  to  be  bcaiitifii/,  and  beautiful  because 
holy.  The  te\t  describes  them  as  "  will- 
ing in  the  beauties  of  holiness." 

The  drops  of  the  early  dew  are  beautiful. 
The  rising  sun  not  only  discovers  them,  it 
brightens  and  gilds  them,  makes  them  t'he 
glittering  ornaments  in  the  early  morninii 
of  our  gardens  and  fields.     And  what  were 


the  early  Christians?  I  am  not  speaking 
of  those  who  in  later  centuries  bore  the 
name,  but  had  no  more  of  the  likeness  of 
Christ  'than  we  have  now,  nor  perhaps  so 
much.  I  refer  to  those  who  yielded  first 
to  the  power  of  the  gospel,  and  were  the 
first  fruits  of  the  4jospel  unto  Christ.  Their 
very  enemies  were  constrained  to  do  them 
honor.  They  hated  but  they  admired  them. 
As  they  led  them  forth  to  persecution  and 
to  death,  they  wondered  at  their  lofty  and 
splendid  characters.  But  their  graces  were 
not  their  own.  The  dew  does  "not  sparkle 
when  the  sun  does  not  shine  on  it.  Even  a 
Christian  man  has  no  beauty,  no  holiness, 
but  as  Chi'ist  imparts  it  to  him.  And  what 
is  his  highest  beauty  and  holiness?  It  is 
only  a  faint  reflection  of  his  Lord's  beauty 
and  holiness— a  dew-drop  reflecting  the  sun. 
But  still  that  dew-drop  does  reflect  the  sun  ; 
and  so  does  every  real  believer  in  Christ 
Jesus  reflect  in  some  measure  his  Redeem, 
er's  likeness.  "  Glorious  in  holiness"— 
that  is  the  Lord's  own  character,  Beauti- 
ful in  holiness — that  is  the  character  of  all 
who  are  made  partakers  of  his  grace  and 
Spirit — their  character  now  ;  "  the  beauty 
of  the  Lord"  is  already  upon  them;  it  wifl 
be  more  visibly,  more  brightly  upon  them 
in  a  brighter  world. 

Now  comes  the  question — are  we  our- 
selves numbered  among  this  willing,  numer- 
ous, shining  people?  Tlie  Lord  has  set 
his  own  Son  Jesus  Christ  on  his  lofty  throne, 
and  concerning  every  child  of  man  the  de- 
cree has  gone  forth,  that  they  shall  all  be 
brought  to  his  feet.  "  As  I  live,  saith  the 
Lord,  every  knee  shall  bow  to  me  ;"  and 
what  does  he  say  besides  ?  "  At  the  name 
of  Jesus  every  knee  shall  bow,  and  every 
tongue  shall  confess  that  Jesus  Christ  is 
Lord."  This  decree  concerns  you  and 
me,  brethren  ;  this  psalm  concerns'you  and 
me.  St.  Paul,  referring  to  it,  describes  the 
Lord  Jesus  as  seated  on  the  right  hand  of 
God,  "  expecting  till  his  enemies  be  made 
his  footstool."  We  either  are  or  have  been 
his  enemies,  and  there  at  his  footstool  he 
is  expecting  to  see  us.  There  one  day  or 
another  we  shall  assuredly  be.  How  shall 
we  be  there  ?  as  his  willing  subjects  or  his 
unwilling  slaves?  There  are  two  \\ays 
in  which  this  psalm  may  be  fulfilled  in  us— 
we  may  lie  down  before  Ciu-ist,  or  be  beaten 
down.  The  difference  between  these  two 
ways  is  far  greater  than  we  can  imagine. 
It  rests  with  us  to  make  our  choice  between 


THE  l'U>).MI>i:b  CO.MiOKTEli. 


155 


them.  "I  must  in  the  end  bo  at  Christ's 
tbotstool — shall  I  be  there  willing  or  un- 
willing, happy  or  wretched,  lost  or  saved  ? 
The  answer  depends  on  me.  O  thou  bless- 
ed Jesus,  have  mercy  on  me  !  Bow  me 
down  now  beneath  the  power  of  thy  grace, 
that  I  may  not  be  crushed  beneath  the 
power  of  thine  arm  in  the  day  of  thine  ap- 
pearing." 

It  niay  be  that  some  of  you  have  already 
offered  up  for  yourselves  a  prayer  like  this, 
and  that  Christ  is  even  now  beginning  to 
answer  it.  He  is  gradually  bending  you 
down  before  him,  carrying  you  through  that 
discipline  which  will  bring  you  to  his  feet, 
and  in  the  end  make  you  willingly  lie  there. 
Your  sins  are  rising  up  against  you.  You 
carry  about  with  you  day  after  day  dis- 
quieted and  troubled  minds.  You  try  to 
look  death  and  judgment  calmly  in  the 
face,  but  you  cannot.  You  would  say,  were 
you  to  speak  the  truth,  that  you  are  stricken, 
fearful,  and  unhappy  men.  All  this,  dear 
brethren,  may  be  nothing  less  than  an  an- 
swer to  your  own  prayers.  You  may  have 
said  in  some  now  forgotten  hour,  "  Lord, 
make  me  thine  ;"  and  a  blessed  Saviour 
may  have  heard  your  cry,  may  have  laid 
his  hand  on  you,  and  may  have  been  lead- 
ing you  ever  since  step  by  step  to  his  feet. 
And'  what  is  it  to  be  there  ?  It  is  only  to 
submit  yourselves — to  what  ?  to  his  sceptre 
and  rule  ?  No;  this  will  come  after  ;  this, 
I  had  almost  said,  is  an  easy  thing  after 
something  else  is  done — it  is  to  submit 
yourselves  first  to  his  grace,  to  believe  that 
he  has  really  done  all  that  is  needful  for 
your  salvation,  and  abandoning  all  thought 
of  doing  any  thing  yourselves,  to  cast  your- 
selves entirely  on  him,  through  him  to  be 
freely  pardoned,  freely  saved.  Before  he 
ascended  that  lofty  throne,  he  made  a  per- 
feet  propitiation  for  your  sins.  It  cost  him 
more  than  your  heart  can  think  to  make  it ; 
but  he  loves  you  so,  that  he  would  have  let 
it  cost  more,  had  more  been  needed.  With 
your  salvation  in  his  thoughts,  he  would 
never  have  come  down  from  his  cross  could 
he  not  have  said,  "  It  is  finished."  He 
would  never  have  sat  down  on  the  right 
hand  of  God,  if  he  had  not  known  that  his 
work  for  you  was  perfect  before  he  sat 
there.  lie  was  once  your  dying,  he  is  now 
your  ascended  Lord.  You  may  honor  him 
at  once  in  both  these  characters  by  accept- 
ing and  taking  at  his  hands,  through  a  sim- 
pie  faith  in  him,  his  great  salvation.     "  Thy 


p(  o\)\^■  shall  be  willing" — the  first  proof 
we  can  give  of  our  belonging  to  this  willing 
people,  is  our  willingness  to  come  to  this 
blessed  Jesus  as  the  only  and  all-sufficient 
Saviour  of  our  guilty  souls. 


SERMON  XXXIII. 

WHIT-SUNDAY. 

THE  PROMISED  COMFORTER. 

St.  John  xiv.  Ki,  17. — '^  I  will  pray  the  Father, 
and  he  shall  give  you  another  Comforter,  that 
he  may  abide  with  you  for  ever,  even  the  Spirit 
of  truth,  whom  the  world  cannot  receive,  be- 
cause it  seeth  him  not,  neither  knoweth  him  ; 
but  ye  know  him,  for  he  dwelleth  with  you  and 
shall  be  in  you." 

,  This  is  the  testimony  of  God  the  Son  con- 
cerning God  the  Holy  Ghost — a  high  testi- 
mony, brethren,  concerning  a  high  Being. 
May  the  Spirit  himself  raise  up  our  minds 
to  a  right  understanding  of  it ! 

I.  It  tells  us  that  ihe  Holy  Ghost  is  a  per- 
son ;  and  I  advert  to  this  lest  any  of  you 
should  have  taken  up  the  strange,  half 
skeptical  notion,  that  the  Spirit  is  nothing 
more  than  a  divine  attribute  or  influence. 
Let  a  man  of  common  sense  read  this  text, 
and  he  will  say,  I  think,  if  he  is  an  honest 
man,  that  the  Comforter  Christ  speaks  of  in 
it,  must  be  as  really  a  person  as  Christ 
himself.  It  testifies  of  him  not  as  a  thing, 
but  as  a  living  Being.  He  is  not  called 
comfort  in  it,  but  a  Comforter ;  he  is  not 
truth,  but  the  Spirit  of  truth.  And  if  this 
is  not  enough,  turn  only  to  the  beginning 
of  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  this  gospel. 
There  he  is  said  to  "  come,"  to  "  reprove," 
to  '•  hear,"  to  "  sjxjak,"  to  "  receive" — all 
personalacts,  and  involving,  if  any  act  can 
do  so,  a  real,  personal  existence. 

II.  The  Holy  Spirit  is  a  divine  person; 
he  is  really  God.  This,  though  not  assert- 
ed in  the  text,  is  fairly  to  be  deduced  fron-; 
it. 

Our  Lord's  object  is  to  comfort  his  dis- 
ciples in  an  hour  of  peculiar  sorrow — he  is 
going  awav  from  them  ;  and  what  he  tolls 
thoiu  with  this  object  in  view,  is  that  when 
he  is  gone,  he  will  pray  the  Father  to  sent* 
some  one  else  to  them,  "  another  Comfort- 
er."    It  is  plain  then  that  he  considers  this 


156 


THE  PROMISED  COMFORTER. 


new  Comforter  quite  equal  to  liirnsolf,  and 
feels  sure  that  his  disciples  will  find  him 
so.  Nay,  he  tells  them  in  the  sixteenth 
chapter,  that  they  will  gain  by  the  ex- 
change. "  It  is  expedient  for  you,"  he 
says,  "  that  I  go  away,  for  if  I  go  not  away, 
the  Comforter  will  not  come  "unto  you.'" 
Who  then,  we  may  ask,  was  Christ  ?  He 
has  just  told  his  disciples  that  he  is  one 
with  the  Father.  This  Holy  Spirit  there- 
fi)re,  we  infor,  is  one  with  the  Father  also ; 


hot!)  he  and  the  eternal  Son  constituting 
with  the  Father  the  everlasting  Godhead" 
or  rather  they  are  that  Godhead,  manifested 
to  us  now  in  one  way  and  now  in  another; 
now  to  be  seen,  embodied  in  human  flesh, 
and  now  to  be  felt,  working  within  our 
hearts. 

But  the  Deity  of  the  Holy  Ghost  does  not 
rest  on  such  reasoning  as  this  only ;  it  is 
revealed  to  us  in  scripture  in  the  plainest 
manner.  The  same  names  are  applied  to 
him,  that  are  applied  to  God  ;  the  same  in- 
finite perfections  attributed,  the  same  works 
ascribed,  and  the  same  worship  enjoined. 
To  be  born  of  the  Spirit,  is  to  be  born  of 
(;«od  ;  to  lie  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  is  to  lie  unto 
God  ;  the  mind  of  God,  which  is  known 
only  to  God  himself,  this  Spirit  knows 
and  knows  perfectly.  "  He  searcheth  all 
things,"  says  Paul,  "  yea,  the  deep  things 
of  God."  Are  these  a  creature's  honors, 
bretiiren,  or  a  creature's  claims?  No 
more  than  they' are  yours  or  mine. 

III.  Bearing  in  mind  then  that  the  Spirit 
is  a  person,  not  a  thing,  and  a  divine  per- 
son, not  a  creature,  we  may  pass  on  to  an- 
other remark — he  is  the  Father's  gift  to  the 
chvrch  through  the  intercession  of  the  Son  ; 
"I  will  pray  the  Father,  and  he  shall  give 
you  another  Comforter." 

It  is  difficult  to  speak  on  a  point  like  this, 
without  speaking  amiss.  There  is  a  dan- 
ger of  our  dividing  the  everlasting  God- 
head, and  making  one  person  in  it  inferior 
to  the  others.  But  an  humble  heart  will 
guard  us  against  this  danger.  You  and  I, 
brethren,  are  thinking  now  of  a  Being  whom 
angels  think  of  without  comprehending. 
He  is  not  only  so  vast,  that  our  minds  can- 
not take  him  in,  but  so  high  above  us,  of  a 
nature  and  essence  so  exalted,  that  we  can- 
not rise  up  to  him,  we  cannot  fully  take  in 
any  part  of  him.  If  he  .speaks  to  us  there- 
fore of  himself,  he  must  accommodate  his 
language  to  our  capacities,  and  we  must 
regard  it  as  .so  accommodated.      We  shall  I 


to  pro- 
represented 


thus  be  kept,  on  Jie  one  hand,  from  rashly 
ascribing  to  it  a  strictness  of  meaning  it 
was  never  intended  to  bear,  and,  on  the 
other,  from  explaining  it  away  altotjether, 
and  thus  rejecting  the  truth  it  is  de'signed 
to  convey. 

In  a  gracious  condescension  to  us,  it  has 
pleased  Jehovah  frequently  to  sp^ak  of  two 
Persons  in  the  Godhead  as  subordinate  to 
the  other  in  accomplishing  our  salvation. 
While  he  represents  the  Father  as  the 
source  of  all  authority  and  blessing,  the 
Son  he  describes  as  the  Father's  Servant 
and  Messenger,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  as  his 
instrument.  He  is  said  to  send  them  both 
into  the  world,  and  to  assign  them  their 
work  in  it.  The  Holy  Ghost'is  said 
ceed  from  him,  and  here  he  is 
as  about  to  give  him. 

And  there  is  this  truth  also  to  be  remem- 
bered—all  the   blessings  the  eternal  God 
conveys  to  sinners,  he  conveys  through  his 
exalted  Son.     He  not  only  rules  the  world 
by  him,  bu*  he  blesses  the  world  by  him. 
It  is  his  will  therefore  that  the  world  shall 
look  to  the  Lord  Jesus  as  the  channel  of 
all   his  mercies.     And  what  does  he  do  ? 
"  I  will  not  pour  out  my  Spirit,"  he  says, 
"  on  my  church  till  my  well-beloved  Son 
sits  down  at  my  right  hand.     Some  drops 
of  my  grace  shall  fall  secretly  there,  but 
the  open  and  abundant  shower  I  will  with- 
hold.     The  Holy  Ghost  shall  go  down  to 
that  guilty  world  as  purchased  for  it  by  its 
Redeemer's  blood,  obtained  for  it  by  his  in- 
tercession, sent  thither  by   his  authority, 
and   commissioned   to  work   there,  in   the 
hearts  of  his  people,   his  sovereign   will. 
All   men  shall  honor  my  Son  even" as  they 
honor  me.     My  Holy  Spirit  shall  go  Ifither 
and  thither  at  his  bidding,  and  be  restrained, 
or  poured  out  in  all  the  plenitude  of  bis 
grace,  at  his  command."     Hence  our  Lord 
says  in  the  next  chapter,  not  tliat  he  will 
pray  for  the  Comforter,  but  that  he   will 
send  the  Comforter  to  his  church,  and  Pe- 
ter  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  Mhen  filled  Mith 
the  Spirit,  ascribes  the  sending  forth  of  the 
Spirit  to  him.     "  Being  by  the  right  hand 
of  God  exalted,"  he  saVs,  "  and  having  re- 
ceived  of  the  Father 'the   promise  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  he  hath  .shed  forth  this  wliich 
ye  now  sec  and  hear."     A  most  glorious 
truth  !     How  it  comforts  the  heart,  breth- 
ren, to  reflect  that  even  the   Godhead    is 
placed,  as  it  were,  in  tiie  hands  of  our  as- 
cended Master.     It  is  not  our  fellow-men 


THE  I'FIUMISEL)  COMFORTER. 


157 


and  angels  only,  that  he  can  move  to  do  us 
service  ;  God  himself,  the  Father  and  the 
Spirit,  are  willing  to  do  or  give  us  any 
thing  at  his  word. 

And  here  again  is  the  whole  Godhead 
represented  to  us  as  at  work  and  combining 
for  our  benefit — the  Sou  praying  for  the 
Spirit  for  us,  the  Father  giving  the  Spirit 
to  us,  and  the  Spirit  coming  to  us — all  tell- 
innf  us  tiiat  God  is  well  pleased  to  bless  us 
and  comfort  us,  that  he  is  blessing  us  with 
the  full  power  of  his  nature.  The  Trinity 
in  unity  is  no  merely  theoretical,  abstract, 
cold  truth  ;  it  is  full  of  life,  and  power,  and 
consolation  to  the  soul,  when  the  soul 
rightly  receives  it. 

But  turn  again  to  the  text. 

IV.  We  learn  from  it  further,  that  the 
trorld  rejects  the  Spirit,  while  the  true  disci- 
ples of  Christ  receive  him. 

"The  world  cannot  Receive  him,"  our 
Lord  says,  and  why  not  ?  Oh  how  the 
world  needs  him  !  It  is  lying  in  wicked- 
ness and  perishing  in  ignorance,  and  he  is 
the  only  Being  in  the  universe,  who  can 
raise  it  out  of  its  wickedness  and  enlighten 
its  ignorance.  But  the  world  will  have 
nothing  to  do  with  him.  When  he  spake 
by  the  prophets,  "  Who,"  they  were  forced 
to  sav,  "  hath  believed  our  report  ?"  When 
he  spake  by  the  apostles,  the  men  of  the 
world  for  the  greater  part  cast  his  words 
behind  them.  And  it  is  just  the  same  now. 
The  world  does  not  and  will  not  receive  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Many  of  you  will  not  receive 
him.  You  will  stand  up  here  and  say  you 
believe  in  him,  you  will  listen  to  sermons 
concerning  him  ;  but  as  for  opening  your 
hearts  to  admit  the  Spirit  there  in  all  his 
humbling,  mortifying,  self-subduing  and 
sin-subduing  power,  you  never  think  of  it. 
This  forms  no  part  of  your  Christianity. 
Your  hearts  are  as  close  shut  against  the 
Holy  Ghost,  as  though  he  were  a  tormentor 
instead  of  a  Comforter,  Satan  instead  of  God. 

And  how  is  this  ?  Our  Lord  partly  ex- 
plains it.  He  says  the  world  will  not  re- 
ceive him,  "  because  it  seeth  him  not,  nei- 
ther  knoweth  him."  It  cannot  see  him,  for 
he  is  not  visible  to  mortal  eyes  ;  and  it 
does  not  know  him,  for  he  can  never  be 
known  till  he  is  received.  Our  acquaint- 
ance with  him  must  begin  within.  It  is  an 
inward  experience  of  his  grace  and  power, 
that  brings  a  man  really  acquainted  with 
the  Holy  Ghost.  It  is  thus,  Christ  says  in 
the  text,  his  people  know  him — "  he  dwell- 


eth"  in  them:  thence  comes  their  knowl- 
edge of  him.  They  once  knew  no  more  oi* 
him  than  the  world  knows,  but  he  entered 
their  hearts,  and  now,  though  they  do  not 
see  him,  they  are  become  ac(|uaintcd  with 
him.  Their  knowledge  of  him  is  some- 
thing like  the  knowledge  which  a  blind  man 
gets  in  the  sunshine  of  the  sun  that  warms 
iiim,  or  like  that  which  a  man  just  recov- 
ered from  a  death-like  swoon,  has  of  the 
cordial  that  revives  him.  It  is  an  experi- 
mental, heart-felt  knowledge,  and  in  the 
end  a  most  pleasant  and  joyful  one. 

And,  observe,  this  knowledge  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  is  decisive  of  our  si)iritual 
character.  I  am  not  speaking  to  you  about 
a  trifle.  Our  Lord  draws  in  the  text  a 
broad  line  between  his  disciples  and  all 
other  men,  and  the  distinction  he  makes  be- 
tween them  is  simply  this — his  disciples 
know  the  Holy  Ghost,  others  do  not  know 
him  ;  his  disciples  have  received  the  Holy 
Ghost,  others  have  not  received  him.  Are 
you  Christians  indeed  ?  Then  the  Holy 
Spirit  is  within  your  hearts,  working  and 
dwelling  there.  Are  you  ignorant  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  ?  unacquainted  with  his  life- 
giving  influence,  and  almost  in  doubt  wheth- 
er there  be  any  Holy  Ghost  ?  Then  read 
this  scripture,  and  draw  from  it  your  own 
conclusion.  Do  not  despise  it.  It  is  not  a 
part  of  the  sermon  you  are  hearing.  It  is 
something  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  has  said, 
he  whom  you  profess  to  believe  in  and 
honor.  It  is  something  he  came  down  from 
heaven  to  declare.  It  is  one  of  the  faithful 
and  true  sayings  of  the  living  God.  O 
what  a  blessed  sabbath  might  this  be  to 
some  of  you,  if  you  would  pray,  "  Lord, 
make  me  to  understand  this  text !  O  give 
me  a  heart  really  to  believe  it !  If  it  con- 
denms  me,  let  me  know  it.  There  is  still 
mercy  with  thee,  and  I  may  find  it.  Bet- 
ter to  be  condemned  now  of  my  own  con- 
science, than  to  be  condemned  hereafter  of 
thee." 

V.  We  may  go  on  now  to  another  truth 
— wherever  the  Holy  Spirit  is  received,  tCe  is 
a  Comforter. 

Twice  in  this  chapter  he  is  called  by  this 
name.  The  same  name  is  applied  to  him  in 
the  next  chapter  and  also  in  the  succeeding 
one.  And  we  may  see  in  it  the  pity  and 
love  of  Christ.  His  disciples  were  now 
much  cast  down,  for  he  had  just  told  them 
he  was  going  to  leave  them.  To  console 
them,  he  promises  to  send  them  the  Spirit 


158 


THE  PROMISED  CO!MFORTER. 


to  abide  with  them 
and  in  doinc  so,  h( 

one  act  or  operation  of  the  Spirit,  which  he 
knew  Mould  meet  their  present  feelings. 
He  calls  nim  the  Comforter.  It  was  com- 
fort they  needed,  and  a  Comforter,  he  tells 
them,  they  shall  have.  We  infer  then  from 
his  words  that  one  main  part  of  the  Spirit's 
work  is  to  comfort  the  sorrowful. 

Comfort  implies  sorrow.  It  presupposes 
trouble  of  some  kind  either  felt  or  feared. 
The  real  followers  of  Christ  know  much  of 
this,  more  than  other  men  ;  and  there  is 
comfort  provided  for  them  more  than  for 
other  men,  and  a  special  Comforter.  The 
Father  indeed  comforts  them.  He  is  called 
"  the  God  of  all  comfort"  and  "  the  God  of 
consolation."  The  Lord  Jesus  comforts 
them.  He  is  called  "  the  Consolation  of 
Israel."  But  this  is  not  enough.  It  is 
made  the  peculiar  province  of  "the  Holy 
G.'iost,  his  special  emjiloyment  on  earth,  to 
watch  over  the  comfort  of  the  people  of  God. 
He  is  emphatically  the  Comforter.  Friends 
comfort,  ministers  ccmf)rt,  the  scriptures 
comfort,  providence  comforts,  the  cross  of 
Christ  comforts,  and  the  tlirone  of  Christ 
comforts;  but  not  one  of  all  these  comforts 
without  the  Spirit,  and  none  like  the  Spirit. 
And  this  these  disciples  of  our  Lord  soon 
felt  and  understood.  They  were  made 
happier  by  him  Avhen  their  Master  was 
gone,  than  they  had  ever  been  in  their  Mas- 
ter's presence!  They  were  happier  in 
Jewish  prisons  and  Gentile  bonds,  in  the 
thick  of  afflictions,  with  Christ  out  of  their 
sight,  than  they  were  with  Christ  by  their 
side  in  security  and  quiet.  He  held  back 
from  them  for  a  while  the  consolations  he 
was  well  able  to  give  them.  It  was  his  good 
pleasure  to  honor  the  Spirit  ;  he  therefore 
leaves  it  to  the  Spirit  to  impart  these  conso- 
lations to  them. 

And  see  in  this  text  how  well  qualified 
the  Spirit  is  to  fulfil  this  blessed  work.  He 
is  a  divine  13eing,  and  he  can  give  divine, 
efTectnal  comfort.  All  the  bliss  of  heaven 
is  al  his  disposal,  and  he  can  take  as  much 
of  it  as  he  pleases,  and  give  us  as  much 
as  he  pleases,  and  after  we  have  receiv- 
ed this,  he  can  take  more  and  more,  and 
give  us  more  and  more  as  our  sorrows  rise. 
They  must  rise  higher  than  the  joy  of  heav- 
en before  they  can  exceed  his  power  to 
comfort.  And  mark — he  dwells  and  abides 
in  us.  Our  neighbors  can  come  to  us  in 
our  trouble,  and  take  words  of  comfort  and 


nd  supply  his  place  ;  i  kindly  address  them  to  us  ;  but  our  neigh- 
speaks  chiefly  of  that  bors  are  outside  us,  they  speak  to  our  out- 
ward  senses  only,  and  very  often  their  com- 
fort  goes  no  further  :  it  does  not  penetrate. 
The  Holy  Spirit  enters  within,  and  takes 
heavenly  consolations  with  him  there.  He 
speaks  to  the  heart,  and  makes  the  heart 
listen  to  him,  and  warm  as  it  listens,  and 
bless  him.  He  opens  the  heart  and  pours 
consolation  into  it ;  he  enlarges  the  heart, 
that  it  may  receive  more  and  more  consola- 
tion ;  he  elevates  the  heart,  that  it  may  rise 
to  the  high  happiness  he  is  able  to  impart 
to  it.  If  he  comforts,  the  heart  is  peaceful  ; 
if  he  comforts  not,  it  knows  no  peace.  And 
the  real  Christian  soon  learns  this.  Show 
me  a  man  who  despises  this  Comforter  or 
thinks  little  of  him,  I  know  at  once  that  he 
is  a  stranger  to  all  elevated  Christian  joy. 
Show  me  a  man  who  loves  and  at  )res  liim, 
there  is  a  man  who  has  either  rejoiced 
greatly  in  the  Lord  or  soon  Mill  do  so. 
He  has  experienced  the  Spirit's  power,  and 
that  has  taught  him  the  Spirit's  excellence 
and  glory. 

But  how  does  the  Spirit  comfort  ?     Tlie 

scripture  before  us  M'iil  ansM'er  the  question. 

VI.  We   learn  from    it   this   one   thing 

more — wherever  the  Spirit  comforts,  he  cant 

forts  ly  means  of  the  truth. 

Two  names,  you  observe,  are  applied  to 
him  here  ;  he  is  "  the  Comforter"  and  he 
is  also  "the  Spirit  of  truth."  And  this  is 
not  a  merely  accidental  bringing  together  of 
these  names,  for  they  occur" together  again 
in  the  twenty-sixth  verse  of  the  next  chap- 
ter, and  yet  again  in  the  beginning  of  the 
chapter  folloM-nig.  He  is  called  "  the  Com- 
forter" in  the  seventh  verse,  "  the  Spirit  of 
truth"  in  the  thirteenth.  It  is  clear  then 
that  there  is  some  connection  between  the 
comfort  he  imparts  and  the  truth  he  com- 
municates ;  in  other  words,  he  imparts 
comfort  by  communicating  truth.  He  is 
an  eftectual  Comforter,  for  he  is  an  effectual 
Teacher.  Instruction  and  consolation  are 
indeed  different  things  ;  they  do  not  always 
go  together  ;  yet,  in  this  case,  thev  do  jjo 
together,  or  soon  follow  one  another.  The 
understanding  receives  tlie  truth  by  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  then  the 
heart  feels,  by  the  same  power,  the  consol- 
ing virtue  of  it.  You  Mill  accordingly  find 
that  throughout  this  lengthened  discourse, 
the  Lord  Jesus  speaks  one  moment  of  the 
Spirit  as  comforting,  and  the  next  of  the 
Spirit  as  teaching.     And  our  church  speaks 


CHRIST  THE  LIGHT  OF  HEAVEN. 


59 


attcr  the  same  manner  in  the  collect  for 
this  clay  ;  "  God,  who  didst  teach  the  hearts 
of  thy  faithful  people  by  the  sending  to  them 
the  light  of  thy  Holy  Spirit,  grant  us  by  the 
same  Spirit  to  have  a  right  judgment  in  all 
things,  and  evermore  to  rejoice  in  his  holy 
comfort." 

Tills  truth,  brethren,  is  one  of  much  prac- 
tical importance.  You  complain  perhaps 
of  your  want  of  spiritual  consolation.  Let 
me  ask,  whence  do  you  expect  it  to  come  ? 
You  will  say,  From  the  Holy  Ghost.  But 
I  ask  again,  what  kind  of  consolation  do 
you  ?xpect  from  him  ?  Joyful  feelings 
springing  up  in  your  minds  you  know  not 
how  or  why,  feelings  for  which  you  cannot 
account  ?  such  joy  as  the  birds  of  the  air 
feel  as  they  sing,  or  as  the  child  feels  as  it 
springs  and  bounds  ?  Then  you  will  be 
disappointed,  or  worse — you  will  be  delud- 
ed. The  Spirit  has  no  such  joy  to  give. 
His  consolations  are  based  on  God's  word  ; 
they  spring  out  of  God's  declarations  and 
promises  ;  they  are  the  result  of  a  right 
understanding  and  a  heart-felt  belief  of 
God's  glorious  gospel.  They  are  as  rational 
as  they  are  sweet.  The  man  who  enjo3fs 
them,  can  account  for  them.  A  happy 
Christian  is  no  enthusiast ;  he  is  one  of  the 
most  reasonable  men  in  the  world.  Ask 
him  why  he  is  happy,  and  he  will  open  I«.is 
Bible  and  point  to  some  truth  there  enough 
to  make  any  man  happy.  The  Holy  Spirit 
has  carried  it  home  to  his  heart ;  and  were 
it  carried  home  in  the  same  way  to  your 
heart  or  ten  thousand  hearts,  it  would  make 
them  all  happy,  and  must  make  them  so ; 
for  what  is  God's  truth  as  revealed  to  us  in 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  ?  It  is  glad 
tidings  ;  the  gospel  of  peace,  of  hope,  conso- 
lation, and  joy.  It  proclaims  through  Christ 
pardon  to  the  condemned,  salvation  to  the 
lost,  life  for  the  dead.  Here  is  hope,  it 
says,  for  the  despairing,  help  for  the  help- 
less, joy  for  the  joyless,  heaven  for  them 
that  are  nigh  unto  hell.  Besides,  the  truth 
sanctifies,  and  holiness  is  happiness. 

It  is  quite  true,  brethren,  that  a  man  is 
sometimes  made  thoroughly  wretched  at 
first  by  this  gospel.  The  Spirit  disquiets 
before  he  comforts.  But  this  is  not  the 
gospel's  fault  nor  the  Comforter's.  Men 
are  living  in  error,  comforting  themselves 
with  delusions,  and  the  truth  undeceives 
them.  They  are  propping  themselves  up 
with  lies,  and  the  truth  knocks  their  props 
avay.      The   application   of  the    remedy 


makes  men  feel  their  disease,  and  when  sin 
is  that  disease,  no  wonder  they  are  misera- 
ble. Ask  me  what  the  Spirit  would  do  now 
with  some  of  you,  were  he  to  begin  to  com- 
fort  you  ;  I  would  say,  he  would  send  you 
from  this  church  with  some  impression  from 
this  sermon  more  painful  than  you  ever  re- 
ceived from  sermon  yet,  and  an  impression 
which  vou  could  neither  laugh  away,  nor 
think  away,  nor  get  into  the  world  and 
wear  away.  The  truth  would  make  you 
miserable,  for  it  would  take  away  all  your 
false  happiness ;  and  angels  would  rejoice 
to  see  you  miserable,  and  God  himself 
would  rejoice.  They  would  well  know 
where  such  misery  would  end.  The  S[)irit 
would  soon  bring  you  acquainted  with  the 
great  cure  for  all  misery,  the  gospel  of 
Jesus  Christ — blood  tliat  cleanses  from  all 
sin,  a  righteousness  that  hides  all  infirmi- 
ties, grace  so  free  that  all  may  have  it, 
grace  so  abundant  that  nothing  is  wanting 
in  it,  grace  so  lasting  that  eternity  never 
ends  it. 


SERMON  XXXIV. 

TRINITY    SUNDAY. 

CHRIST  THE  LIGHT  OF  HEAVEN. 

Revelation  xxi.  23. — "  The  city  had  no  need  of 
the  sun,  neither  of  the  moon,  to  shine  in  it;  for 
the  glory  of  God  did  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb 
is  the  light  thereof." 

This  city,  strictly  speaking,  has  no  real 
existence.  It  is  of  a  symbolical  or  typical 
character.  And  there  is  a  difierence  of 
opinion  as  to  what  it  prefigures.  Some 
refer  it  to  the  church  in  her  millennial 
glory;  others  apply  it  to  heaven.  The 
probability  is,  that  it  represents  both.  Just 
as  our  Lord  speaks  of  the  destrHction  of 
Jerusalem  and  the  end  of  the  world  as  one 
event,  because  he  saw  between  these  two 
events  a  close  resemblance,  so  here,  and 
perhaps  for  the  same  reason,  one  symbol  is 
made  to  answer  to  the  millennium  and 
heaven.  The  one  will  resemble  the  other. 
One  picture,  therefore,  the  Holy  Spirit 
says,  shall  serve  for  both  ;  one  vision  of 
splendor  shall  predict  both.  He  accord- 
ingly places  before  us,  in  this  chapter,  a 
glorious  and  happy  city,  and  bids  us  see 


160 


CHRIST  THE  LIGHT  OF  HEAVEN. 


in  it  what  in  future  ages  the  cliurch  shall 
be,  partially  in  this  world,  completely  in 
another.  Let  us  try  to  look  at  it  to-day  in 
its  highest  character.  Indeed  the  words 
before  us  require  us  to  do  so.  They  speak 
of  heaven,  and,  in  their  full  sense,  of  heav- 
en only.  May  God  grant  that  they  may 
raise  our  thoughts  to  that  blessed  world, 
open  to  us  some  of  its  glories,  and  make  us 
long  to  be  in  it ! 

They  give  us  three  particulars  to  con- 
sider— first,  what  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is 
in  heaven  ;  secondly,  what  he  is  to  heav- 
en ;  and,  thirdly,  the  blessedness  of  heav- 
en in  consequence  of  what  he  is  in  it  and 
to  it. 

I.  The  text  tells  us  tchat  Christ  is  in 
heaven. 

He  is  the  Son  of  Man,  it  says  ;  for  it 
calls  him  "  the  Lamb,"  the  same  name 
that  was  applied  to  him  in  his  human  na- 
ture on  earth,  and  a  name  which  will  not 
admit  of  being  applied  to  him  as  the  ever- 
lasting God.  It  involves  in  it  an  idea,  not 
at  variance  with  divinity,  but  yet  quite  for- 
eign to  it.  It  intimates  something  visible 
and  tangible,  something  that  the  creature's 
eye  can  rest  on,  and  the  creature's  under- 
standing grasp ;  something  allied  to  the 
creature's  nature,  brought  within  his  ideas 
and  range  ;  not  the  invisible,  incomprehen- 
sible Jehovah,  but  the  real,  substantial, 
approachable  Son  of  Man. 

And  then  further,  this  name  sets  him 
forth  as  retaining  in  heaven  the  marks  of 
his  sufferings  on  earth.  He  is  there,  it 
says,  as  the  once  crucified  Son  of  Man,  for 
why  otherwise  is  he  called  "the  Lamb  ?" 
Why  was  he  called  by  this  name  on  earth? 
Doubtless  because  he  was  to  be  an  ofiering 
and  a  sacrifice  to  God.  And  why  in  heav- 
en, but  because  he  is  recognised  in  heaven 
as  one  who  has  been  a  sacrifice  ?  Turn 
to  the  fifth  chapter  of  this  book.  "  I  be- 
held," says  St.  John,  "  and,  lo,  in  the  midst 
of  the  throne  and  of  the  four  beasts,  and  in 
the  midst  of  the  elders,  stood  a  Lamb  as  it 
had  been  slain."  And  this  circumstance, 
observe,  is  not  lost  on  the  worshippers 
around.  "  Thou  wast  slain,"  they  cry, 
angels  and  saints.  Twice  in  the  song  that 
follows,  they  speak  of  him  as  slain,  and 
seem  to  ground  on  this  fact  much  of  their 
adoration  and  praise. 

And  this  teaches  us,  Christian  brethren, 
not  only  the  blessed  truth  that  we  shall  see  i 
in   heaven  the  Saviour  who  bled  for   us,  I 


but  that  we  shall  see  him  as  the  Savioui 
I  who  bled  for  us  ;  we  shall  never  look  on 
[  him  without  beholding  in  him  that  which 
will  remind  us  of  his  dying  love.  It  tells 
us  that  not  only  shall  we  live  ih  heaven  in 
a  peculiar  character,  as  redeemed  sinners  ; 
but  that  he  also  will  appear  there  in  a  pe- 
culiar character,  and  that  a  character  har- 
monizing with  ours,  as  the  Lord  who  re- 
deemed us ;  as  the  sinner's  Lord  and  the 
sinner's  God  ;  as  one  who  delights  in  the 
relation  in  which  he  stands  towards  us, 
and  will  not  put  it  off  even  when  we  are 
redeemed  and  his  work  is  done. 

But  again — our  Lord  is  styled  also  in 
this  text  "  the  glory  of  God."  I  say,  our 
Lord  is  so  styled,  because  it  seems  quite 
evident  that  the  glory  of  God  and  the  Lamb 
mean  here  one  and  the  same  object.  The 
same  efiect  or  work  is  ascribed  to  both. 
"  The  glory  of  God,"  it  is  said,  "  did  light 
en  the  city  ;"  and  then  it  is  added  immedi- 
ately, "  The  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof." 
And  look  to  the  preceding  verse.  The 
Lord  God  almighty  and  the  Lamb  are 
connected  there  in  precisely  the  same  way 
as  here ;  "  I  saw  no  temple  therein  ;  for 
the  Lord  God  almighty  and  the  Lamb  are 
the  temple  of  it."  And  then  again  in  tl>e 
beginning  of  the  next  chapter,  one  throne 
is  twice  spoken  of  as  the  throne  of  both, 
and  a  pronoun  of  the  singular  number  is 
made  to  comprehend  both  ;  "  The  throne 
of  God  and  of  the  Lamb  shall  be  in  it ; 
and  his  servants  shall  serve  him,  and  they 
shall  see  his  face."  The  apostle  evidently 
speaks  as  though  by  God  and  the  Lamb  he 
meant  the  same  Person ;  as  though  he 
could  not  separate  them  in  his  mind  ;  as 
though,  in  fact,  they  had  been  presented 
to  him  in  this  vision  but  as  one  object,  and 
were  but  one  object.  And  we  are  to  infer 
more  from  this,  than  that  the  ascended  Je- 
sus is  acknowledged  in  heaven  to  be  God 
and  Lord  ;  we  are  warranted  to  infer  that 
no  other  God  or  Lord  is  seen  or  thought  of 
in  heaven  ;  and  more  also — that  Christ's 
human  nature  is  as  complete  a  manifesta- 
tion of  the  divine  glory  as  even  heaven  it- 
self can  understand  or  bear. 

We  can  hardly  believe  this  truth,  breth- 
ren. We  conceive  that  Christ  is  a  light 
only  to  this  dark  world  ;  that  it  is  with  a 
reference  to  our  excessive  ignorance  only 
and  darkness,  that  he  is  spoken  of  in  scrip- 
ture as  so  bright  a  revelation  of  the  unseen 
Jehovah.      But  take  us  out  of  this  dark 


CHRIST  THE  LIGHT  OF  HEAVEN. 


161 


world  ;  place  us  in  a  world  of  light  and 
beauty,  a  world  where  suns  are  not  needed 
and  moons  could  not  shine  ;  lift  us  up  to 
h''aven  and  give  us  there  heavenly  minds 
ami  powers;  we  shall  see  in  heaven  no 
spectacle  so  glorious  as  the  once  crucified 
Sou  of  Man.  We  shall  not  want  to  see 
any.  God  will  shine  forth  in  him  with  a 
radiance  that  will  stretch  every  faculty  of 
our  souls  to  contemplate  it,  and  with  a 
rn;ijesty  which  we  shall  every  moment  feel 
to  he  divine.  It  is  not  our  ignorance  here, 
tliat  invests  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  with  so 
much  glory  here,  just  as  a  glimmering 
taper  is  a  brilliant  object  in  a  dark  room  ; 
it  is  our  ignorance  and  our  distance  from 
him,  that  hide  from  us  here  so  much  of  his 
glory.  We  are  men  more  than  lialf  blind 
looking  up  through  vapors  and  clouds  at 
the  glorious  sun. 

II.  And  now  we  are  brought  to  our  sec- 
ond point — tchat  Christ  is  to  heaven.  He 
is  in  it  as  tlie  Son  of  Man,  the  once  cruci- 
fied Sm  of  Man,  the  glory  of  God  ;  he  is 
to  it  a  light,  and  all  tlie  light  it  has  ;  "  The 
glory  of  God  did  ligiiten  it,  and  the  Lamb 
is  the  light  thereof." 

Now  it  has  been  said,  and  the  saying 
has  been  often  echoed  and  conmiended, 
that  the  utmost  ideas  we  can  obtain  of  heav- 
en are  mainly  of  a  negative  character  ; 
that,  in  our  present  state,  we  must  nover 
hope  to  understand  at  all  what  heaven  is, 
we  can  do  no  more  than  understand  what 
it  is  not.  But  surely  this  is  a  very  low 
and  unscriptural  view  of  this  subject. 
Much  evil  too  arises  from  it.  It  removes 
heaven  .so  far  from  us,  places  such  a  gulf 
between  us  and  it,  that  we  never  try  to 
realize  it,  never  get  familiar  with  the  idea 
of  it,  never  feel  at  home  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  it,  never  become,  in  fact,  heavenly- 
minded.  The  Bible  speaks  a  difTerent 
language.  While  it  tells  us  plainly  that 
we  never  can  comprehend  fully  the  bless- 
edness of  heaven,  that  our  iiighest  concep- 
tions of  it  in  our  happiest  moments  fall  im- 
measurably short  of  its  loftiness,  it  yet  aims, 
it  almost  labors,  to  give  us  some  ideas  of 
it.  It  talks  of  it,  and  describes  it,  and 
paints  it,  and  employs  figure  after  figure 
to  set  it  forth  ;  and  all  to  bring  us  to  some 
conception  of  its  nature,  and  to  carry  up 
our  minds  to  it.  True,  it  employs  nega- 
tives, but  it  does  not  stop  at  negatives. 
Look  at  the  next  chapter.  "  There  shall 
be  no  night  there,"  it  says  of  this  city,  no 
21 


darkness,  nothing  of  which  darkness  or 
night  is  an  emblem — here  is  the  negative 
character  of  heaven  ;  but  the  description 
goes  on  ;  "  There  shall  be  light  there,"  it 
says,  and  glorious  liglit.  "  Think,"  it  says 
first,  "of  the  inconveniences  and  miseries 
of  darkness — you  shall  experience  nothing 
like  them  in  heaven.  And  now  think  of 
the  comforts,  and  joys,  and  advantages,  of 
light  and  day — in  heaven  you  shall  expe- 
rience them  all." 

There  are  two  ideas  generally  connected 
with  the  word  "light"  in  scripture,  when 
used  in  a  spiritual  sense — one  primary 
idea,  knowledge,  because  light  shows  us 
things  as  they  are  ;  and  then  a  secondary 
idea,  joy,  because  a  right  knowledge  of 
spiritual  things  imparts  joy.  When,  there- 
fore,  we  are  told  that  there  is  light  in  heaven, 
that  God  dwells  in  light  there,  that  the 
inheritance  of  the  saints  there  is  an  inherit- 
ance in  light,  we  are  to  understand  that 
heaven  is  a  world  of  knowledge,  and  such 
knowledge  as  gives  rise  to  pleasure  and 
joy;  that  we  shall  not  lose  our  character 
as  intellectual  beings  there  ;  that  our  minds 
and  understandings  will  go  with  us  to  heav- 
en, and  be  called  into  exercise  in  heaven, 
and  have  every  thing  brought  before  them, 
that  can  expand,  and  elevate,  and  delight 
them.  Here  on  earth  the  Christian  is  not 
a  creature  of  mere  feelings  or  sensations, 
of  joys  coming  he  knows  not  whence  nor 
how  ;  he  is  not  a  mystic  or  enthusiast ;  he 
is  a  sober-minded,  rational  man,  more  so 
in  his  religion  perhaps  than  in  any  thing 
else.  In  heaven  he  will  rise  higher  still 
in  spiritual  understanding.  lie  will  com- 
prebend  the  happiness  that  fills  him.  It 
will  all  /low  from  knowledge  imparted  to 
liim,  from  knowledge  received  by  an  active, 
vigorous  understanding  into  a  clear,  holy, 
and  enlarged  mind. 

But  whence  is  this  knowledge  to  come  ? 
The  text  tells  us.  It  traces  it,  observe,  to 
the  glorified  Jesus  as  its  source.  God  in 
Christ,  it  says,  and  in  Christ  as  the  Son  of 
Man,  is  the  author  of  it. 

"  The  city  had  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither 
of  the  moon,  to  shine  in  it."  In  this  im- 
perfect state  of  the  church,  we  need  the  sun 
and  the  moon,  all  the  help  we  can  obtain. 
We  want  the  assistance  of  created  things 
to  impart  knowledge  and  joy  to  us — scrip- 
tures, and  ministers,  and  sacraments,  and 
ordinances.  But  not  so  in  heaven.  All 
these  things  will  have  passed  away.     Christ 


162 


CHRIST  THE  LIGHT  OF  HEAVEN. 


himself  will  teach  us,  teach  tis  and  bless 
us  by  himself,  without  any  inferior  helps, 
without  any  veil  between  him  and  us.  He 
will  hold  out  the  blessing  to  us  with  his 
own  hand,  and  with  our  own  unworthy 
hands  w^e  shall  take  it  from  him.  Why 
had  the  city  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of 
the  moon,  to  shine  in  it  ?  It  is  because 
"  the  glo:/  of  God  did  lighten  it,  and  the 
Lamb  is  the  light  thereof."  And  this  idea 
runs  through  this  whole  book,  and  indeed 
through  all  scripture.  We  are  taught  that 
as  the  beginnings  of  grace  on  earth  are 
Christ's  workmanship,  so  the  perfections  of 
grace  in  glory  will  be  his  workmanship 
also  ;  that  as  he  is  all  in  all  to  us  here,  so 
he  will  be  all  in  all  to  us  there  ;  that  as 
even  now,  whatever  channels  may  be  em- 
ployed  to  convey  blessings  to  us,  all  "our 
fresh  springs,"  our  sources  of  blessedness, 
are  in  him,  so  hereafter  our  happiness  when 
complete  will  lie  in  him  ;  he  will  be  the 
one  great  spring  of  our  pleasure,  our  glory, 
and  our  joy  ;  the  fountain  of  our  life  and 
liglit.  "  In  thy  light,"  says  the  psalmist, 
"  shall  we  see  light."  "  The  Lord  of 
hosts,''  says  Isaiah,  "  shall  be  for  a  crown 
of  glory,  and  for  a  diadem  of  beauty,  unto 
the  residue  of  his  people."  "The  Lamb," 
says  this  apostle,  "  the  Lamb  which  is  in 
the  midst  of  the  throne,  shall  feed  them,  and 
shall  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of 
waters,  and  God  shall  wipe  away,"  God 
himself  shall  wipe  away  with  his  own  hand, 
"  all  tears  from  their  eyes." 

O  what  a  view  of  heaven  does  language 
like  this  open  to  us  !  If  we  love  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  we  shall  not  easily  lose  sight 
of  it,  we  shall  never  forget  it.  I  shall  not 
only  see  my  adored  Redeemer  in  heaven, 
see  him  witii  these  poor  eyes  that  are  not 
worthy  to  look  up  to  the  heaven  in  which 
he  dwells,  but  I  shall  be  taught  by  him, 
and  cheered  by  him,  and  made  happy  by 
him.  It  will  be  no  longer  in  my  case  medi- 
tation on  him;  it  will  be  sight,  sense,  feel- 
ing, converse.  I  shall  no  longer  say,  "O 
that  I  knew  wliere  1  might  find  him  !"  he 
will  be  by  my  side.  I  shall  not  envy  Mary 
there,  or  Martha,  or  Peter,  or  .John  ;  I  too 
shall  sit  at  his  feet ;  I  too  shall  sit  down 
and  eat  with  him  ;  I  too  shall  lean  on  his 
bo-som  and  feel  him  to  be  mine,  the  strength, 
the  joy,  of  my  heart,  and  my  portion  for- 
ever. 

III.  Let  us  now  glance  at  Ike  greniness 
of  this  heavenly  happiness,      Tiiis  is  evi- 


dently  the  point  to  which  the  text  is  intended 
to  bring  us.  Its  design  is  to  show  us  how 
much  happier  a  world  heaven  is  than  earth, 
and  how  much  happier  the  church  in  heaven 
is  than  the  church  on  earth. 

It  supposes,  you  observe,  the  church  to 
have  some  blessedness  here.  It  has  its  sun 
and  it  has  its  moon,  some  sources  of  know- 
ledge and  joy,  and  these  quite  sufficient, 
not  to  meet  its  desires,  but  to  answer  the 
purposes  of  its  present  condition.  But  then 
it  implies  that  these  sink  into  nothing,  when 
compared  with  the  light  which  will  shine  on 
it,  the  knowledge  and  joy  which  will  be 
imparted  to  it,  in  the  heavenly  city.  Just 
as  the  Lord  who  made  that  sun,  excels  that 
sun  itself,  so,  we  are  told,  will  the  light 
which  flows  from  him  in  heaven,  exceed  in 
glory  any  light  that  the  sun  can  give  here. 
Think  of  a  glowworm's  shining.  The  light 
afforded  us  now  by  prophets,  or  apostles,  or 
ministers,  or  scriptures,  this  text  says,  is 
like  it.  We  may  not  feel  it  to  be  so,  but 
so  it  is.  Now  think  of  the  brightness  of  the 
mid-day  sun  ;  contrast  it  with  that  insect's 
glittering ;  so  much  will  our  blessedness 
hereafter  exceed  our  blessedness  now.  The 
one  is  called  blessedness  because  it  is  found 
among  wretchedness  ;  it  is  the  twinkling 
of  a  glowworm  at  midnight.  The  other  is 
called  blessedness  because  it  is  blessedness  ; 
because  any  creature  in  any  state  would 
deem  it  blessedness;  because  it  is  really, 
intrinsically  the  creature's  highest  excel- 
lence and  felicity.  Two  remarks  will 
make  this  evident. 

1.  The  light  that  flows  immediately  from 
Christ  in  glory,  is  clearer  and  hrighlcr  than 
any  other  light  can  be.  There  is  more  of  it, 
and  what  there  is  of  it  is  of  a  purer  nature. 

Knowledge  comes  to  us  here  through 
means  and  instruments,  with  some  alloy 
and  in  a  scanty  measure;  it  will  come  to 
us  in  heaven  from  a  revealed  Saviour  in 
rich  abundance  and  without  any  alloy,  with- 
out any  mixture  of  ignorance  or  error.  We 
shall  be  nearer  our  object,  and  consequently 
shall  sec  it  better  and  understand  it  more. 
"  Now,"  says  the  apostle,  "  we  see  through 
a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face  to  face." 
Here  we  are  like  men  looking  over  a  sea 
at  a  city  we  can  just  distinguish.  We  are 
obliged  to  ascend  heights,  and  call  in  the 
aid  of  instruments,  and  seize  favorable 
moments,  in  order  to  get  even  a  faint  view 
of  it  ;  and  sometimes  we  caimot  get  that; 
mists  and  clouds  intervene  between  us  and 


CHRIST  THE  LIGHT  OF  HEAVEN. 


163 


it,  and  hide  it  from  our  sight.  Hereafter 
we  shall  walk  the  streets  of  that  citv  ;  we 
shall  be  within  its  walls  of  jasper  and  its 
gates  of  gold  ;  its  crystal  light  will  shine 
on  our  heads ;  yea,  our  eyes  shall  see  its 
King  in  his  beauty  ;  we  shall  come  within 
the  rays  of  his  countenance,  and  his  glory 
shall  overshadow  us.    And  more  than  this — 

2.  The  knowledge  we  shall  have  in 
heaven  is  not  only  more  accurate  tiian  any 
we  can  attain  here,  it  is  a  knowledge  more 
easily  acquired. 

How  difficult  do  we  sometimes  find  it 
now  to  lay  hold  of  divine  truth  !  What  a 
process  are  we  obliged  to  pass  through  in 
order  to  arrive  at  a  clear  comprehension 
of  the  simplest  truths  of  the  gospel  !  O 
think,  brethren,  of  the  means  God  has  been 
constrained  to  employ  to  get  any  knowledge 
of  himself  into  your  minds!  How  many 
these  means  have  been  and  how  diversified  ! 
What  pains  he  has  taken  with  you,  and 
how  much  discipline,  and  etlbrt,  and  con- 
flict, and  sorrow,  you  have  endured  !  And 
wliat  after  all  have  you  learned  ?  Little 
more  than  this,  that  God  is  very  patient  and 
you  very  ignorant ;  that  you  ought  to  have 
known  much,  and  yet  know  little,  or,  as 
you  sometimes  think,  nothing  at  all.  Now 
in  heaven  a  glance  will  teach  you.  No 
more  mystery  and  perplexity ;  no  more 
painful  and  often  unsuccessful  efforts  to 
separate  truth  from  error ;  no  more  strug- 
gling with  the  workings  of  a  vain  imagina- 
tion and  a  proud  heart  ;  no  more  need  of 
miserable  sermons  and  laboring  ministers 
to  instruct  us;  no  more  humbling  provi- 
dences, and  cutting  sorrows,  and  mournful 
falls,  to  teach  us  ;  we  shall  learn  as  easily 
as  we  now  breathe  ;  we  shall  take  in  heav- 
enly knowledge  with  as  little  effort  as  we 
now  take  in  the  air  or  light.  Knowledge 
will  flow  like  a  stream  into  our  minds,  and 
bring  happiness  with  it,  and,  this  every 
moment,  and  this  forever,  without  mixture, 
without  interruption,  without  end.  "  Thy 
sun  shall  no  more  go  down,"  the  prophet 
says,  "neither  shall  thy  moon  withdraw 
itself;"  and  why?  for  "the  Lord,"  the 
unchangeable  God,  "  shall  be  thine  ever- 
lasting light,  and  the  days  of  thy  mourning 
shall  be  ended." 

And  now,  brethren,  let  us  ask,  what  is 
all  this  to  us,  to  you  and  me  ?  I  have 
spoken  to  you  of  this  city  of  God  as  though 
we  were  all  on  our  way  to  it,  and  should 
all  eventually  behold  it  and  live  in  il  :   but 


have  I  been  warranted  in  so  doing  ?  Glance 
over  the  chapter.  The  city,  we  read  again 
and  again  in  it,  is  "a  holy  city."  It  is  a 
prepared  city,  built  and  prepared  for  a  spe- 
cial purpose.  It  is  the  tabernacle,  the 
dwelling-place  of  a  holy  God.  It  has  walls 
and  it  has  gates,  walls  great  and  high,  we 
are  told  ;  walls  that  no  one  can  scale  or 
beat  down  ;  and  gates  which  a  holy  God 
has  indeed  set  'ver  open,  but  through  which 
no  one  can  pass  but  at  his  bidding.  Now 
what  follows  from  all  this?  That  the 
whole  mass  of  us  shall  soon  be  in  this 
city  ?  that  every  man  here  of  every  char- 
acter will  one  day  see  the  glory  of  God 
that  lightens  it,  and  the  Lamb  that  is  the 
light  thereof?  Nothing  like  it.  This  fol- 
lows— the  last  verse  of  the  chapter  tells  me 
so — "  There  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  it 
any  thing  that  defileth."  This  follows, 
"Without  holiness,"  not  one  of  us,  "no 
man  shall  see  the  Lord."  Let  him  be  who 
he  may  or  what  he  may;  let  him  be  a  just 
man,  a  blameless  man,  a  kind  man  ;  let 
him  be  ever  so  great,  or  wise,  or  honored, 
or  beloved  ;  if  he  is  not  a  holy  man,  it  sig- 
nifies nothing,  he  shall  not  enter  into  this 
city ;  he  shall  "  in  no  wise,"  says  the 
Spirit,  enter  into  it;  he  shall  not  see  the 
Lord. 

Before  then  we  take  the  comfort  this 
^scripture  offers,  do,  beloved  brethren,  let 
us  ask  ourselves  whether  we  are  justified 
in  taking  it.  Are  we  a  holy  people  ?  Has 
God  made  us  holy  ?  Do  we  really  desire 
to  be  made  holy  ?  Are  we  laboring  and 
praying  for  holiness  ?  Do  we  think  more 
of  holiness  than  of  money,  or  pleasure,  or 
consequence,  or  any  thing  besides  ?  Do  we 
long  for  it  more  ?  Had  we  rather  have  it 
than  any  thing  or  every  thing  else  ?  Is  sin 
the  greatest  curse  we  know,  our  heaviest 
burden,  our  bitterest  sorrow  ?  If  not,  we 
may  hear  of  heaven,  we  may  talk  of  heav- 
en, we  may  wish  for  what  we  call  its  hap- 
piness, nay,  we  may  half  understand  the 
nature  of  its  happiness,  but  still  there  stands 
the  sentence  written,  "  There  shall  in  no 
wise  enter  into  it  any  thing  that  defileth." 
The  testimony  of  God  is  still  the  same, 
"  Without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the 
Lord."  It  is  a  mere  trifling  with  the  sub- 
ject to  stop  short  of  this  view  of  it,  and  it  is 
a  most  mournful  trifling  with  our  own  souls. 
We  may  say  that  our  title  to  heaven  comes 
from  Christ  ;  that  it  is  Christ's  blood  and 
Chri.st's  righteousness,  his  blood  applied  to 


164 


THE  FALL  OF  JERICHO. 


us  b)  faith  and  his  righteousness  put  on  us 
by  faitli  ;  and  this  is  true,  but  this  does  not 
alter  the  case — a  holy  Spirit  must  make  us 
holy,  or  \vc  shall  never  see  a  holy  God  ; 
we  must  be  made  "  meet  for  the  inneritance 
of  the  saints  in  light,"  before  we  can  obtain 
admittance  into  that  inheritance  ;  we  must 
be  "  children  of  the  light,"  and  walk  as 
"  children  of  the  light,"  or  we  must  never 
dare  to  liope  that  we  shall  rejoice  in  the 
.ight  of  heaven. 


SERMON  XXXV. 

THK  FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

THE  FALL  OF  JERICHO. 

Joshua  vi.  1G. — "  It  came  to  pass  at  the  seventh 
time,  when  the  priests  hleio  with  the  trumpets, 
Joshua  said  unto  the  people,  Shout ;  for  the 
Lord  hath  given  you  the  city." 

The  Jewish  history,  we  must  remember, 
IS  more  than  the  hi.story  of  a  nation  ;  it  is 
a  record  of  Jehovairs  dealings  with  his 
church.  That  nation  formed  his  church, 
and  its  history  accordingly  takes  the  char- 
acter of  a  picture,  wherein  all  his  redeem- 
ed people  may  see  shadowed  forth  their 
own  pilgrimage  through  a  stormy  world  to 
heaven.  It  comes  home  to  the  heart  and 
experience  of  every  real  Chri.stian,  repre- 
senting to  him  continually  the  very  situa- 
tion in  which  he  himself  is  placed,  the  dan- 
gers with  which  he  is  surrounded  in  it,  the 
sins  into  which  he  is  prone  to  fall,  the  ene- 
mies with  whom  he  has  to  contend,  the  help 
he  is  warranted  to  expect  in  his  conflicts 
witli  them,  the  means  whereby  iie  is  to 
overcome  them,  and  the  complete  victory 
which  will  finally  end  his  .struggles.  The 
spiritual  import  of  this  history  is  not  ima- 
ginary, it  is  real.  It  docs  not  rest  on  man's 
fancy,  but  on  God's  word.  Holy  scripture 
speaks  frequently  of  it  as  emblematical  in 
its  character,  and  fully  warrants  us  in  so 
regarding  and  applying  it.  We  shall  not 
therefore  be  doing  any  violence  to  the  part 
of  it  now  before  us,  if  we  proceed  to  make 
of  it  a  spiritual  use. 

Our  subject  is  the  capture  of  Jericho,  a 
town  of  Canaan,  by  the  children  of  Israel ; 
and  in  order  to  get  from  it  the  in.struclion  it 
contains,  we  must  look  at — 


I.  The  situation  of  the  Israelites  at  this 
time. 

The  wilderness  is  now  behind  them. 
For  forty  years  they  have  traversed  it  in 
toil  and  sutfering,  but  at  last  God  has  par- 
tially fulfilled  his  promise  to  them,  and  they 
are  standing  on  this  side  Jordan  within  the 
borders  of  the  long  wi.shed.for  Canaan. 
But  though  in  Canaan,  the  land  is  not  yet 
theirs.  A  powerful  nation  is  in  possession 
of  it  from  whom  they  have  still  to  take  it, 
if  they  would  occupy  it.  And  how  are 
they  to  take  it  1  They  are  without  military 
resources  of  any  kind.  Never  was  tiiere 
such  an  invading  army.  A  spectator,  as 
he  looked  on  them,  would  have  said,  "  Go 
back.  Think  not  of  conquering  a  land 
like  this.  Beseech  your  God  to  divide  Jor- 
dan once  again  for  you,  and  fly  once  more 
for  your  lives  into  the  howling  wilder- 
ness." 

And  have  we  not  shadowed  forth  here 
the  condition  of  many  of  God's  servants  in 
our  world  ?  your  own  spiritual  condition 
perhaps,  brethren,  at  this  moment  ?  As 
you  look  backward,  you  can  see  that  much 
indeed  has  been  done  for  you.  You  were 
in  a  wors"  bondage  than  "  the  iron  fur- 
nace" of  Egypt.  The  world  held  you  in 
captivity  ;  or  if  not  the  world,  the  lusts  of 
your  own  hearts  held  you.  Sin  was  your 
master,  sin  was  your  misery,  and  sin  was 
likely  to  be  your  destruction.  But  it 
pleased  God,  in  his  own  sovereign  mercy, 
to  deliver  you.  By  his  Holy  Spirit  work- 
ing in  your  soul,  he  discovered  to  you  the 
wretched  condition  you  were  in,  and  brought 
you  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  deliver- 
ance from  it.  The  opening  of  the  Red  Sea 
for  the  escape  of  the  Israelites  did  not  seem 
to  them  more  wonderful  or  joyful,  than  the 
way  of  escape  opened  for  sinners  through 
the  blood  of  the  cross,  seemed  to  you.  For 
a  little  while,  O  how  happy  were  you  ! 
Like  those  liberated  Israelites,  you  sang  of 
goodness,  and  mercy,  and  redemption,  and 
thought  you  should  sing  of  them  forever. 
But  now  what  is  your  situation  ?  You  are 
ready  to  say,  "  Almo.st  as  bad  as  it  was  at 
first.  We  thought  we  were  saved  forever, 
but  we  see  now  that  our  salvation  is  but  be- 
gun. Where  is  that  triumph  over  sin  we 
looked  for,  that  freedom  and  elevation  of 
soul,  that  abounding  in  all  godliness  ? 
Where  is  the  joy  in  (Christ  which  we  ex- 
pected, that  sense  of  his  presence,  that 
blessed  communion  with  him,  that  burning 


THE  FALL  OF  JERICHO. 


165 


love  for  him  ?  Alas  !  we  know  little  or 
nothing  of  these  things.  Not  only  is  heaven 
itself  far  oft^  but  all  that  is  heavenly  and 
spiritual  :  it  is  yet  to  be  won.  And  how 
is  it  to  be  won  ?  We  know  not.  We  have 
as  many  difficulties  before  us  as  we  have 
escaped,  or  more ;  and  we  are  helpless  as 
children." 

Is  this  your  language  ?  Then  look  again 
at  this  history,  and  notice — 

II.  The  ioicn  these  Israelites  have  now  to 
take. 

Take  it  they  must.  They  cannot  pos- 
sess Canaan  till  they  have  gained  the  for- 
tresses of  it,  and  here  is  one  of  those  for- 
tresses, which  above  all  others  must  be  se- 
cured ;  for,  observe,  it  is  both  a  strong  town 
and  a  frontier  or  border  one. 

It  is  a  strong  place.  The  history  de- 
scribes it  as  walled  or  fortified.  It  was 
probably  one  of  those  cities  which  the  spies 
saw  and  were  frightened  at,  when  they 
were  sent  forward  from  the  wilderness  to 
view  the  land.  "  The  cities  are  walled 
and  very  great,"  they  said ;  "  they  are 
walled  up  to  heaven."  And  we  see  in  the 
first  verse  of  the  chapter,  that  the  inhabit- 
ants are  making  good  use  of  their  fortifica- 
tions. Jericho,  it  is  said,  "  was  straitly 
shut  up  ;"  that  is,  its  gates  were  all  clo- 
sed ;  the  inhabitants  were  determined  that 
no  danger  should  be  incurred  by  negligence 
or  treachery.  "  None  went  out,"  it  is  add- 
ed, "  and  none  came  in."  O  what  a  pic- 
ture, brethren,  of  the  Jericho  that  is  within 
your  hearts  !  Men  of  the  world  look  on 
their  souls  as  what  we  may  call  an  open 
country.  They  conceive  that  there  is  a 
free  entrance  into  them  at  all  times  for  all 
that  is  good  and  holy.  Talk  to  them  of 
the  holiness  of  the  gospel  and  the  happiness 
of  the  gospel,  they  never  feel  that  there  is 
any  thing  within  them,  whicii  shuts  these 
things  out  of  them.  Rut  what  do  some  of 
you  think  ?  or  rather  what  do  you  know  ? 
If  you  are  taught  of  God,  you  will  answer, 
"  We  know  this — our  whole  soul  is  in- 
tronchcd  against  Christ  and  his  salvation. 
It  is  covered  all  over  with  fortresses  which 
shut  him  out.  Not  only  have  we  every 
spiritual  grace  and  blessing  yet  to  attain, 
we  have  much  within  us  to  bring  down  and 
cast  out  before  we  can  attain  them." 
"  Here  is  my  pride,"  says  one  ;  "  And  my 
covetousness,"  says  another ;  "  And  my 
ignorance,"  says  a  third  ;  "and  my  unbe- 
lief, and  my  sensuality,  and  my  love  of  the 


world,  and  my  care  for  the  world,  and  my 
fear  of  the  world.  These  are  Satan's  gar- 
risons within  me.  By  means  of  these  he 
intrenches  himself  in  my  heart.  And 
worse  still — when  I  set  myself  in  good  earn- 
est against  them,  they  seem  stronger  than 
ever.  These  Jerichos  are  straitly  shut  up 
whenever  I  attack  them."  So  was  it  in 
the  holy  Paul's  case.  "  When  I  would  do 
good,"  he  says,  "  evil  is  present  with  me." 
"  I  delight  in  the  law  of  God  after  the  inward 
man,  but  I  see  another  law  in  my  members 
warring  against  the  law  of  my  mind,  and 
bringing  me  into  captivity  to  the  law  of 
sin  which  is  in  my  members.  O  wretched 
man  that  I  am  !  who  shall  deliver  me  ?" 

This  was  a  frontier  toion  also,  as  well  as 
a  strong  one.  It  was  the  first  the  Israel- 
ites approached  after  they  had  crossed  the 
Jordan.  God  gave  them,  you  observe,  a 
most  formidable  difficulty  to  overcome  the 
instant  they  set  foot  in  Canaan. 

And  so  is  it  in  the  spiritual  life.  Severe 
conflicts,  we  say,  are  for  the  aged  Chris- 
tian ;  heavy  trials  for  the  man  who  has 
first  borne  light  ones  :  the  Lord  deals  gently 
with  those  who  are  inexperienced  in  his 
ways.  And  this  is  quite  true.  But  yet  it 
frequently  happens  that  the  servant  of  God 
has  some  one  great  difficulty  to  get  over  in 
the  very  outset  of  his  course.  It  is  a  diffi- 
culty within  him  perhaps — there  is  some 
long  worshipped  idol  in  his  heart  to  be  de- 
throned, or  .some  master  lust  to  be  van- 
quished. Or  it  may  be  a  difficulty  without 
him — he  has  a  sacrifice  to  make,  or  a  dan- 
ger to  incur,  or  some  very  painful  duty  to 
perform.  "  There  is  your  cross,"  says  the 
Saviour  to  him  almost  as  soon  as  he  comes 
to  him  ;  "  there  it  lies.  Take  it  up  and  see 
whether  you  can  bear  it."  And  all  this 
for  wise  reasons,  all  in  love  and  mercy  to 
that  man's  soul.  He  is  to  be  a  warrior,  and 
the  sooner  he  finds  it  out,  the  better.  He 
is  to  fight  his  way  to  heaven,  and  the  sooner 
he  learns  how  to  fight,  the  more  able  he 
will  be  to  press  on.  It  is  the  battle  that 
form.s_  the. soldier.  The^dinstiarT  Tlever 
TTnows  much  oPthe  things  of  God,  never 
makes  any  solid  attainments  in  grace  and 
holiness,  till  he  has  been,  as  it  were,  in  tlie 
field  ;  till  he  can  say,  "  I  have  had  a  fight 
and  a  hard  one,  but  by  God's  help  I  have 
conquered.  There  is  one  strong  hold  cast 
down.  O  may  my  blessed  Lord  enable  me 
to  cast  down  all !" 

III.  Let  us  now  go  on  to  a  third  point  in 


166 


THE  FALL  OF  JERICHO. 


this  ftistory — the  means  by  xchich  these  Is- 
raelites took  this  strong  city. 

Concerning  these  we  may  make  two  re- 
marks. 

1 .  They  icere  means  ichich  God  had  ap- 
pointed. 

If  you  read  the  chapter,  you  will  see 
that  he  gave  the  people  the  most  particular 
instructions  how  to  proceed.  Nothing  was 
left  to  their  own  prudence  or  choice.  They 
were  to  do  tliis  and  to  do  that,  but  nothing 
besides.  Tiiey  were  not  to  shout  or  even  to 
speak  till  God  commanded  them.  Tlie  men 
were  treated  like  so  many  children. 

And  so,  Ciiristian  brethren,  does  the 
Lord  treat  you  and  me.  There  is  a  neces- 
sity for  his  treating  us  thus.  At  all  times, 
but  especially  when  he  first  brings  us  to 
himself,  we  are  children,  as  ignorant  of 
spiritual  things  as  the  new-born  babe  of 
earthly  things.  We  no  more  know  how  to 
master  Satan  or  our  own  evil  hearts,  than 
we  know  how  to  control  the  sea  or  direct 
the  clouds.  The  Lord  therefore  gives  us 
instruction  in  all  things.  He  leaves  no- 
thing for  our  fancied  wisdom  to  do.  Our 
real  wisdom  is  to  be  mindful  of  our  igno- 
rance ;  to  cast  all  our  conceit  away,  just 
as  we  cast  all  our  self-i-ighteousness  away ; 
to  ask  at  all  times  but  this  one  question, 
'•  Lord,  what  hast  thou  commanded  I  What 
wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  This  was  Solo- 
Tuon's  frame  of  mind  in  his  best  days.  "  O 
Lord  my  God,"  he  said,  "  I  am  but  a  little 
child  ;  I  know  not  how  to  go  out  or  come  in 
before  thee  ;"  and  then  he  asked  wisdom 
of  his  God,  as  the  blessing  he  most  needed. 
And  it  was  with  similar  feelings  that  Da- 
vid cried  out,  "  Blessed  be  the  Lord  my 
strength,  which  teacheth  my  hands  to  war 
and  my  fingers  to  fight." 

2.  But  observe  again — these  means,  thus 
appointed  by  God  for  capturing  this  city, 
seemed  most  vnlikehj  to  succeed.  There  is 
the  mighty  Jericho  to  be  taken,  witli  its 
gates  all  fast,  and  its  walls  everywhere 
manned  and  guarded  ;  and  what  does  God 
say  to  Joshua  ?  "  Dig  a  trench  round  it, 
and  blockade  if,  and  so  starve  it  to  a  sur- 
render V  or,  "  Make  the  most  powerful  en- 
gines you  can,  and  batter  its  walls  ;  assault 
it  ?"  Nothing  of  the  kind.  "  Let  it  alone," 
says  (iod.  "  I  have  given  it  into  your 
hands;  it  shall  assuredly  be  yours  :  but  you 
must  not  touch  it.  Cast  no  bank  against  it, 
nor  shoot  an  arrow  theiT.  All  you  have  to 
do  is,   to  assemble   the  peojile,    and   to  go 


round  the  city  once  daily  for  six  days  ;  to 
carry  the  ark  with  you,  and  to  cause'  seven 
of  the  priests  to  walk  before  the  ark  and  to 
blow  with  their  trumpets  as  they  pass  along  ; 
and  then  on  the  seventh  day  do  the  same 
seven  times  over,  and  shout,  and  Jericho 
shall  be  yours.  The  wall  of  the  city  shall 
fall  down,  and  the  people  shall  ascend  up 
every  man  straight  before  him." 

How  strange,  we  may  say,  was  all  this 
We  can  see  no  connection  whatever  between 
these  means  and  the  end  to  be  accomplished 
by  them.  How  must  the  inhabitants  of  that 
besieged  city  have  first  wondered  at  and  then 
ridiculed  them  !  How  must  they  have 
scoffed  as  they  saw  the  silent  hosts  of  Israel 
pacing  day  by  day  round  their  walls  in  or- 
der to  capture  them  !  But  all  this  was  of 
the  same  character  as  most  of  God's  pro- 
ceedings in  our  world.  He  planted  his  gos- 
pel here  by  means  as  strange — a  tent-maker 
and  a  few  poor  fishermen  did  the  work.  He 
saves  his  people  in  our  world  by  means  yet 
stranger — a  malefactor's  cross  purchases 
salvation  for  them.  And  so  too  in  the  spi- 
ritual warfare.  If  we  would  have  the 
strong  holds  of  Satem  pulled  down  in  our 
hearts,  we  must  e.xpect  God  to  give  us  many 
strange  commands,  and  deal  with  us  often 
in  a  very  strange  manner.  We  must  ex- 
pect the  work  to  be  done  by  what  we 
may  deem  weak  and  perhaps  contemptible 
means.  We  must  be  prepared,  not  only  to 
go  to  God  for  instruction,  but  to  be  often 
startled  by  the  instruction  we  receive  from 
him.  When  we  look  to  him  for  strength, 
he  may  answer  us  by  making  us  feel  our 
weakness  ;  and  when  we  are  determined  to 
be  zealous  and  active  and  take  our  enemies 
by  storm,  he  may  say,  "  Your  strength  is 
to  sit  still.  In  returning  and  rest  shall  ye 
be  saved."  And  why  all  this  ?  To  answer 
this  question,  consider — 

IV.  The  prohahk  reasons  why  God  ap- 
pointed these  strange  means  to  overthrow 
this  city. 

And  here  we  must  again  recur  to  the 
situation  of  Israel  at  this  time.  Tiicy  had 
many  cities  to  take,  and  this  was  the  first 
of  them.  They  had  only  just  begun  their 
warfare.  The  Lord's  ii\tenlion  consequent- 
ly was,  not  only  to  duliver  Jericho  into  their 
hands,  but  in  doing  so,  to  teach  them  how 
to  conquer  other  places,  and  thus  to  gain 
possession  of  the  whole  land. 

And  in  dealing  with  us.  Christian  breth- 
ren, he  looks  beyond  the  immediate  victory 


THE  FALL  or  JElilCIIO. 


107 


or  blessing  we  may  have  in  view.  He  looks 
to  other  victories  and  other  blessings.  He 
sees  in  us  the  people  whom  he  has  clioson, 
the  Israel  he  delights  in,  those  whom  his 
own  dear  Son  has  purchased  with  his  pre- 
cious blood,  and  whom  he  is  eventually  to 
have  around  him  in  the  heavenly  Canaan  ; 
and  while  doing  this  or  that  for  us,  subdu- 
ing in  us  this  sin  or  bringing  forth  in  us 
that  grace  of  his  Spirit,  he  does  it  so  as  to 
lead  us  on  towards  heaven,  and  make  us 
meet  for  our  glory  in  it.  We  are  short- 
sighted ;  he  sees  far  onward,  yea,  into  eter- 
nity ;  and  hence  the  strangeness  of  many 
of  his  ways.     But  turn  to  the  history. 

A  simplicity  of  obedience  was  certainly 
one  thing  this  event  was  intended  to  teach 
these  Israelites. 

The  very  strangeness  of  the  means  en- 
joined them  must  have  been  a  trial  of  their 
obedience.  Could  they  have  seen  any  con- 
nection between  them  and  tiie  end  they 
were  to  answer,  their  compliance  with 
them  would  have  been  nothing,  the  suc- 
cess of  them  would  have  taught  them 
little;  but  when  they  had  employed  them 
and  they  had  succeeded,  "  See,"  they  must 
have  said  one  to  another,  "  what  we  have 
gained  by  obeying  God.  He  told  us  to 
march  round  this  city,  and  to  carry  the 
ark  round  it,  and  to  blow  the  trumpets. 
We  could  see  no  reason  in  all  this,  but 
the  Lord  commanded  it  and  we  did  it,  and 
now  the  city  is  ours,  and  ours  without  loss 
or  effort.  O  let  us  in  filture  always  obey 
our  God.  Obedience  is  clearly  our  path 
to  victory.'' 

It  was  in  a  similar  way  that  God  dealt 
with  our  first  parents  in  Eden.  The  act 
they  were  forbidden  to  do,  had  nothing  ap- 
parently wrong  in  it.  It  was  in  appearance 
a  harmless,  a  trifling  thing.  But  its  insig- 
nificance made  it  the  better  adapted  for  the 
divine  purpose.  It  brought  man's  obe- 
dience to  a  more  simple  and  certain  test. 
Man  disobeyed,  and  we  know  the  result. 
We  see  in  that  result,  that  God's  com- 
mands, be  they  what  they  may,  must  not 
bo  trifled  with.  We  are  not  to  sit  in 
judo-ment  on  them  ;  we   must  obey  them. 

A  simplicily  of  faith  was  also  inculcated 
here. 

God  loves  to  be  trusted,  brethren,  as 
well  as  obeyed.  He  delights  in  the  con- 
6dencc  of  liis  people.  He  is  their  Father 
with  a  father's  foclin^s,  and  hn  longs  to 
see  in  them  the  feelinfjs  of  children  towards 


him,  a  confiding  spirit.  Besides,  faith  in 
him  is  needful  in  every  step  of  our  Cliris- 
tian  pilgrimage.  We  are  to  walk  by  faith, 
to  stand  by  faith,  to  live  by  faith,  from 
first  to  last  to  be  saved  by  it. 

And  what  could  be  better  calculated  to 
strengthen  the  faith  of  these  Jewish  war- 
riors,  than  the  capture  of  this  city  in  this 
mysterious  way  ?  They  had  only  one  thing 
to  trust  in  as  they  followed  the  ark  round 
its  battlements — it  was  the  promise  of  Je- 
hovah that  the  city  should  be  theirs.  But 
they  did  trust  in  this  one  thing,  and  they 
were  not  disappointed — the  city  was  theirs. 
Its  walls,  as  they  fell,  proclaimed  the  value 
God  puts  on  faith,  as  well  as  the  success 
witii  which  he  rewards  obedience.  Hence 
St.  Paul  says,  "  By  faith  the  walls  of  Jeri- 
cho fell  down."  He  sees  in  their  ruins 
faith's  power  and  triumph. 

The  people  were  taught  too  by  this 
transaction  the  importance  of  a  patient 
loailing  on  God.  , 

God  has  his  own  time  for  the  communi- 
cation of  his  mercies.  He  consults  our 
good,  not  only  in  the  things  he  gives  us, 
but  in  the  da}'  and  hour  in  which  he  gives 
them.  They  are  not  always  ready  for  us 
the  moment  we  wish  for  them.  We  must 
generally  wait  for  as  well  as  seek  them. 
Waiting  is  as  needful  a  thing  for  the  Chris- 
tian to  learn,  as  faith  or  obedience.  He 
does  not  know  this  at  first ;  therefore,  the 
Lord  soon  begins  to  teach  it  him.  Canaan 
was  to  be  kept  for  a  long  while  from  Isra- 
el, at  least  the  full  possession  of  it.  They 
were  to  take  it  only  by  little  and  little. 
It  pleased  God,  therefore,  at  their  first  en- 
trance into  it,  to  let  them  see  what  they 
had  to  expect,  and  to  prepare  their  minds 
for  it.  Six  days  the  walls  of  Jericho  stand 
fast.  Though  they  carry  the  ark  round 
them  as  the  Lord  has  commanded,  not  a 
stone  is  loosened  nor  a  fissure  seen.  It  is 
not  till  the  seventh  day,  and  not  till  they 
have  compassed  the  city  seven  times  on  the 
seventh  day,  that  these  walls  come  down. 
Here  then  is  not  only  obedience  rewarded 
and  faith  encouraged,  here  is  patience  hon- 
ored, here  is  perseverance  crowned.  The 
God  of  heaven  speaks  to  us  from  above 
that  prostrate  city,  and  tells  us  that  not 
through  faith  only,  but  through  faith  and 
patience,  we  must  inherit  the  promises. 

4.  And  one  thing  more  Israel  must 
surely  have  learned  here — to  give  glory  to 
God. 


168 


THE  FALL  OF  JERICHO 


How  did  he  deliver  them  out  of  Egypt  ? 
In  such  a  way  as  forced  them  to  achnire 
his  greatness,  while  they  rejoiced  in  their 
escape.  The  burden  of  their  song  even 
in  the  first  hour  of  their  deliverance,  was, 
"  Sing  unto  the  Lord,  for  he  hath  triumph- 
ed gloriously.  Who  is  like  unto  thee,  O 
Lord  ?  who  is  like  thee  ?"  And  they  must 
have  sung  the  same  song  now,  if  they 
sang  at  all.  Vaunting  as  they  might  be, 
they  could  not  say,  "  Our  sword  and  the 
might  of  our  arm  hath  gotten  us  this  victo- 
ry." The  city  was  delivered  into  their 
hands  by  means  which  excluded  all  boast- 
ing on  their  part,  and  secured  all  the  glory 
to  God  alone. 

And  how,  brethren,  are  our  spiritual 
victories  won  ?  We  know  the  answer — 
generally  in  a  way  that  humbles  us,  always 
in  a  way  that  glorifies  God.  He  tries 
our  faith,  our  obedience,  and  our  patience 
perhaps,  before  he  gives  us  the  victory, 
but  to  what  do  we  ascribe  it  when  it  is 
given  ?  To  these  things,  or  to  any  thing 
in  us  ?  We  feel  that  we  could  not  do  so 
even  if  we  would.  The  hand  of  the  Lord 
is  so  laid  bare  in  it,  made  so  visible,  that 
we  are  compelled  to  see  it,  and  as  we  see, 
to  adore  and  praise  it — "  Not  unto  us,"  we 
say,  "  not  unto  us,  O  Lord,  but  unto  thy 
name  be  the  praise." 

And  now  let  me  speak  in  conclusion  to 
three  classes  of  persons  among  us.  And, 
first,  to  those  who  are  in  a  situation  like 
that  of  these  Israelites  while  besieging 
Jericho — such  as  are  warring  with  some 
powerful  evit  which  keeps  them  from  the 
enjoyment  of  some  spiritual  good. 

You  say,  perhaps,  that  the  strong  holds 
of  sin  within  you  can  never  be  destroyed, 
that  yourhoarts  will  sooner  break  to  pieces, 
than  have  their  pride,  or  love  of  the  world, 
or  some  other  evil  in  them,  crushed.  You 
have  done  all  you  can,  you  say,  but  there 
stands  the  vile  garrison  still,  with  its  walls 
unshaken,  defying  your  efibrts  and  terrify- 
ing your  souls.  And  there,  brelliren,  it  will 
stand  till  God  has  effectually  taught  you 
some  lesson  you  have  yet  to  learn.  He  is 
aiming  at  more  than  you  arc  aiming  at. 
You  want  that  sin  vanf|uishcd,  and  so  does 
he  ;  but  he  wants  mf)re.  Me  wants  all 
sin  vanquished  in  you,  and  you  made  meet 
for  his  heavenly  kingdom.  He  will  teach 
you  first  by  that  stubborn  evil  within  you, 
your  utter  weakness,  your  uthM-  nothing- 
ness:  and  then   he   will  tcacii   vou   some- 


thing else — a  simple  obedience  to  his  com- 
mands, and  a  simple  trust  in  his  promises. 
You  will  do  at  last  as  he  bids  you ;  you 
will  be  forced  to  do  so.  Instead  of  lookincr 
for  a  triumph  over  sin  solely  or  mainly 
from  your  own  efforts,  without  intermitting 
those  efi^brts  you  will  learn  to  look  for  it 
from  prayer,  from  a  diligent  use  of  the 
means  of  grace,  from  God's  own  uplifted 
arm.  There  will  be  the  following  of  the 
ark  round'  the  city,  and  a  silent  listening 
to  the  trumpets,  and  a  quiet  waiting  on  the 
Lord  ;  and  all  this  perhaps  for  more  than 
seven  days,  or  even  seventy.  And  then 
we  can  tell  you  what  will  come  at  last — 
the  Jericho  in  your  soul  will  fall ;  the 
master-sin  of  your  heart  will  be  conquered  ; 
the  difficulty  which  now  stands  in  your 
path  will  be  got  over.  There  will  be 
some  part  of  Canaan  won  ;  something  of 
heaven's  holiness  and  heaven's  blessedness 
attained. 

Others  of  you,  it  may  be,  have  just 
gained  such  a  victory  as  this.  You  are 
even  now  rejoicing  over  some  bosom-sin 
which  the  Lord  has  enabled  you  to  over- 
come. Happy  are  you  !  The  Israelites 
wondering  at  this  city's  downfall,  were  not 
happier  than  you  are  now.  To  you  I 
would  say,  Nev'er  build  that  vile  Jericho 
again.  Never  suffer  it  to  be  built.  Watch 
over  its  ruins  lest  they  should  unawares  be 
raised  up.  Look  to  the  end  of  this  chap- 
ter.  "Cursed,"  says  Joshua,  "cursed  be 
the  man  before  the  Lord,  that  riseth  up 
and  buildeth  this  city  Jericho :  he  shall  lay 
the  foundation  thereof  in  his  first-born,  and 
in  his  youngest  son  shall  he  set  up  the 
gates  of  it" — a  terrible  curse  ;  but  there  is 
a  misery  almost  as  great  for  you,  if  you 
dare  to  build  up  again  in  your  heart  that 
which  God  in  his  mercy  has  thrown  down. 
It  is  hard  to  master  a  besetting  sin  the 
first  time  ;  but  the  second  time — this  is  a 
victory  which  is  seldom  won.  Satan  is 
often  stronger  in  a  rebuilt  garrison  than  in 
one  which  has  never  been  demolished.  A 
man  led  captive  by  sin  a  second  time,  is 
one  of  the  most  miserable  men  in  the  world. 
What  says  our  Lord  ?  "  The  last  state  of 
that  man  is  worse  than  the  first."  God 
may  giv(>  him  the  victory  again,  but  ncitiu^r 
seven  days  nor  seventy  will  do  now.  Th" 
conflict  may  last  almost  all  his  days.  I: 
may  send  him  down  to  his  grave  woundea 
and  crippled. 

And  this  also  I  would  say  to  you,  breth- 


THE  GREAT  COMMANDMENT  OF  CHRIST. 


169 


ren — rejoice  still  in  the  ruins  of  those  guilty 
Avails.  Bless  God  for  every  vanquished 
enemy  and  vanquished  lust.  He  has  left 
their  ruins  in  you  to  keep  you  thankful  as 
well  as  watchful  ;  to  remind  you  of  what 
he  has  done  for  you  and  what  he  still  can 
do.  Look  forward  to  other  victories.  If 
bought  with  a  Saviour's  blood,  you  are 
destined  to  be  conquerors  still,  and  "  more 
than  conquerors,"  triumphant  conquerors, 
"  through  him  that  loved  you."  There  is 
an  hour  coming  when  every  strong  hold 
within  you  shall  be  cast  down,  all  the  for- 
tresses of  the  enemy  taken,  nothing  left 
within  you  to  keep  peace  and  holiness  out. 
O  what  an  hour  will  that  be,  and  what 
happy  men  will  you  be  in  it ! — your  hearts 
emptied  of  sin,  perfectly  emptied,  even  the 
ruins  of  it  cleared  away  ;  not  only  every 
strong  hold,  "  every  high  thing  that  exalt- 
eth  itself"  within  you,  pulled  down,  but 
every  thought  within  you  brought  into 
"captivity  to  the  obedience  of  Christ;" 
you  holy  men  in  a  holy  world  !  O  long 
for  this  hour,  and  as  you  long  for  it,  anti- 
cipate and  expect  it ! 

But  there  are  some  here  to  whom  all 
this  is  a  riddle.  You  have  scarcely  un- 
derstood perhaps  one  word  of  this  sermon. 
The  fault  may  be  mine.  If  so,  may  the 
Lord  pardon  me  and  humble  me  for  it. 
But  there  is  one  passage  of  scripture  I 
would  just  remind  you  of.  It  contains 
nothing  more  than  your  Lord's  own  words. 
"  When  a  strong  man  armed  keepeth  his 
palace,  his  goods  are  in  peace."  What  if 
that  quiet  palace  of  this  armed  man  is  your 
heart  1  O  brethren,  if  you  are  at  peace 
while  in  bondage  to  the  world  or  sin,  at 
peace  with  Satan's  strong  holds  all  stand- 
ing walled  up  within  you,  your  pride  and 
unbelief  and  earthly-mindedness  and  sen- 
suality all  undemolished,  pray  for  your- 
selves ;  pray  that  you  may  be  any  thing 
rather  than'what  you  arc.  Willing  cap- 
tives to  sin,  its  quiet  slaves,  and  death 
coming  on  and  eternity  drawing  near — O 
may  the  living  God  constrain  you  to  take 
pity  on  yourselves  !  May  he  show  you 
mercy,  and  bring  you  by  his  mighty 
Spirit  in  alarm  and  supplication  to  his  Icet ! 
Armed  with  his  power,  the  mere  sound  of  a 
trumpet  threw  down  the  walls  of  the  guilty 
Jericiio.  O  that  tlie  sound  of  his  gospel 
might  enter  your  hearts  to-day,  and  throw 
down  there  every  thing  which  keeps  Christ 
out  of  those  hearts,  and  Christ's  salvation  ! 
22 


SERMON  XXXVI. 

THE  SECOND    SUNDAY    AFTER    TRINITY. 
THE  GREAT  COMMANDMENT  OF  CHRIST. 

St.  John  xv.  12. — "  This  is  my   commandment, 
that  ye  love  one  another  as  I  have  loved  you.^' 

"  A  GRACIOUS  command,"  says  the  Chris- 
tian, "  but  who  can  obey  it?  To  love  oth- 
ers as  this  wonderful  Saviour  has  loved  me 
— I  might  as  well  attempt  to  rival  him  in 
his  greatness,  or  outshine  him  in  his  glory." 
But  we  must  not  mistake  our  Lord's  mcan- 
ino-.  He  means,  I  conceive,  not  that  our 
love  should  equal  his,  but  that  it  should  be 
like  his ;  not  that  it  should  be  of  the  same 
strength,  but  of  the  same  kind.  "  There 
is  an  ocean  of  love,"  he  says,  "  in  my 
breast.  What  I  want  is,  that  you  should 
have  a  drop  resembling  that  ocean  in  yours  ; 
and  not  one  drop  or  two,  but  as  much  as 
your  hearts  can  hold." 

You  see  then,  brethren,  what  we  have  to 
do.  It  is  to  look,  first,  at  the  love  of  Christ 
as  a  pattern  for  ours,  and  then,  secondly, 
to  examine  the  charge  he  gives  us  to  imi- 
tate it. 

I.  The  love  of  Christ — we  arc  to  begin 
with  this  ;  but  what  can  we  say  of  it  ?  The 
mind  shrinks  from  any  attempt  to  doscrilxj 
it.  W^e  feel  that  whatever  we  say,  must 
disparage  it.  It  transcends  all  description, 
for  it  transcends  all  thought.  No  love  that 
we  can  conceive  of,  comes  near  it.  No 
love  that  is  to  be  found  in  any  creature, 
will  bear  to  be  compared  with  it.  And  this 
Christ  himself  felt,  for  mark — in  order  to 
find  a  love  resembling  it,  he  is  obliged  to 
look  into  the  boundless  mind  of  the  bound- 
less God.  "  As  the  Father  hath  loved  me," 
he  says  in  this  chapter,  "  so  have  I  loved 
you.  My  Father's  love  is  the  only  meas- 
ure I  can  give  you  of  mine,  and  not  his 
love  for  his  holy  angels,  but  his  love  for 
me,  his  only  begotten,  his  beloved  Son." 
But  still  we  do  know  something  of  this  love, 
though  we  can  never  know  it  fully. 

1."  Remember  how  free  it  was.  We  did 
not  merit  it,  we  did  not  ask  for  it,  we  did 
not  even  desire  it.  And  here  is  the  Avonder 
of  it.  It  is  love  Avhich  found  nothing  to 
draw  it  forth.  It  Avas  entirely  self-moved. 
We  are  as  unable  to  discover  a  reason  for 
it,  as  to  discover  the  beginning  of  eternity. 
Disinterestedness  then  must  be  one  main 


170 


THE  GREAT  COMMANDMENT  OF  CHRIST. 


ingredient  in  the  love  we  an;  to  l)car  our 
fellow-men.  There  is  nothing  wrong  in  a 
love  which  springs  from  gratitude,  or  which 
is  drawn  out  by  the  excellencies  of  others 
or  the  relation  they  stand  in  to  us  ;  but  our 
love  is  not  to  wait  for  these  things,  or  any 
thing  else.  It  is  not  to  stop  and  ask,  "  Why 
sl.ould  I  love  that  man  ?  What  has  he 
(kme  for  me  ?  What  good  is  there  in  him  ?" 
Tlnit  is  a  love  "like  Christ's,  which  rises  up 
wiiliin  us  without  any  thought,  freely  and 
spontaneously.  It  docs  not  wait  to  be 
bought  or  won.  There  is  a  portion  of  it  in 
a  moment  for  every  one  who  needs  it. 

2.  And  how  costly  too  was  the  love  of 
Christ ! 

Conceive  of  it  as  first  rising  in  his  mind. 
What  mountains  of  difficulties  were  there 
in  its  way  !  "  I  love  that  ruined  people," 
he  might  have  said.  .  "  My  heart  melts 
within  me  at  the  contemplation  of  their 
misery.  But  how  can  I  show  my  love  to 
them  ?  What  must  I  not  give  up  ?  It  will 
cost  me  more  than  my  whole  creation  is 
worth  to  save  them."  Well  might  he  have 
buried  deep  in  his  own  soul  his  soul's  love. 
But  "  ye  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ ;  though  he  was  rich,  yet  for  our 
sakes  he  became  poor."  Moved  by  his 
grace,  tliat  is,  by  his  own  most  free,  un- 
merited love,  he  paid  for  our  redemption 
the  price  that  his  law  demanded.  And 
vviiat  a  price  !  We  talk  of  it,  but  none 
save  himself  can  understand  its  amount. 
For  the  living  God  to  become  man,  and, 
when  man,  to  walk  our  earth  ;  for  the 
Lord  of  glory  to  be  made  a  curse,  and  the 
Lord  of  life  to  be  laid  down  in  a  grave — we 
may  think  and  think  again,  but  here  is 
something  that  passes  all  thought.  We  are 
lost  and  overwhelmed  in  its  depths. 

Sliall  I  say  that  our  love  one  for  another 
ought  to  be  thus  self-denying  ?  We  feel 
that  it  cannot  be.  Let  me  rather  say.  Who 
can  think  of  Bethlehem,  and  Gethsemane, 
and  Calvary,  the  manger,  and  the  garden, 
and  the  cross,  and  not  wonder  at  his  own 
selfishness? 

Even  in  our  love,  this  selfishness  ap- 
pears. Some  of  us  must  please  themselves 
in  their  kindness,  as  well  as  in  every  thing 
else.  They  will  help  others,  but  it  must 
be  m  their  own  way,  and  that  a  way  which 
involves  in  it  no  sacrifice  to  themselves. 
Throw  a  difficulty  or  risk,  or  even  some- 
times an  inconvenience  before  them,  and 
they  will  not  help  them  at  all.     O  to  find 


I  a  man  who  will  break  throjgli  anything 
but  the  law  of  God  for  his  fellow-man  ! 
That  is  the  man,  who  embodies  this  precept 
of  our  Lord  ;  a  self-denying  man,  one  who 
even  in  his  love  is  willing  to  take  up  his 
cross  and  follow  Christ. 

3.  How  compassionate  and  tender  is 
Christ's  love  ! 

In  looking  at  its  greatness,  we  often  lose 
sight  of  this  feature  of  it.  We  can  hardly 
conceive  that  an  affection  so  strong  can  be 
tender.  But  the  softness  of  a  mother's  love 
never  equalled  our  Lord's.  The  tenderest 
mother  that  ever  breathed,  never  felt  for 
her  suffering  babe  as  he  feels  for  his  suffer- 
ing people,  nay,  for  a  suffering  world.  Read 
his  life.  It  is  not  here  and  there,  that  his 
compassion  comes  out,  it  is  everywhere. 
He  does  much  for  others,  but  we  see  that 
he  feels  more.  Turn  only  to  this  last  inter- 
view with  his  disciples.  He  was  within  a 
step  of  his  bloody  cross  and  passion.  All 
the  terrors  of  his  last  conflict  were  rushing 
in  on  him.  Yet  hear  him  talk,  hear  him 
pray — so  mindful  is  he  of  the  sorrows  of 
these  men,  that  he  seems  to  forget  his  own. 
Here  are  four  chapters  to  pray  for  and 
comfort  them,  and  scarcely  more  than  four 
verses  for  himself. 

And  this  is  the  point  in  which  the  love 
of  many  real  Christians  is  most  deficient. 
It  is  not  compassionate,  not  tender.  Our 
neighbors  want  our  hearts  as  well  as  our 
hands,  but  they  do  not  get  them.  We 
shrink  from  the  pain  of  sympathy  and  the 
burden  of  pity.  There  is  assistance  for 
them,  but  no  thought,  no  feeling  ;  we  need 
all  the  feeling  we  have  for  ourselves.  But 
what  is  the  world  ?  It  is  a  world  of  aching 
hearts  and  burdened  spirits.  There  is  ten- 
fold more  sorrow  in  men's  minds,  than  pain 
in  men's  bodies,  or  sickness  and  poverty  in 
men's  houses.  Would  you  show  it  mercy  ? 
Then  carry  a  feeling  heart  tiu-ough  it. 
This  will  do  more  for  the  world's  comfort 
than  the  richest  purse.  And  in  this  way 
St.  Paul  seems  to  interpret  the  text.  "  Bear 
ye  one  another's  burdens,"  he  says,  "  and 
so  fulfil  the  law  of  Christ." 

4.  How  honniiful  too  is  Christ's  love  ! 

"  Bring  forth  the  best  robe,"  said  the 
prodigal's  father  to  his  servants,  "  and  put 
it  on  him,  and  put  a  ring  on  his  hand  and 
shoes  on  his  feet."  Nothing  is  deemed  too 
good  by  that  tender-hearted  parent  for  that 
recovered  son.  All  his  house  afll)rds  is  not 
deemed    too   much.     And    what   does  the 


THE  GREAT  COM.UAX  .  -  \J  K. 


171 


Lord  Jesus  deem  too  good  or  too  much  (or 
his  recovered  people?  "No  good  thing," 
says  the  psalmist,  "  will  he  withhold  from 
them."  "  All  things,"  an  apostle  says, 
"  are  theirs."  O  the  unsearchable  riches 
of  that  soul,  which  is  once  united  to  the 
everlasting  Saviour !  To  say  that  it  has 
more  than  it  will  believe  it  has,  is  to  say 
nothing.  It  would  still  be  nothing  to  say 
that  it  has  "  exceeding  abundantly  above 
all  it  can  ask  or  think."  To  know  what  it 
lias,  we  must  go  over  earth  and  heaven, 
time  and  eternity  ;  we  must  fathom  the 
depths  and  measure  the  heights  of  grace 
and  glory ;  we  must  find  out  what  is  meant 
by  the  joy  of  the  Lord  and  the  likeness  of 
God.  And  all  these  amazing  riclics  the 
love  of  Christ  has  given  it,  freely  and  joy- 
fully given.  He  found  it  wretched  and 
miserable,  poor  and  naked  ;  he  has  clothed 
and  adorned  it,  he  has  made  it  wealthier 
and  happier  than  an  angel  of  God. 

And  now  he  says  again  to  us,  "  Love  ye 
one  another  as  I  have  loved  you."  His 
meaning  is,  "  Freely  ye  have  received, 
freely  give."  The  measure  of  what  our 
love  is  to  do  for  others  and  give  to  others, 
is  simply  this,  the  measure  of  our  ability 
to  give  and  do.  That  is  Christ's  standard 
in  his  love  ;  it  must  be  our  standard  in  ours. 
True,  there  is  a  bound  in  the  services  we 
are  to  render  to  this  man  and  that.  There 
must  be.  If  not,  one  man  might  take  all 
we  have.  But  a  Christian  heart  will  not 
be  over  anxious  to  discover  that  bound  ; 
and  wlien  it  sees  tiie  line,  it  will  not  easily 
keep  from  passing  over  it.  It  would  rather 
go  a  thousand  steps  beyond  it,  than  stop 
short  one  on  this  side  of  it.  "  What  must 
I  give  in  this  case  ?  and  what  must  I  do  in 
that  V  Christian  love  never  asks  these 
questions.  It  says,  "  What  may  I  give  and 
do  ?  How  far  may  I  go,  and  not  go  wrong  ?" 

There  is  one  thing  more  to  be  noticed. 

5.  Though  discriminating,  how  extensive 
is  Christ's  love ! 

We  may  call  it  discriminating,  for  so  it 
certainly  is.  Look  at  it  as  it  appeared  in 
him  on  earth.  It  took  almost  as  many 
forms  as  love  could  take.  The  love  of 
country  was  strong  in  him.  How  dear  was 
Jerusalem  to  his  heart !  He  mourned  for 
it  ;  he  wept  over  it  ;  he  lingered  about  it, 
as  thongh  lie  could  not  bear  to  leave  it  ; 
the  most  cruel  treatment  could  not  keep 
him  from  it.  The  love  of  the  exiled  David 
for  it,  or  that  of  the  weeping  Jews  in  Baby- 


lon, was  poor  in  coui[>arison  with  his.  We 
see  in  liiin  too  the  love  jf  kindred.  In  his 
dving  moments  he  manifests  it,  commending 
his  sorrowing  mother  to  his  disciple's  care. 
And  he  was  surely  not  a  stranger  to  the 
love  of  friends.  Witness  Martha,  and  IMary, 
and  Lazarus,  and  among  his  disciples, 
Peter  and  John. 

But  then  look,  at  the  same  time,  at  the 
extent  of  our  Master's  love.  Who  was 
excluded  from  it?  His  enemies?  No, 
with  his  last  breath  he  prayed  for  the  very 
men  who  murdered  him.  Or  the  world  ? 
He  cannot  love  it  as  he  loves  his  church  ; 
his  holiness  prevents  him  ;  but  there  is  not 
a  guilty  being  on  the  wide  earth,  wliom  he 
does  not  pity,  bear,  with,  and  load  daily 
witii  benefits.  His  love  is  like  the  sun  in 
the  heavens — they  who  are  the  nearest  to 
it,  are  warmed  and  gladdened  by  it  the 
most,  but  they  who  are  the  furthest  otf 
from  it,  at  the  utmost  poles,  behold  its  light. 

And  this  is  the  unfailing  character  of  all 
true  Christian  love.  Worldly  love  is  nar- 
row, and  generally  becomes  more  so  as  we 
grow  older.  This  is  expansive.  No  one 
object  can  absorb  it ;  no  one  house  or  family 
can  hold  it  ;  no  sect  or  party  can  confine 
it.  It  breaks  through  the  bonds  of  neigh- 
borhood and  country  ;  it  has  good-will,  feel- 
ing, and  pity,  for  a  whole  world.  Ask  it 
whom  it  loves  the  most,  it  will  say,  "  Apart 
from  kindred  and  friends,  those  whom  my 
Lord  loves  the  most,  his  chosen  people,  my 
heavenly  Father's  children."  But  ask  it 
again  to  name  all  it  loves,  "  I  cannot,"  it 
says;  "think  of  miserable  and  perishing 
millions  ;  1  love  them  all." 

Witliout  adding  more,  we  may  take  these 
as  the  chief  points  in  which  our  love  one 
for  another  must  resemble  the  love  of  Christ 
to  us.  His  was  free,  ours  must  be  disinter- 
ested ;  his  was  costly,  ours  must  be  self- 
denying.  There  was  unheard  of  compas 
sion  in  his  love  ;  ours  must  be  pitiful  ano 
tender.  We  must  be  liberal,  for  he  was 
most  bountiful.  Our  love  must  be  ditTu 
sive  and  wide,  for  his  was  universal.  We 
may  have  particular  friendships  and  attach- 
ments ;  if  we  have  warm  hearts,  we  shall 
have  them ;  but  they  must  leave  us  at  lib- 
erty to  care  and  feel  for  all  mankind. 

II.  Let  us  come  now  to  the  cJianrc  our 
Lord  gives  us  to  imitate  him  in  his  love. 

"  This,"  he  says,  "  is  my  commandment, 
that  ye  love  one  another  as  I  have  loved 
you."     And  his  words  are  very  emphatic. 


172 


THE  GREAT  COMMANDMENT  OF  CHRIST. 


They  tell  us  that  we  are  thus  to  love  one 
another  for  three  reasons — there  is  a  com- 
mandment that  we  should  do  so;  it  is  Christ's 
commandment ;  it  is  his  last  and  great  com- 
mandment. 

1.  There  is  a  commandment  in  the  case. 
By  employing  this  word,  Christ  reminds 

us  that  we  are  under  an  obligation  to  love 
our  brethren.  The  word  is  a  silent,  but 
powerful  appeal  to  our  fears.  He  does  not 
represent  this  love  as  something  good  and 
right  for  us  to  have ;  we  must  have  it,  he 
says.  Jt  is  not  recommended  to  us,  it  is 
enjoined. 

And  it  is  remarkable  that  our  Lord,  who 
seldom  uses  this  word  on  other  occasions, 
uses  it  again  and  again  in  reference  to  this 
love.  "  This  is  my  commandment,"  he 
says  here,  "  that  ye  love  one  another." 
And  again  in  the  seventeenth  verse,  "  These 
things  I  command  you,  that  ye  love  one 
another."  And  yet  again  in  the  thirteenth 
chapter  of  this  gospel,  "  A  new  command- 
ment I  give  unto  you,  that  ye  love  one 
another."  Here,  you  observe,  is  authority 
pressing  down  on  us.  We  are  to  be  with- 
out this  love  at  our  peril.  O  brethren,  we 
little  think  what  we  are  doing  when  we 
keep  back  the  helping  hand  or  the  pitying 
heart  from  a  suffering  brother.  We  are 
setting  up  once  more  for  our  own  masters. 
We  are  doing  just  what  we  did  in  the  days 
of  our  ignorance,  before  redeeming  grace 
and  mercy  had  found  us — we  are  violating 
and  despising  the  law  of  heaven.  There  is 
more  than  coldness  of  heart  in  this  thing, 
there  is  disobedience  and  rebellion. 

2.  But  again — "  This,"  our  Lord  says, 
"  is  my  commandment."  He  stamps  it, 
you  observe,  with  his  own  authority.  In 
the  thirteenth  chapter,  he  takes  it  entirely 
to  himself,  just  as  though  he  were  the  author 
of  it ;  "  A  new  commandment  1  give  unto 
you,  that  ye  love  one  another."  So  far, 
however,  there  was  nothing  new  in  it.  It 
was  only,  as  St.  John  tells  us,  "  the  old 
commandment  which  we  had  from  the  be- 
ginning." But  says  our  Lord,  "  I  want 
you  to  connect  this  commandment  with  me. 
I  give  it  you  now  as  from  myself.  True, 
in  substance  it  is  a  bianch  of  my  Father's 
law  ;  but  so  dear  is  it  to  me,  that  I  charge 
you  to  regard  it  in  future  as  my  law.  For- 
get Moses  and  Sinai  when  you  think  of  it  ; 
ascribe  it  only  to  me,  your  acknowledged 
Master  and  Lord.  And  that  you  may  con- 
nect it  with  me,  I  remind  you  in  it  of  all 


my  affection  and  love  for  you.  I  press 
it  on  you  by  a  new  motive  as  well  as  a 
new  authority.  By  all  you  have  seen  me 
bear,  by  all  I  am  about  to  bear  for  you,  by 
all  the  kindness  and  affection  I  have  shown 
you,  by  the  still  greater  kindness  your  won- 
dering eyes  will  soon  behold  in  me  ;  by 
my  own  illustrious  example,  I  command 
you  to  love  one  another ;  yes,  to  love  one 
another  as  I  have  loved  you." 

Viewed  in  this  light,  there  is  an  appeal 
in  this  charge  to  our  gratitude  and  affec- 
tion. When  our  Lord  calls  it  a  command- 
ment, he  says,  "Dread  to  despise  it  ;"  and 
when  he  calls  it  his  commandment,  he  urges 
us  by  his  mercies  towards  us  to  obey  it. 

And  there  may  be  a  reference  here  to 
a  custom  of  the  times.  We  are  told  that 
each  of  the  different  sects  among  the  Jews 
at  this  period,  had  some  particular  tenet  or 
practice  to  distinguish  it.  One  took  this 
and  another  that.  "  Now  I,"  says  our 
Lord,  "  fix  on  this  as  the  mark  and  badge 
of  my  followers — mutual  love.  Look  on 
me  as  compared  with  other  masters  and 
teachers.  It  is  my  love  for  my  disciples, 
that  above  all  things  distinguishes  me  from 
them,  my  self-denial  and  self-abandonment. 
And  a  love  like  this  shall  distinguish  my 
disciples  themselves  from  all  other  men. 
By  this  shall  all  men  know  that  ye  are  my 
disciples,  if  ye  have  love  one  to  another. 
You  shall  be  as  well  known  by  this  love, 
as  the  priests  of  the  temple  are  by  their 
garments,  or  the  Roman  soldiers  by  their 
standards." 

3.  And  notice  one  word  more  in  the  text. 
"  Tins  is  my  commandment ;  this  above  all 
others;  nay,  I  mention  no  other;  this  is 
my  commandment,  this  alone." 

And  herein  he  manifests  two  things. 

He  shows  us,  first,  the  amazing  tcndcriicss 
of  his  own  love.  His  heart  at  this  time  was 
running  over  with  affection  to  these  men. 
Had  we  been  present  and  heard  liim  speak 
of  his  requiring  some  one  thing  of  them,  he 
is  going,  we  should  have  said,  to  bid  them 
love  him,  to  let  nothing  chill  their  attach- 
ment to  him  or  banish  him  from  their  re- 
membrance.  But  his  love  for  them  tri- 
umphs in  his  breast  over  every  other  feel 
ing  and  desire.  He  sees  them  about  to 
be  left  alone,  hated  and  persecuted  in  the 
world,  and  knowing  what  mutual  love  could 
do  to  alleviate  their  sufferings,  he  says, 
"  This  is  my  commandment,  that  ye  love 
one  another,"  that  ye  pity  one  another  in 


ELI  TREMBLING  FOR  THE  ARK. 


na 


your  afflictions  and  labors  which  are  com- 
ing on. 

And  we  see  here  also  the  importance  in 
itself  of  this  mutual  love.  Our  all-wise 
Lord  would  not  have  spoken  thus  enii)hati-  ' 
cally  of  a  trifle.  He  would  not  have  al- 
lowed affection  so  to  influence  him,  as  to 
place  a  duty  above  all  others,  that  was  in- 
ferior to  all  others,  or  occupied  a  low  place 
among  them.  His  words  tell  us  that  here 
is  one  of  the  highest  of  all  duties,  the  most 
beneficial  and  the  most  ennobling. 

You  remember  what  St.  Paul  says  of 
this  love — it  is  "  the  fulfilling  of  the  law." 
And  again  he  says,  "  The  end  of  the  com- 
niandment  is  charity."  Just  so  our  Lord 
speaks  of  it.  He  seems  to  represent  it  in 
the  seventeenth  verse,  as  the  end  and  scope 
of  all  his  other  precepts  ;  "  These  things  1 
command  you,  that  ye  love  one  another." 
He  certainly  places  it  in  the  text  at  the 
summit  of  all  virtues;  <' This  is  my  com- 
mandment, the  only  commandment  my  dy- 
ing lips  shall  give  you,  and  I  give  you  this 
because  of  its  exceUence  and  importance, 
that  ye  love  one  another  as  I  have  loved 
you." 

And  thus  much  for  the  meaning  of  this 
text.  It  urges  us,  in  conclusion,  to  seek 
for  ourselves  a  real,  experimental  know- 
ledge of  the  love  of  Christ  And  by  this  I 
mean,  not  simply  such  ideas  concerning  it 
as  a  sermon  like  this  can  give,  but  such  a 
knowledge  of  it  as  flows  from  a  participa- 
tion in  it ;  from  feeling  ourselves  the  happy 
objects  of  it ;  from  embracing,  tasting,  and 
enjoying  it.  And  if  you  ask  me  wherein 
the  importance  of  this  lies,  I  might  answer, 
all  that  is  dear  to  us,  or  ought  to  be  dear 
to  us,  as  sinful  and  dying  men,  is  involved 
in  it.  It  is  the  love  of  Christ,  his  free, 
costly,  abounding  love,  and  it  is  this  only, 
which  can  save  our  immortal  spirits  from 
the  ruin  that  threatens  them  ;  and.it  is  the 
will  of  God  that  this  love  shall  save  none, 
but  those  who  become  by  experience  in- 
wardly acquainted  with  it.  Are  you  thus 
acquainted  with  it,  brethren  ?  Have  you 
felt  its  power  ?  Then  were  the  great  trum- 
pet to  be  this  moment  sounded  from  heav- 
en, you  are  the  men,  and  the  only  men, 
who  would  go  from  this  congregation  to  a 
world  of  joy. 

But  this  is  not  the  light  in  which  the  text 
sets  forth  the  importance  of  this  knowledge. 
It  speaks  of  the  love  of  Christ,  you  observe, 
as  a  standard  of  obedience  :  and  more — it 


implies  that  it  is  a  most  powerful  motive  to 
obedience.  The  inference  we  arc  to  draw 
is  this,  that  a  man  will  never  even  know 
his  duty,  and  most  certainly  will  never  per- 
form it,  till  he  knows  in  some  measure  what 
the  love  of  Christ  is.  Love  my  neighbor 
and  love  my  God  Avithout  first  seeing  and 
feeling  how  much  my  dying  Lord  has  loved 


light  as  well  go  out  at  midnig 


ht 
nd  look  fur  warmth  and  light.  No,  breth- 
ren, a  sinner's  salvation  and  happiness  all 
flows  from  the  love  of  Christ  ;  and  all  real 
obedience  and  holiness  within  his  soul  must 
be  connected,  I  will  not  say  with  the  enjoy- 
ment of  this  love,  but  with  a  heartfelt  know- 
ledge of  it.  Seek  this  knowledge  then,  pray 
for  it,  you  who  have  it  not;  and  you  who 
have  it,  seek  and  pray  for  more  of  it.  Con- 
template more  the  love  of  Christ.  Try  to 
bring  it  more  frequently  and  more  closely 
before  you  in  all  its  amazing  greatness. 
Labor  to  come  more  and  more  under  its 
influence.  It  is  the  sun  that  is  to  light  you 
in  this  dark  world,  the  sun  that  is  to  warm 
you,  the  sun  that  is  to  gladden  you.  It  is 
the  light  and  joy  of  the' bright  heaven  you 
are  seeking.  O  that  it  may  often  shine  on 
you  and  be  your  light  and  joy  in  the  way 
to  heaven  ! 


SERMON  XXXVII. 

THE  THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

ELI  TRE^NTBLIXG  FOR  THE  ARK. 

1  Samuel  iv.  13. — "  Lo,  Eli  sat  upon  a  seat  by 
the  way-side  watching,  for  his  heart  trembled 
for  the  ark  of  God." 

This  chapter  begins  with  telling  us  of 
a  battle  that  took  place  between  Israel  and 
the  Philistines.  The  Israelites  were  de- 
feated in  it,  and  four  thousand  of  them 
slain.  But  they  resolved  to  fight  again  ; 
and  in  order  to  ensure  a  victory,  they  sent 
to  Shiloh  for  the  ark  of  the  covenant,  that 
they  might  take  it  into  the  field  with  them. 

The  high  priest  at  this  time  was  Eli. 
Too  infirm  to  go  himself  with  the  ark,  it 
was  carried  to  the  camp  by  his  sons  Hophni 
and  Phinehas,  but  the  old  man's  heart  fol- 
lowed it.  There  comes  after  a  while  a 
messenger  from  the  army,  and  finds  him 
as  he  is  described  in  the  text,  seated  by  the 


174 


ELI  TREMBLING  FOR  THE  ARK. 


way-side  at  the  gate  of  the  city,  watchincr, 
anxious  to  catch  the  first  news  that  should 
arrive ;  and  wlierefore  ?  "  His  hf>arl 
trembled,"  we  are  told,  "  for  the  ark  of 
God." 

And  what  was  this  ark?  In  itself,  it 
was  nothing  more  than  a  chest  of  wood 
about  five  feet  long,  and  half  as  deep  and 
wide  ;  but  of  all  the  holy  things  the  Jews 
possessed,  it  was  the  holiest.  The  names 
applied  to  it  will  show  us  why. 

It  is  called  in  this  chapter  "  the  ark  of 
the  covenant  of  God."  This  was  its  com- 
mon name,  and  it  was  so  termed  because  it 
contained  within  it  the  tables  of  the  law  giv- 
•en  to  Moses  on  Mount  Sinai,  together  with  a 
written  copy  of  the  many  gracious  promises 
which  were  made  to  Israel  about  the  same 
time. 

It  is  called  also  elsewhere,  "  the  ark  of 
the  testimony."  By  the  writings  contained 
in  it,  it  testified  or  bore  witness  to  the  peo- 
ple of  what  the  Lord  required  of  them,  and 
what  he  had  pledged  himself  to  do  for  them. 
It  was  a  record  of  Jehovah's  commands 
and  promises. 

And  there  was  another  name  applied  to 
it — "  the  ark  of  God's  strength."  "  Arise, 
O  Lord,  into  thy  rest,"  says  David,  "  thou 
and  the  ark  of  thy  strength  ;"  and  so  also 
he  says  in  another  psalm,  with  a  reference 
to  this  very  transaction,  "  He  delivered  his 
strength  into,  captivity,  and  his  glory  into 
the  enemy's  bind."  And  why  these  lofty 
names  for  a  thing  so  mean  ?  For  this  rea- 
son. On  the  top  of  this  ark  stood  what 
was  called  the  mercy-seat.  Tliis  was 
simply  a  lid  or  covering  of  gold  with  two 
carved  cherubim  on  it,  but  between  these 
cherubim  shone  forth  a  miraculous  light, 
the  shcchinah,  a  token  and  symbol  of  the 
divine  presence.  Hence  the  Lord  is  said, 
in  this  chapter,  to  "  dwell  between  the  che- 
rubims."  Here  he  manifested  himself  as 
really  present  with  his  people.  The  ark 
was  the  ark  of  his  strength,  because  here 
he  abode  in  his  strength,  and  was  seen  to 
do  30  ;  he  discovered  on  it  and  by  it  his 
greatness  and  glory.  No  wonder  then  that 
it  was  esteemed  sacred.  The  people  rev- 
erenced nothing  earthly  so  much.  They 
rejoiced  and  confided  in  it.  While  it  was 
with  them,  they  felt  that  the  Lord  God  of 
their  fathers  was  with  tliem,  that  they 
might  fly  to  him  when  they  pleased  for 
protection,  and  look  to  him  for  blessings. 

And  we  too  in  the  Christian  chu^di  have 


our  ark.  This  holy  thing,  you  perceive, 
corresponded  almost  exactly,  in  the  pur- 
poses to  be  answered  by  it,  with  Christ's 
holy  gospel.  It  was  in  fact  an  emblem  or 
type  of  it.  Just  as  God  manifested  himself 
by  it  to  Israel,  made  known  to  them  his 
will,  his  gracious  designs  and  purposes, 
his  covenant,  his  power  and  goodness,  and 
oaused  them  to  feel  he  was  among  them  ; 
so  now  he  reveals  himself  to  us  in  the  gos- 
pel of  his  Son.  That  gospel  is  a  setting 
forth  of  his  covenant  with  his  spiritual  Is- 
rael ;  it  is  a  faithful  testimony  of  all  the 
wonderful  things  he  has  done  and  intends 
to  do  for  them  ;  it  is  an  unveiling  of  his 
presence  among  them,  of  his  love  towards 
them,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  his  great- 
ness and  glory. 

It  is  clear  then  that  we  may  apply  the 
text,  in  the  spirit  of  it,  to  the  gospel  of  God, 
as  well  as  to  the  ark  of  God.  The  two 
things  are  substantially  the  same.  And 
thus  applied,  the  truths  it  teaches  us  are 
these — 

I.  The  servants  of  God  sometimes  tremble 
for  the  ark  of  God.  Eli  trembled  for  it, 
and  so  at  times  do  many  holy  men  still. 
If  we  ask  how  this  comes  to  pass,  I  answer, 

1.  From  the  great  love  they  have  for  it. 

Value  a  tiling  highly,  and  you  will  sit, 
as  it  were,  by  the  way-side  watching  it ; 
you  will  be  anxious  about  it,  or  be  tempted 
to  be  so  ;  you  will  be  afraid  of  losing  it. 
What  makes  the  tender  mother  fear  for 
the  infant  that  is  out  of  her  sight,  or  that 
seems  in  danger  ?  Simply  this — she  loves 
her  infant.  And  the  people  of  God  love 
the  gospel,  really,  affectionately,  deeply ; 
better  than  they  love  any  one  earthly  thing  ; 
yes,  more  than  their  money,  or  their  friends, 
or  their  children,  or  all  the  world  contains. 
Our  Lord  declares  that  it  would  be  so. 
"The  kingdom  of  heaven,"  he  says,  "is 
like  unto  treasure  hid  in  a  field,  the  which 
when  a  man  hath  found,  he  hideth,  and  for 
joy  thereof  goeth  and  selleth  all  that  he 
hath,  and  buyeth  that  field." 

And  look  at  this  chapter.  There  sits 
Eli  outside  the  gate  of  Shiloh,  watching 
and  trembling,  and  for  what  ?  for  the  life 
of  his  sons  or  the  success  of  the  army  ? 
Both  these  are  in  jeopardy,  and  he  knows 
they  arc  in  jeopardy,  but  he  is  not  trem- 
bling for  them  ;  he  is  afraid  for  the  ark  of 
God.  And  mark  him  again.  Up  comes 
to  him  a  frightened,  agitated  messenger 
from  the  camp,  "  with  his  clothes  rent  and 


ELI  TREMBLING  FUR  THE  ARK. 


175 


with  earth  on  his  head."  "  What  is  there 
done,  my  son  ?"  asks  the  anxious  priest. 
"Israel,"  the  man  says,  "is  fled  brflTre 
the  Philistines,  and  there  hath  been  also  a 
great  slaughter  among  the  people,  and  thy 
two  sons  also,  Ilophni  and  Phinehas,  are 
dead" — there  is  a  blow  for  a  father — that 
surely  is  the  last  and  worst  news  he  can 
hear  ;  but  not  so  ;  something  more  terrible 
is  yet  to  come.  "  The  ark  of  God  is  ta- 
ken," adds  the  man  ;  and  then  we  read  in 
the  next  verse,  "  it  came  to  pass  when  he 
made  mention  of  the  ark  of  God,  Eli  fell 
from  off  the  seat  backward,"  and  in  falling 
died.  He  heard  with  calmness  of  his 
slaughtered  countrymen  and  dead  sons, 
but  the  lost  ark — he  could  not  bear  to  hear 
of  that  ;  the  tidings  struck  him  down. 

And  look  further  on  in  the  chapter. 
Here  is  another  scene  of  the  same  charac- 
ter :  every  mother  will  understand  it.  A 
woman  lies  faint  and  dying  with  her  friends 
around  her.  They  speak  to  her  and  try 
to  comfort  her.  "  Fear  not,"  they  say, 
"for  thou  hast  borne  a  son."  But  she 
takes  no  notice  of  them  or  their  comfort ; 
"  she  answered  not,  neither  did  she  regard 
them."  All  she  does  is,  she  turns  to  her 
new-born  babe  and  names  it  "  Ichabod," 
that  is,  the  glory  is  gone  ;  and  then  she 
dies  calling  out,  "The  glory  is  departed 
from  Israel,  for  the  ark  of  God  is  taken." 
And  this  woman  had  a  husband  lying  un- 
buried  at  this  time  on  the  field  of  battle. 
She  was  no  other  than  the  wife  of  the  slain 
Phinehas. 

Does  this  seem  to  any  of  you  extrava- 
gant or  unnatural  ?  It  would  not,  if  you 
were  really  the  people  of  God.  You  would 
say,  "  I  fear  I  do  not  love  the  gospel  as 
that  man  and  that  woman  loved  their  ark ; 
but  I  know  well  that  it  ought  to  be  so  loved. 
I  believe  that  many  do  so  love  it.  So  I 
wish  to  love  it.  God  grant  that  the  time 
may  come  when  I  actually  may  so  love  it ! 
Lord,  make  thy  .gospel  dearer  to  me  than 
all  the  world." 

2.  But  there  is  another  reason  why  the 
people  of  God  sometimes  tremble  for  the 
ark — iheij  know  something  of  Us  value  to  the 
people  that  possess  it. 

As  far  as  Eli  himself  was  concerned,  it 
mattered  very  little  wha*:  now  became  of 
it.  He  was  ninety  and  eight  years  old, 
we  read,  and  consequently  must  have  re- 
garded himself  as  a  dying  man.  Trup. 
he  had  often  communed  with  Jehovah  by 


the  side  of  this  ark,  had  seen  the  myste- 
rious symbol  of  his  presence  grow  brighter 
and  brighter  on  it  as  the  incense  smoked 
and  he  ministered  before  it,  had  drunk  into 
liis  inmost  soul  the  unutterable  joy  of  feeU 
ing  himself  with  God  ;  but  all  this  was 
now  as  nothing.  He  thought  of  the  mer- 
cies that  holy  thing  had  brought  with  it  for 
more  than  four  hundred  years  to  his  nation. 
It  was  the  safeguard  of  Israel,  it  was  the 
charter  of  her  privileges,  it  was  the  token 
and  pledge  of  the  Lord's  special  favor  to- 
wards her ;  and  therefore,  when  it  was  in 
danger,  he  trembled. 

And  ask  the  Christian  why  he  is  so  anx- 
ious for  the  gospel  to  be  here  or  there.  He 
does  not  always  .say,  "  Because  I  love  the 
gospel,  and  wish  it  to  be  everywhere  ;" 
but  rather,  "  There  are  many  whom  I  love 
in  that  place,  and  they  all  need  the  gos- 
pel." The  man  has  a  feeling  heart. 
There  is  his  Master's  spirit  within  him,  a 
spirit  of  pity  and  love.  "  For  my  breth- 
ren and  companions'  sake,"  he  says,  "  for 
my  fellow-sinners'  sake,  for  my  country's 
sake,  for  a  perishing  world's  sake,  I  care 
for  the  ark  of  God.  It  is  the  greatest 
treasure  our  poor  bankrupt  Avorld  has  left, 
the  only  treasure.  It  is  our  life-boat,  our 
last  plank,  in  our  dismal  wreck.  I  know 
its  value,  and  therefore  I  tremble  for  it." 

3.  A  consciousness  ofgmlt  also  will  make 
the  servants  of  God  thus  fearful. 

It  was  this,  probably,  which  most  troubled 
Eli  when  he  saw  the  ark  go  from  Shiloh. 
"  His  sons  had  made  themselves  vile,"  they 
had  dishonored  God  and  his  worship  in  Is- 
rael ;  and  though  he  had  remonstrated  with 
them  for  their  evil  doings,  he  had  not  effect- 
ually stopped  them.  "  He  restrained  them 
not,"  the  foregoing  chapter  says.  God 
therefore  had  told  him  that  he  would  take 
the  matter  into  his  own  hands,  and  avenge 
his  injured  honor  by  signal  judgments  on 
his  family  and  himself.  And  now  the  ark 
is  in  danger,  Eli  doubtless  remembers 
God's  thrcatenings.  More  than  twenty 
years  have  passed  since  they  were  uttered, 
but  that  matters  not.  They  are  about  to 
be  fulfilled,  he  thinks,  and  dreading  the 
worst,  or  what  seemed  to  him  the  worst,  he 
trembles  lest  for  his  sin  and  the  sin  of  his 
house,  the  ark  .should  be  lost. 

We  have  just  been  looking  at  the  Chris- 
tian as  a  man  of  a  benevolent  heart ;  we 
must  regard  him  now  as  a  man  nf  a  tender 
conscience.     Some  of  you  never  fear  for 


176 


ELI  TREMBLING  FOR  THE  ARK. 


the  gospel.  You  never  dream  of  its  being 
taken  away  from  you,  or  of  any  spiritual 
privilege  being  withdrawn.  And  we  can 
tell  at  once  who  you  are.  You  are  men 
who  do  not  know  yourselves.  You  do  not 
feel  how  unworthy  you  are  of  your  spirit- 
ual mercies,  how  thankless  you  have  long 
been  for  them,  and  how  unprofitable  and 
rebellious  under  them.  You  see  no  reason 
in  yourselves  why  they  should  be  with- 
drawn, and  therefore  you  never  fear  that 
they  will  be  withdrawn.  But  the  real 
Christian  is  a  man  who  carries  about  with 
him  a  heart  that  God  has  wounded.  He 
feels  every  day  he  lives  that  he  is  a  guih.y 
sinner.  When  therefore  he  sees  threaten- 
ing appearances  in  the  church,  he  is  ready 
to  apprehend  danger  in  the  church.  "  Here 
is  God,"  he  says,  "  coming  out  of  his  place 
to  take  vengeance  ;"  or  rather,  "  There  is 
God  departing  from  us ;  he  is  leaving  us 
to  ourselves."  And  instead  of  blaming 
others,  his  heart  smites  him,  and  he  blames 
himself.  "  Is  not  this  my  work  ?"  he  says. 
"  Talk  not  to  me  of  other  men's  sins  ;  I  have 
no  heart  to  hear  of  them.  They  are  heavy, 
perhaps,  but  not  so  heavy  as  mine.  And 
besides,  others  around  me  would  have  hon- 
ored the  gospel  more,  had  I  not  so  dishon- 
oi'ed  it.  If  the  ark  goes  from  us,  it  has 
been  driven  away  from  us  by  my  unprofit- 
able and  unholy  life."  O  that  we  could  at 
this  hour  hear  such  language  as  this  from 
every  man  in  our  church  !  O  that  when- 
ever danger  seems  to  threaten  our  Zion,  we 
would  all  think  of  the  part  we  have  had  in 
bringing  on  that  danger  !  We  blame  oth- 
ers, and  they  may  be  worthy  of  blame,  but 
it  would  become  us  better  to  blame  our- 
selves. We  are  all  guilty  in  this  thing. 
May  the  Lord  give  us  self-accusing,  as 
well  as  anxious  and  trembling  hearts  ! 

From  these  three  causes  then,  the  peo- 
ple of  God  are  sometimes  in  fear  for  the 
ark  of  God — they  have  a  great  love  for  it, 
they  know  something  of  its  value,  they 
have  a  lively  feeling  within  them  of  their 
own  guiltiness.  And  you  see  what  will 
follow,  beloved  brethren,  if  you  never  fear 
for  it — you  have  not  much  love  for  it,  you 
know  little  or  nothing  of  its  value,  you  do 
not  deeply  feel  your  own  guilt.  In  other 
words,  you  bear  but  little  resemblance  to 
the  people  of  God. 

II.  I  come  now  to  another  remark  dc- 
ducible  from  the  text — the  servants  of  God 
have  sometimes  reason  to  fear  for  Ike  ark  of 


God.  Not  only  do  they  fear  for  it,  as  we 
have  just  seen  ;  their  fear,  as  we  have  now 
to  see,  may  be  well-founded  and  right. 

Some  of  you  may  ask  how  this  can  be. 
"  The  great  God,"  you  may  say,  "  will 
take  care  of  his  own  glory  in  our  world. 
Why  should  we  be  anxious  for  it  ?"  I 
answer,  God  will  indeed  take  care  of  his 
glory  here,  and  of  his  ark  and  church  also. 
He  is  able  to  do  so,  and  he  is  pledged  and 
determined  to  do  so.  He  will  ever  have  a 
people  to  praise  him  on  the  earth.  In  some 
corner  or  other  of  it,  the  great  Shepherd  of 
Israel  will  have  his  flock,  and  the  King  of 
Zion  his  subjects.  The  ungodly  can  no 
more  drive  his  gospel  out  of  it,  than  they 
can  drive  the  stars  from  the  firmament. 
Blessed  be  God  for  this  !  But  we  must  re- 
member that  though  the  gospel  will  never 
be  removed  from  the  world,  yet  it  7nay  be  re- 
moved from  this  or  that  part  of  the  zcorld. 
It  is  not  entailed  on  any  congregation,  or 
parish,  or  kingdom.  The  God  who  has 
sent  it  to  this  parish,  may  take  it  away 
again,  or  suffer  it  to  be  driven  away,  or, 
worse  still,  allow  it  to  wither  away.  The 
candlestick  is  a  moveable  thing.  All  the 
powers  of  earth  and  hell  combined  cannof 
destroy  it  or  extinguish  it,  but  it  may  burn 
far  away  from  us  and  we  may  not  see  its 
light. 

And  this  also  must  be  remembered — the 
gospel,  has  often  heen  removed  from  one  j^Jace 
to  another.  The  ark  not  only  may  be  lost 
to  a  people,  it  has  been  lost.  In  the  case 
before  us,  it  was  so.  It  was  lost  for  a  time 
to  all  Israel — the  Philistines  carried  it 
away  ;  and  though  Israel  soon  recovered 
it  again,  yet  Shiloh  never  did.  It  was  to- 
ken about  the  land  from  place  to  place  for 
more  than  a  hundred  years,  but  it  never 
returned  here.  "  God  forsook,"  forever, 
"  the  tabernacle  of  Shiloh,  the  tent  which 
he  placed  among  men."  There  it  stood  an 
empty  tabernacle,  a  deserted  tent,  a  house 
without  an  inhabitant  and  its  glory  gone. 
And  Shiloh  itself  became  a  desolation.  So 
low  did  it  sink,  that  would  the  Jiord  threat- 
en with  his  vengeance  any  guilty  city,  he 
bids  it  look  on  this  ruined  town,  and  see 
how  he  can  punish.  "  Go  ye  now,"  he 
says  to  Jcru.salem,  "  unto  my  place  wliich 
was  in  Shiloh,  where  I  set  my  name  at  the 
first,  and  see  what  I  did  to  it."  "I  will 
make  this  hou.se,"  he  says  again,  "  like 
Shiloh,  and  will  make  this  city  a  curse.' 
And   not   only   this,   the   whole   tribe   of 


ELI  TREMBLING  FOR  THE  ARK. 


177 


riphraim,  within  whose  borders  Shiloh  was, 
shared  in  the  punisiiment.  The  arlc  was 
transferred  to  another  tribe,  as  well  as  an- 
otlier  place.  Flence  the  psalmist  says 
again,  "  Fie  refused  the  tabernacle  of  Jo- 
seph, and  chose  not  the  tribe  of  Epiiraim," 
Joseph's  son,  "  but  chose  the  tribe  of  Judah, 
the  mount  Zion  which  he  loved.  And 
there  he  built  his  sanctuary  like  high  pal- 
aces." And  this  sanctuary  itself,  God's 
glorious  temple  in  Zion — where  is  it  now  ? 
And  where  is  the  ark  of  God,  that  was  car- 
ri'd  into  it  with  so  much  exultation  and 
triumph  ?  They  have  both  perished  ;  not 
a  vestige  remains  of  either.  And  the  tribe 
of  Judah  and  the  men  of  Zion — ^where  are 
they  ?  Not  perished,  but  worse.  They 
are  everywhere,  and  everywhere  "  a  taunt 
and  an  astonishment."  The  heart  won- 
ders and  aches  as  it  thinks  of  them. 

And  we  must  still  go  on — there  never  yet 
has  been  nny  place  blessed  with  the  gospel, 
from  u'hich  il  has  not  sooner  or  later  been 
removed.  Go  over  in  your  minds  every 
land  and  place  that  has  ever  had  it — the 
cities  that  first  received  and  welcomed  it  in 
Asia  its  birth-place — Ephosus,  and  Perga- 
mos,  and  Thyatira,  and  Sard  is — God  has 
dealt  with  them  all,  just  as  he  dealt  with 
Shiloh  and  Jerusalem  before  them  ;  his 
name  is  scarcely  left  in  any  one  of  them. 
And  think  of  the  towns  and  kingdoms  which 
embraced  the  gospel  after  them — Corinth, 
and  Rome,  and  Gaul,  and  Spain.  The  ark 
may  still  be  there,  but  it  is  buried  there 
amidst  so  much  rubbish,  that  we  liardly 
know  where  to  look  for  it.  And  come  to 
our  own  country.  Gracious  indeed  has 
the  Lord  been  to  us,  wonderfully  gracious  ; 
never  has  any  land,  since  the  sun  first 
shone,  been  so  favored  by  heaven  as  ours  ; 
but  when  have  we  had  the  gospel  faithfully 
and  extensively  preached  among  us  for  a 
hundred  years  together  ?  Never.  The 
candlestick  has  now  burnt  brightly,  and 
now  dimly.  If  it  has  never  been  taken 
away  from  us,  it  has  again  and  again  well 
nigh  gone  out.  We  think  it  strange  that 
in  a  land  of  Bibles,  and  prayer-books,  and 
churches,  it  should  be  so,  but  so  it  has 
been.  Our  protestant  fathers  have  been 
almost  as  ignorant  of  God's  truth  in  protest- 
ant England,  as  though  England  had  been 
still  covered  with  popish  darkness. 

The  point  I  wish  to  establish  by  all  this, 
is,  not  that  we  are  about  to  lose  the  gospel, 
but  that   Christian   men   mav  be   richt  in  I 


fearing  we  shall  lose  it ;  not  that  the  gos- 
pel is  about  to  leave  our  parish  or  country, 
but  that  we  ought  to  look  to  ourselves  lest 
it  should  leave  us.  It  may  be  removed,  it 
often  has  been  removed,  no  place  yet  has 

I  enjoyed  it  without  in  the  end  forfeiting  and 

I  losing  it.  Who  then  that  really  loves  it. 
will  not  sometimes,  like  Eli,  be  anxious  and 

j  tremble  for  it  ? 

And  here  comes  the  question,  Is  there 

)  any  reason  to  tremble  for  it  now  ?  And 
the  only  answer  I  need  give  to  this  ques- 
tion, is  to  turn  again  to  the  text,  and  draw 
from  it  this  further  remark — 

III.    The  servants  of  God  have  reason  to 

I  tremble  for  the  ark  of  God  when  it  is  either 

'  profaned  or  trusted  in.  In  this  case,  it  was 
bolh.      Turn  to  the  history. 

You  will  find  that  though  the  Lord's  an- 

i  ger  had  been  kindled  against  Israel,  in  the 
first  instance,    by  the    wickedness    spread 

,  over  the  land  by  Eli's  sons,  yet  the  imme- 
diate cause  of  the  ark's  departure  from  Is- 

'  rael  was  the  use  made  of  it  on  this  occasion. 
And  this  involved  the  two  things  1  have 
just  mentioned. 

1.  The  people  profaned  the  ark.  Who 
j  bade  them  send  to  Shiloh  for  it,  and  take  it 
!  from  its  holy  secrecy  there  into  the  tumult 

s  I  of  a  camp  ?  The  Lord  had  commanded 
I\Ioses  that  it  should  be  kept  in  "  the  secret 
place  of  his  tabernacle;"  but  now,  to  an- 
swer their  earthly  purposes,  the  command 
of  God  is  to  be  set  aside,  the  sacredness  of 
the  holy  of  holies  to  be  violated,  a  battle- 
field to  become  the  dwelling  place  of  the 
ark  of  God.  And  the  priests  of  God  con- 
sented to  this.  The  two  sons  of  Eli,  who 
had  the  charge  of  it,  seem  to  have  carried 
it  to  the  camp  without  the  least  reluctance. 
If  therefore  a  time  should  ever  come  in 
England  when  our  people  or  rulers  shall 
care  less  for  the  gospel,  than  they  care  for 
their  own  glory  or  power  ;  when  God's 
church  in  England  shall  be  given  up  into 
the  hands  of  those  who  hate  it;  when  men 
who  ought  to  shield  it  from  harm  and  are 
pledged  by  tlieir  office  and  solemn  oaths  to 
do  so,  shall  cast  it  to  any  who  will  take  it, 
and  allow  them  to  do  with  it  whatsoever 
they  will — let  such  a  time  come,  and  then 
there  will  indeed  be  cause  to  tremble  for 
the  ark  of  God.  It  is  undervalued,  it  is 
profaned,  and  God  will  not  bear  this — it  is 
in  danger  of  being  lost. 

2.  The  Israelites  also  made  too  much  of 
the  ark  ;  thev  trusted  in  it.,  and  this  at  the 


178 


ELI  TREMBLING  FOR  THE  ARK. 


very  time  that  they  undervalued  and  pro- 
faned it — a  strange  inconsistency,  but  yet  a 
common  one. 

"  Wherefore,"  they  said  one  to  another 
after  their  first  defeat,  "  hath  the  Lord  smit- 
ten us  to-day  before  the  Pliilistines?"  So 
far  well  ;  tiiey  acknowledge,  you  perceive, 
the  hand  of  God  in  their  discomfiture;  but 
instead  of  saying,  "  We  have  sinned  against 
God  ;  do  not  let  us  go  out  again  with  our 
hosts  till  we  have  humbled  ourselves  be- 
fore him  ;"  they  say  immediately,  "  Let  us 
fetch  the  ark  of  the  covenant  of  the  Lord 
out  of  Sliiloh,  that  when  it  conirth  among 
us,  it  may  save  us  out  of  the  hand  of  our 
enemies."  Here  is  no  humiliation,  no  re- 
formation or  promise  of  it,  not  even  a  single 
prayer  for  deliverance.  All  we  see  is  only 
a  blind,  idolatrous  confidence  in  the  ark  ; 
the  ark  is  to  save  them.  And  when  it  came 
into  the  camp,  mark  the  etTect  produced  by 
it — they  shouted  for  joy  as  though  the  vic- 
tory was  already  theirs.  "All  Israel  shout- 
ed with  a  great  shout,"  it  is  said,  "so  that 
the  earth  rang  again."  And  how  did  all 
this  end  ?  In  the  noise  of  battle,  and  then 
in  another  and  a  worse  defeat ;  "  There 
fell  of  Israel  thirty  thousand  footmen,  and 
the  ark  of  God  was  taken."  God  was  dis- 
lionored  by  having  his  ark  put  in  his  place, 
and  therefore  he  dishonored  it  and  the  men 
who  so  exalted  it.  There  lie  the  people  of 
the  Lord  iq.  slaughtered  thousands,  and 
there  goes  the  ark  itself,  that  sacred  thing 
which  none  but  a  Levite  must  ever  touch — 
it  is  carried  by  heathen  hands  amid  heathen 
shouts  to  a  heathen  temple  ;  it  is  lost  to  the 
Israel  of  God. 

The  inference  we  are  to  draw  is  plain — 
while  we  do  not  undervalue  our  spiritual 
privileges,  we  must  never  trust  to  them  to 
protect  us  ;  nay,  we  must  not  expect  them 
to  protect  even  themselves.  It  is  a  great 
mistake  to  say,  "  The  church  and  the  gos- 
pel will  defend  themselves."  There  is  the 
ark  in  Dagon's  temple,  and  if  we  conclude, 
because  we  have  a  spiritual  church  and  a 
preached  gospel,  that  that  ciiurch  must 
stand  and  that  gospel  still  be  preached,  God 
•may  teach  us  a  terrible  lesson.  We  may 
have  Dagon  in  our  temples.  We  may  hear 
in-them  the  song  of  popish  idolatry  or  the 
infidel's  shout.  And  worse  still — some  of 
us  may  join  in  that  song  and  help  to  raise 
that  hhoni.  God  may  force  mm  nnd  ancrels 
to  see  in  us  that  he  will  not  luivc  anv  ihiiin- 
in  earth  or  heaven  put  abnvc  liim  ;   that  h.' 


will  dishonor  any  thing  however  excellent 
that  takes  from  him  his  glory — Eli  his  ser- 
vant and  priest,  Shiloh  the  place  of  Iiig 
tabernacle,  yea,  the  very  ark  wherein  he 
dwells.  He  will  deliver  once  more  "  his 
strength  into  captivity  and  his  glory  into 
the  enemy's  hand." 

And  hence  it  is,  brethren,  that  if  you 
would  know  whether  you  at  this  time  ought 
to  fear  for  the  ark  of  God,  you  must  not 
look  at  the  camp  of  the  Philistines,  the 
large,  and  vaunting,  and  already  half-tri- 
umphant army  of  our  enemies — come  to 
the  camp  of  Israel  aud  look  there.  There, 
if  anywhere,  the  danger  lies.  It  is  the 
church  itself,  that  is  generally  the  church's 
worst  foe.  If  she  falls,  it  will  be  her  own 
worldly-mindedness  and  spiritual  idolatry, 
her  confidence  in  herself  and  her  forget- 
fulness  of  God,  that  will  bring  her  low. 
She  will  fall  her  own  destroyer. 

A  few  words  in  conclusion.  There  are 
perhaps  some  among  you,  who  have  list- 
ened to  this  sermon  with  little  interest; 
and  the  reason,  you  would  say,  is  a  con- 
viction in  your  minds  that  God's  ark  in 
this  land  is  in  no  danger.  There  is  no 
reason  whatever,  you  tell  us,  for  one  fear 
concerning  it.  Perhaps  you  are  right. 
God  grant  that  yo-u  may  be  so ! 

But  you  are  not  sure  you  are  right. 
You  cannot  be  certain  that  the  gospel  is 
in  no  danger  among  us.  And  bear  with 
me  if  I  say,  that  your  fearlessness  con- 
cerning it  is  no  proof  of  your  love  for  it. 
I  could  tell  you,  and  without  any  risk  of 
mistake,  what  every  true  servant  of  God  in 
this  congregation  would  say  on  this  point. 
It  would  be  this,  "  I  had  rather  be  that  old 
man  trembling  by  the  way-side  at  Shiloh  for 
the  ark  of  God,  even  without  good  cause  for 
trembling,  than  I  would  be  the  richest  and 
happiest  man  in  all  England  or  in  all  the 
world,  who  cares  nothing  about  it."  May 
not  your  quietness,  I  would  ask,  proceed 
from  your  inditTerence  ?  May  you  not  be 
without  fear  for  the  gospel,  because  you 
really  care  very  little  about  the  gospel  ? 
You  soon  take  alarm  when  your  children 
or  property  seem  in  danger.  You  can 
sometimes  see  danger  a  great  way  off,  if 
your  worldly  prosperity  is  likely  to  be  af- 
fected by  it.  Your  feelings  perhaps  are 
kindled  in  a  moment,  if  there  is  a  hand  or 
a  tongue  moved  against  your  civil  privi- 
leges. Why  then  this  slowness  of  heart 
to  apprcliciid  v\l\  and  danger  here?     God 


THE  DIFFICULTIES  OF  SALVATION. 


179 


giant,  beloved  brethren,  that  you  may  not 
be  trilling  with  your  own  souls  !  God  grant 
that  while  you  profess  to  value  the  gospel, 
you  may  not  care  less  for  it  than  for  the 
smallest  earthly  good  you  possess  !  There 
is  a  wo  denounced  against  those  who  are 
at  ease  in  Zion,  when  Zion  is  troubled  ;  and 
there  is  wo  on  wo  for  those  who  hear  of 
the  salvation  of  Christ,  and  yet  make  light 
of  it. 


SERMON  XXXVIII. 

THE    FOURTH    SUNDAY    AFTER    TRINITY. 

THE  DISCIPLES  WONDERING  AT  THE  DIF- 
FICULTIES OF  SALVATION. 

St.  Mark  x.  26,  27. — "They  were  astonished  out 
of  measure,  saying  among  themselves,  Who  then 
can  he  sared  ?  And  Jesus,  looking  upon  them, 
saith.  With  men  it  is  impossible,  but  not  with 
God." 

Salvation  !  What  is  there  so  desirable 
♦or  us,  brethren  ?  It  comprehends  in  it 
every  real  blessing  we  can  think  of.  And 
what  is  there  so  necessary  ?  It  is  the  one 
thing  needful  for  us  ;  we  must  obtain  it  or 
perish.  But  here  comes  the  word  of  God, 
and  speaks  to  us  of  this  much  needed  thing 
in  almost  fearful  language.  It  represents 
it  as  exceedingly  difficult  to  be  obtained.  It 
is  far  off  from  us,  it.  says,  and  so  far  that  no 
man  living  has  power  in  himself  to  reach 
it.  And  is  not  this  a  very  serious  truth  ? 
May  God  grant  that  we  may  this  day  see 
and  feel  it  to  be  such  ! 

We  find  in  the  text  three  points  for  our 
consideration — first,  the  difficulties  of  sal- 
vation ;  then,  Itie  feelings  of  our  Lord's  dis- 
ciples with  regard  to  these  difficulties ; 
and  then,  his  own  judgment  concerning 
them. 

I.  You  know  what  salvation  is.  We 
are  a  company  of  guilty  and  polluted  crea- 
tures, whom  God  lias  condemned  for  their 
crimes  to  everlasting' wretchedness.  Sal- 
vation is  deliverance  from  this  condemna- 
tion, and  the  placing  of  us  pure  and  happy 
in  God's  own  kingdom.  This,  the  text  inti- 
mates, is  not  an  easy  work.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  sets  it  forth  as  a  very  difficult  one. 
But  we  must  take  care  that  we  do  not  mis- 
take as  to  where  tho  difficulty  lies.  It  is 
not  in   God  ;  he  is  as  mighty  to  save  as 


omnipotence  can  make  him.  And  it  is  not 
in  Christ  ;  "  for  he  is  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost  them  that  come  unto  God  by  him." 
And  it  does  not  lie  in  any  reluctance  either 
in  God  or  in  Christ  to  put  forth  the  saving 
power  which  is  in  them.  They  are  as  will- 
ing to  help  us,  as  they  are  able.  They 
could  not  be  more  willing.  They  delight 
in  showing  mercy  to  sinners.  There  is 
nothing  they  delight  in  so  much.  We  must 
look  elsewhere  then  for  these  sad  difficul- 
ties ;  and  we  need  not  look  far  for  them ; 
they  are  found  in  ourselves.  They  con- 
sist in  things  within  our  own  hearts,  which 
oppose  themselves  to  the  salvation  God  is 
willing  to  give  us,  and  thus  create  a  diffi. 
culty  where  otherwise  there  would  be  none. 

There  is  a  difficulty  arising  out  of  the 
pride  of  our  hearts — the  difficulty  of  falling 
171  with  God's  7vayf  of  saving  us. 

He  tells  us  that  his  salvation  is  entirely 
of  grace,  that  we  must  be  saved,  if  we  are 
saved  at  all,  solely  by  his  free  mercy.  We 
are  not  to  go  to  him  for  his  help  as  servants 
claiming  wages,  but  as  beggars  imploring 
alms.  And  we  do  not  like  this  way  of 
going  to  him.  It  mortifies  and  humbles  us. 
We  think  it  degrades  us.  Our  hearts  must 
be  half-broken  before  we  can  ever  be  brought 
to  submit  to  it ;  and  long  after  we  have  sub- 
mitted to  it,  we  shall  find  our  self-sufficient 
minds  frequently  revolting  against  it.  It 
often  takes  a  whole  life  of  painful  discipline 
heartily  to  convince  a  man  that  nothing  but 
God's  pure  mercy  can  save  his  guilty  soul. 

And  then  there  is  Ihe  difficulty  of  comply, 
ing  icith  God's  terms  of  salvation.  We 
must  trace  this  to  the  unbelief  of  our  hearts. 

God  offers  us  salvation  on  the  very  easi- 
est terms  on  which  it  could  possibly  be 
offered  us.  We  cannot  think  of  easier. 
So  light  are  they,  that  it  seems  to  be  doing 
a  wrong  to  his  goodness  to  speak  of  them 
as  any  terms  at  all.  "  By  grace  ye  are 
saved,"  he  says,  "through  faith."  "He 
that  believeth  shall  be  saved."  All  he 
asks  of  us  is,  that  we  shall  give  credit  to 
the  declarations  of  mercy  he  makes  to  sin- 
ners in  the  gospel  ;  that  w^e  shall  believe 
him,  when  he  speaks  to  us  from  heaven, 
and  says,  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in 
whom  I  am  well  pleased.  There  is  re- 
demption for  you  through  his  blood,  even  the 
forgiveness  of  sins."  This  he  requires  of 
us,  but  he  requires  no  more. 

And  where,  we  may  ask,  lies  the  hin- 
derance  here  ?     What  difiiculty  can  there 


180 


THE  DISCIPLES  WONDERING  AT  THE 


be  in  believing  declarations  so  gracious  and  | 
so  true?  Tlicre  is  none  at  all,  as  long  as 
we  know  nothing  feelingly  of  our  own  guilt 
and  vileness  ;  at  least,  none  of  which  we 
are  conscious.  But  let  the  Spirit  of  God 
once  make  us  feel  what  we  really  are,  let 
a  sense  of  our  great  sinfulness  once  lay 
hold  of  us,  and  the  case  is  immediately 
altered.  We  find  out  now  that  faith  in 
God's  promises  of  mercy  is  one  of  the  most 
difficult  things  in  the  world.  "  Mercy  for 
us,"  we  say,  "and  such  mercy?  mercy 
so  free,  so  abundant,  so  glorious  ?  It  can- 
not be."  We  can  believe  God,  when  God 
denounces  against  us  in  his  word  the  ter- 
rors of  his  wrath,  for  we  feel  that  they  are 
our  just  portion,  we  have  merited  them  all ; 
but  when  he  tells  us  that  his  own  everlast- 
ing Son  has  come  down  from  the  skies  to 
save  us,  that  he  has  taken  on  him  our  form, 
and  been  wounded  and  bruised,  crucified 
and  slain,  in  that  form  for  oursakes  ;  when 
he  says  that  he  has  opened  wide  for  us  the 
doors  of  his  own  holy  kingdom,  and  that 
we,  base  and  criminal  as  we  are,  have 
boldness,  through  the  blood  of  his  Son, 
freely  to  enter  in — we  know  not  what  to 
think.  He  seems  almost  to  mock  us.  Such 
amazing  goodness  we  cannot  believe  to  be 
real. 

It  is  often  said  that  we  easily  receive  as 
true  what  we  desire  to  be  true,  and  so  in 
ordinary  cases  it  may  be,  but  not  so  always  ; 
perhaps  it  is  never  so  in  a  matter  that  very 
deeply  interests  us.  We  then  are  com- 
monly the  most  backward  to  credit  the  very 
thing  which  of  all  others  we  should  most 
rejoice  to  credit.  "  Joseph  is  yet  alive," 
said  the  sons  of  Jacob  to  their  father.  They 
could  not  have  brought  to  that  old  man 
more  joyful  tidings.  But  "  Jacob's  heart 
fainted,  for  he  believed  them  not."  "  Be- 
hold my  hands  and  my  feet,"  said  our  risen 
Lord  to  his  disciples,  "that  it  is  I  myself." 
And  then  we  read,  "  he  showed  them  his 
hands  and  his  feet,"  he  took  pains  to  con- 
vince them  that  their  own  beloved  Master 
was  again  before  them  ;  but  for  a  while  the 
wondering  men,  it  is  said,  "  believed  not 
for  joy."  And  so  with  the  sin-stricken 
penitent.  The  tidings  brought  to  him  in 
the  gospel,  seem  to  him  too  good  to  be  cred- 
ited, lie  longs  to  believe  them  ;  he  would 
give  worlds,  were  worlds  his,  to  believe 
them ;  but  he  knows  not  how,  he  cannot. 

And  there  is  another  difficulty  still  be- 
iind  J  it  springs  from  the  corruption  of  our 


hearts — the  dijlcully  of  our  seeking,  or  even 
accepting,  such  a  salvation  as  God  offers  7is. 

That  we  may  understand  this,  we  must 
remember  that  salvation  is  not  merely  a 
taking  of  us  away  from  one  world  and 
placing  us  in  another ;  it  consists  quite  as 
much  in  a  great  change  wrought  within  our 
own  minds.  It  is  a  deliverance  from  the 
love  and  power  of  sin.  Accordingly  we 
read  that  our  Lord  is  to  be  called  Jesus  or 
Saviour,  "  for  he  shall  save  his  people  from 
their  sins."  "  God  sent  him  to  bless  you," 
St.  Peter  tells  the  Jews,  "  in  turning  away 
every  one  of  you  from  his  iniquities."  It 
follows  then  that  salvation  is  another  word 
for  holiness  ;  or  if  that  should  seem  to  be 
going  too  far,  we  may  say,  without  any  risk 
of  mistake,  that  there  is  no  salvation  with- 
out holiness  ;  that  holiness  fonns  a  part  and 
a  main  part  of  salvation. 

Now  we  who  are  to  receive  this  holy  sal- 
vation, are  by  nature  in  a  most  unholy  state. 
Our  hearts  are  "  full  of  evil."  They  are 
"desperately  wicked."  And  worse  than 
this,  not  only  are  they  not  subject  to  God's 
law,  they  cannot  be  subject  to  it,  and  for 
this  plain  reason — they  are  in  a  state  of 
enmity  against  that  law,  and  the  God  who 
is  the  author  of  it.  Can  we  wonder  then 
that  we  find  it  a  difficult  thing  to  be  saved  ? 
Here  is  not  only  an  humbling  way  of  salva- 
tion to  be  submitted  to,  and  strange  terms 
of  salvation  to  be  complied  with;  but  when 
these  difficulties  are  overcome,  here  is  a 
greater  difficulty  than  all  in  the  character 
of  this  salvation  itself.  It  is  not  the  salva- 
tion we  wish  for.  It  is  the  very  last  salva- 
tion we  should  naturally  choose.  It  cruci- 
fies within  us  all  that  nature  delights  in,  and 
gives  a  death-blow  to  all  that  nature  would 
keep  alive.  And  what  does  it  propose  to 
put  within  us  in  their  stead  ?  Des<res  and 
feelings  in  which  nature  can  take  no  pleas- 
ure, which  war  against  nature,  and  make 
our  lives,  as  long  as  we  live  on  earth,  a  wea- 
risome and  painful  confiict. 

Besides,  we  have  something  more  to  do 
than  to  receive  this  holy  salvation ;  we 
have  to  "  work  it  out."  We  are  to  "  cleanse 
ourselves  from  all  filthinessof  the  flesh  and 
spirit,  and  to  perfect  holiness  in  the  fear  of 
God."  Had  we  nothing  more  to  do  than 
to  lie  passive  in  God's  hand  while  he  sanc- 
tified us,  this  would  not  be  easy;  but  we 
are  to  go  beyond  this ;  we  are  to  concur 
with  God  in  the  work  of  our  sanctification, 
and  the  most  painful  part  of  it  we  are  to 


DIFFICULTIES  OF  SALVATION. 


181 


accomplish.  We  ourselves  are  to  "  cru- ' 
cify  the  flesh  with  its  afieetions  and  lusts." ; 
Not  only  is  the  right  hand  to  come  ofl",  we  i 
are  to  '-cut  it  off;"  not  only  is  the  right  j 
eye  to  come  out,  we  are  to  "  pluck  it  out."  i 
And  is  this  easy  ?  Let  those  say  who  have  i 
in  good  earnest  set  about  the  work.  They  ' 
will  tell  us  with  one  voice,  that  the  hardest 
bodily  labor  toil-worn  man  ever  knew,  is 
nothing  when  compared  with  the  inward 
labor  of  resisting  and  vanquishing  a  bosom- 
lust. 

And  here  we  must  leave  this  part  of  our 
subject.  I  have  said,  however,  but  little 
of  what  might  be  said  on  it.  The  difficul- 
ties you  have  heard  mentioned,  are  only  a 
few  out  of  many,  and  many  that  all  of  you 
will  assuredly  meet  with  and  must  over- 
come, if  ever  you  reach  heaven,  or  even 
go  on  far  in  the  way  which  leads  to  it. 

II.  Let  us  come  now  to  what  the  disciples 
fell  at  the  prospect  of  thes".  difficulties. 
Two  of  their  feelings  are  mentioned. 
V/onder  is  one  of  them,  and  great  won- 
der ;   "  They  were  astonished  out  of  meas- 
ure." 

If  you  look  to  the  twenty-fourth  verse,  you 
will  find  that  they  had  been  astonished  be- 
fore from  the  same  cause.  A  young  ruler 
of  the  Jews  had  come  to  our  Lord,  and 
asked  him,  with  much  apparent  sincerity 
and  earnestness,  what  lie  must  do  to  inherit 
eternal  life.  Christ  told  him  ;  but  the  man 
lid  not  like  what  was  told  him  ;  it  involved 
he  sacrifice  of  all  his  earthly  possessions, 
and  not  being  prepared  for  such  a  sacrifice, 
le  went  away  sad  and  grieved.  Jesus 
immediately  turns  to  his  disciples,  and  re- 
ferring to  this  half-hearted  inquirer,  ex- 
claims in  the  sorrow  of  his  heart,  "  How 
hardly  shall  they  that  have  riehes,  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  God  !"  And  then,  we 
read,  '-the  disciples  were  astonished  at  his 
words."  But  mark — instead  of  explaining 
them  away,  he  repeats  and  strengthens 
them,  and  thus  increases  tenfold  the  won- 
der  of  his  followers.  They  are  astonished 
now  "out  of  measure,"  exceedingly  aston- 
ished, confounded  with  amazement. 

And  just  so  is  it,  at  the  outset  of  their 
course,  with  most  of  Christ's  true  disciples. 
There  was  a  time  when  they  deemed  sal- 
vation an  easy  thing,  nothing  easier.  It 
required,  they  conceived,  very  little  from 
thorn,  and  that  little  they  couhl  do  at  any 
time  and  almost  without  an  eilort.  Instead 
of  savintT  with  these  men,  "  Who  can  bo 


saved  ?"  they  would  rather  have  sail,  and 
perhaps  did  say,  "  God  is  very  merciful  ; 
who  can  be  lost  ?"  But  how  long  did  they 
talk  thus  ?  Just  as  long  as  they  continued 
careless  about  their  eternal  destiny.  No 
sooner  did  the  Holy  Spirit  make  them  alive 
to  their  spiritual  welfare,  no  sooner  did  he 
convince  them  of  their  guilt  and  danger, 
than  the  same  wonder  came  on  them,  that 
this  text  describes.  They  wondered  at 
many  things,  at  their  former  unconcern, 
their  former  blindness,  the  patience  of  God 
in  bearing  with  them,  his  goodness  in  dis- 
covering to  them  their  folly,  his  amazing 
grace  in  providing  for  them  a  Saviour  ;  but 
what  they  wonder  at  almost  as  much  as 
any  thing,  is  the  mountain  of  difficulties 
wliich  lies  between  them  and  heaven.  A 
little  while  ago  they  thought  there  was 
nothing  to  do,  and  if  there  had  been  ever 
so  much,  they  would  have  felt  they  could 
do  it.  They  feel  now  that  they  can  do 
nothing,  and"  yet  more  tlian  they  dare  think 
of,  they  see  must  be  done  before  they  can 
be  saved.  Some  of  you  perhaps  at  this 
present  hour  may  be  nearly  in  this  frame 
of  mind.  You  may  be  astonished  out  of 
measure  at  the  difficulties  before  you.  See 
here  then  that  others  have  been  astonished 
before  you,  and  they  men  who  are  now  in 
heaven.  Your  wonder  will  not  save  your 
.souls,  but  it  is  a  token  for  good.  It  is  a 
proof  that  you  differ  in  one  thing  from  the 
merely  nominal  Chri.stian,  and  resemble  in 
one  thing  the  true  disciples  of  your  Lord. 
God  grant  that  you  may  soon  resemble 
them  in  many  things ! 

The  other"  feeling  we  discover  in  these 
men  is  despair,  or  something  very  much 
like  it.  "  Who,"  they  ask,  "  can  be 
saved  ?"  And  they  do  not  ask  this  ques- 
tion for  information.  They  do  not  address 
it  to  Christ,  nor  do  they  seem  to  expect  any 
answer  to  it.  They  speak  like  men  who 
are  tempted  to  givt.  up  all  for  lost,  or  have 
already  done  to.  "  They  say  among  them- 
selves,' Who  then  can  Le  saved  ?"  It  is 
another  way  of  saying,  "  None  can  be 
saved  :  we  must  all  be  lost." 

And  this  also  among  young  di.sciples  is 
still  a  common  feeling.  When  it  pleases 
God  to  call  us  out  of  our  natural  state  of 
ignorance,  and  we  begin  to  discover  for  the 
first  time  the  spiritual  difficulties  before  us, 
we  are  not  always  at  once  dismayed  by 
them.  We  behold  them  rising  up  one  after 
another  in  our  way  ;   but  though  astonished 


lo2 


THE  DISCIPLES  PONDERING  AT  THE 


and  alarmed,  we  try  to  grapple  with  thern 
and  hope  to  overcome  them.  Like  young 
soldiers  who  have  never  faced  an  enemy, 
we  are  eager  for  the  conflict  and  calculate 
on  an  easy  victory.  But  this  does  not  last 
long.  ^  Scarcely  is  the  battle  begun,  when 
W'e  think  of  a  retreat.  We  are  soon  taught 
that  though  so  much  is  to  be  done,  we  can 
do  nothing ;  and  ignorant  as  yet  of  the 
strength  provided  for  us,  we  are  ready  to 
say,  with  feelings  of  wonder  and  sorrow, 
"  The  work  never  can  be  accomplished  : 
our  lost  souls  never  can  be  saved."  Easier 
for  a  camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  nee- 
dle, than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  God  ?  "  Yes,"  we  say,  "  any 
thing  would  be  easier  than  for  men  like  us 
to  enter  there."  And  then  comes  into  the 
heart  a  feeling  of  sorrow  and  despair,  that 
well  nigh  breaks  it ;  or  worse — a  feeling 
which  tempts  us  to  turn  aside  altogether 
from  God.  See  it  at  work  in  desponding 
Israel.  "  There  is  no  hope  ;  no  ;  for  1 
have  loved  strangers,  and  after  them  will  I 
go."  ^  And  again  ;  "  There  is  no  hope,  but 
we  will  walk  after  our  own  devices,  and 
we  will  every  one  do  the  imagination  of  his 
evil  heart."  A  painful  state  of  mind, 
brethren,  and  a  most  dangerous  one  ;  but 
thousands  have  been  brought  into  it  by  the 
unexpected  difficulties  they  have  met  with 
in  the  ways  of  God.  And  if  we  look  at 
these  difficulties  alone,  we  certainly  shall 
be  brought  into  it.  Turn  to  Israel  in  the 
wilderness.  We  wonder  at  their  folly  as 
we  sec  them  looking  back  with  desire  to  the 
land  of  their  captivity,  and  why  ?  We 
think  of  the  Canaan  before  them,  and  the 
cloud  and  pillar  above  them,  and  the  pres- 
ence and  aid  of  their  mighty  God.  But 
lose  sight  of  all  these  ;  think  only  of  the 
burning  sands  of  that  wilderness,  its  howl- 
ing wastes,  its  wearisome  journeyings,  and 
its  continually  recurring  hardships  and  dis- 
appointments ;  and  do  we  v/onder  now  that 
Israel  grew  tired  of  it  and  wished  for 
Egypt  ?  We  wonder  rather  that  they  con- 
tinued for  forty  years  to  travel  on  in  it. 
One  thing  is  most  certain — we  must  learn 
to  look  beyond  our  spiritual  difficulties,  if 
ever  we  would  be  carried  over  them. 

in.  Let  us  come  now  to  our  Lord's  judsr. 
merit  concerning  this  matter.  The  disci- 
ples wondered  and  despaired  at  the  difficul- 
ties of  salvation.  The  question  is — were 
they  ngiit  or  wrong  in  doing  so  ? 

Of  tiieir  wonder,  Christ  takes  no  notice 


whatever;  at  least,  he  says  nothinc  to 
them  concerning  it.  A  sinner  in  his  way 
to  heaven  will  be  continually  wondering, 
and  the  Lord  Jesus  will  leave  him  to  won- 
der on  ;  yea,  will  be  continually  deepen- 
ing his  wonder  by  revealing  to  him  moi-e 
and  more  of  the  mysteries  of  his  kinijdom. 
And  O  how  will  he  wonder  at  last,"  when 
he  finds  himself  in  the  presence  of  Jeiio- 
vah,  and  in  the  blaze  of  his  glory  ! 

But  our  Lord  does  not  leave  tlie  despair 
of  these  men  unnoticed.  As  soon  as  he 
sees  it,  he  seeks  to  remove  it.  "  Who," 
they  ask,  "  can  be  saved  ?  And  Jesus 
looking  upon  them,  saith.  With  men  it  is 
impossible,  but  not  with  God."  In  this 
answer,  you  perceive,  he  partly  confirms 
and  partly  sets  aside  the  estimate  they  had 
formed  of  the  difficulties  we  are  consider- 
ing. "  You  are  right,"  he  says,  "  up  to  a 
certain  point ;  beyond  that  you  are  alto- 
gether  wrong." 

They  were  ■parlially  right.  Their  ques- 
tion implies  that  it  is  exceedingly  difficult 
for  any  man  to  overcome  the  obstacles  be- 
tween him  and  heaven.  "  It  is  so,"  an- 
swers Christ ;  "  nay,  it  is  more  than  difii- 
cult,  it  is  impracticable  ;  by  human  power, 
the  thing  can  in  no  case  be  done.  With 
men,  it  is  impossible."  And  this  is  the 
point,  brethren,  to  which  it  is  so  hard  to 
bring  a  sinner  ;  to  bring  him,  I  mean,  to 
despair,  not  of  salvation,  but  of  his  own 
power  to  attain  salvation  ;  to  lead  him  to 
see  that  he  is  as  weak  as  he  is  sinful,  and 
helpless  as  well  as  weak;  to  make  him 
feel  that  he  can  do  no  more  by  his  own 
strength  to  save  his  soul,  than  he  can  to  lift 
up  a  mountain  or  create  a  world.  And 
this  is  the  point  to  which  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  for  every  man  to  be  brought. 
Strange  as  it  may  sound,  it  is  yet  most 
true — till  men  are  persuaded  they  can  do 
nothing,  nothing  in  this  case  wilftliey  ever 
do.  We  never  take  one  step  towards 
heaven  till  we  feel  we  are  spiritually  crip- 
pled, and  have  not  power  to  move.  Self- 
sufficiency,  like  self- righteousness,  is  a  ru- 
inous thing.  It  is  an  insurmountable  ob- 
stacle in  our  journey  heavenward.  And 
therefore  to  beat  it  down,  our  Lord  says 
here,  "With  men  it  is  impossible;"  and 
therefore  too  he  makes  in  another  place 
that  startling  declaration,  "  No  man  can 
come  to  me,  except  the  Father  which  hath 
sent  me,  draw  liiin."  Mark,  he  does  not 
say,  "  No  man  can  be  saved  by  me,"  but, 


DIFFICULTIES  OF  SALVATION. 


183 


"  No  man  can  come  to  me  for  salvation, 
can  really  apply  to  mc  or  ask  me  for  it, 
except  God  bring  him." 

Bill  these  disci[)le$  were  also  wrong. 
Tlicir  question  intimates  that  the  salvation 
of  the  soul  is  attended  with  such  difficul- 
ties, that  no  man  living  has  power  to  over- 
come them.  And  this  is  true,  answers 
Christ.  But  then  they  go  further,  and  im- 
ply that  these  difficulties  can  in  no  way  be 
surmounted.  It  is  clear  that  they  had 
n»an's  power  only  in  their  mind  ;  they 
rever  thought  of  any  other  power  being 
brought  to  bear  on  the  impediments  they 
were  wondering  at ;  and  hence  they  came 
to  a  wrong  conclusion  concerning  them. 
But  our  Lord  sets  them  right.  Looking 
earnestly  upon  them,  as  though  he  pitied 
their  ignorance  and  yet  was  almost  ready 
to  upbraid  them  for  it,  he  says  to  them, 
'•  Witii  men  it  is  impossible,  but  not  with 
God."  He  tells  them  there  was  one  truth 
they  had  quite  lost  siglit  of — the  saving  of 
a  guilty  soul  was  never  intended  to  be 
man's  work  ;  God  himself  has  taken  it 
into  his  own  hands.  And  then  he  reminds 
them,  that  whatever  God  undertakes,  he 
can  perform.  "  With  him,"  he  says,  "  all 
things  are  possible  ;  and  if  all  things,  then 
your  salvation.  No  matter  what  impedi- 
ments are  lying  in  the  way,  there  is  Om- 
nipotence to  carry  you  over  them.  There 
is  the  power  that  created  you,  the  power 
that  built  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  the 
power  that  reaches  to  every  living  thing, 
to  angels  in  heaven  and  angels  in  hell,  to 
every  heart  which  beats  on  the  earth  and 
can  do  with  every  heart  just  what  it  will — 
there  is  this  for  you  to  hope  in.  There  is 
Jehovah's  own  right  hand  already  stretch- 
ed out  for  you,  and  that  hand  will  never 
leave  one  who  is  my  true  disciple,  short  of 
heaven." 

And  observe  how  compassionately  he 
says  this.  He  himself  was  the  mighty  God, 
yet  because  his  power  was  now  hidden  be- 
neath the  semblance  of  human  weakness, 
he  makes  here  no  mention  of  it.  Remem- 
bering the  low  conceptions  his  disciples  had 
of  him,  and  anxious  to  lift  them  at  once 
above  their  despondency,  he  reminds  them 
at  once,  not  of  his  own,  but  of  God's  om- 
nipotence. We  know  what  he  might  have 
said.  "  Who,  you  ask,  can  be  saved  ?  O 
fools  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe,  why,  ev- 
ery one  that  comes  to  me  fir  salvation. 
You  deem  me  merciful  and  gracious  only, 


willing  to  save  sinners  if  I  can  ;  but  I  am 
mighty  to  save,  yea,  almighty  ;  I  can  save 
the  guiltiest  and  I  can  save  the  weakest. 
You  yourselves  have  already  felt  mv  pow- 
er ;  with  one  word  I  brought  you  from  your 
fishing  nets  and  your  seats  of  custom  to 
follow  me  ;  and  you  shall  soon  feel  it  more. 
Before  me  these  mountains  that  trouble 
you,  shall  become  a  plain.  I  will  work 
for  you  and  I  will  work  within  you.  You 
shall  wonder  at  my  power.  You  shall  say 
that  I  am  able  to  save  them  to  the  utter- 
most that  would  come  unto  God  by  me." 
O  brethren,  what  an  amazing  mercy  is  it 
that  there  should  be  a  possibility  of  salva- 
tion in  any  way  for  sinners  such  as  we  ! 
and  what  amazing  condescension,  that  the 
living  God  should  have  made  it  possible  by 
taking  the  difficult  work  out  of  our  hands 
into  his  own  ! 

And  here  ends  the  text.  Let  me  briefly 
apply  it  to  three  classes  of  persons  among 
us. 

Some  of  you  know  nothing  at  all  of  the 
difficulties  of  salvation.  You  are  going  to 
heaven,  you  think,  but  you  are  going  there 
with  so  little  effort  or  labor,  that  you  can 
scarcely  tell  what  a  spiritual  difficulty 
means.  All  I  would  say  to  you  is,  judge 
for  yourselves — docs  such  a  religion  as 
yours  harmonize  with  the  language  of  these 
disciples,  and  vvith  the  language  of  our 
Lord  ?  Compare  it  with  this  scripture. 
Bring  it  only  to  the  test  of  this  one  text.  If 
it  will  not  bear  the  trial,  what  is  it  worth  ? 
O  be  persuaded  to  cast  the  base  thing  away ! 
Like  that  of  the  young  man  in  this  chapter, 
it  may  do  many  things,  and  observe  many 
things,  but  it  is  as  surely  a  counterfeit,  as 
the  blessed  book  which  contains  this  text 
is  true. 

Others  of  you,  like  these  disciples,  have 
just  begun  to  see  the  difficulties  that  lie  before 
you.  They  dishearten  perhaps  as  well  as 
astonish  you ;  but  to  you  also  we  would  say, 
judge  for  yourselves — ought  they  to  dis- 
hearten you  ?  We  can  point  to  "this  text, 
and  tell  you  that  you  have  no  more  reason 
to  be  discouraged  on  account  of  them,  than 
as  though  they  had  no  existence.  Difficul- 
ties they  certainly  are,  and  quite  as  numer- 
ous and  formidable  as  you  suppose  them  ; 
and  God  will  not  at  once  remove  them  out 
of  your  way,  nor  alter  their  nature.  Tliere 
they  stand,  and  you  must  get  over  them. 
Nay,  he  calls  on  you  to  face  them  and  get 
over  them.     He  demands  of  you  in  your 


184 


REST  IN  CHRIST  FOR  THE  HEAVY-LADEN. 


weakness  as  much  efibrt  and  as  many 
achievements,  as  though  you  possessed  more 
than  an  angel's  strength.  "  The  kingdom  of 
heaven  suffereth  violence,"  he  says,  "  and 
the  violent  take  it  by  force."  And  how  is 
this  ?  The  question  is  answered  in  a  mo- 
ment— you  may  make  use  of  his  strength 
as  your  own.  You  may  turn  to  him  for  as 
much  as  you  need  of  it,  and  whenever  you 
wish  to  turn  to  him,  and  he  will  give  you 
more  of  it  than  you  ask.  He  will  "  grant 
you  to  be  strengthened  with  might  bv  his 


Spirit  in  the  inner  man. 


Dr 


Yes. 


nothing  so  reasonable  and  right  when  we 
think  of  ourselves  ;  nothing  more  unreason- 
able when  we  think  of  God.  An  infant  in 
a  tender  mother's  arms  might  as  well  say, 
"  I  must  perish,  for  I  cannot  stand  ;"  or  a 
man  with  a  monarch's  treasures  at  his  com- 
mand, say,  "  I  must  starve,  for  I  have  not 
in  my  purse  a  mite."  The  design  of  this 
scrii)lure  in  your  case  is  two- fold.  It  is 
intended,  on  the  one  hand,  to  make  you 
feel  that  you  are  utterly  helpless  ;  and,  on 
the  other,  to  show  you  that  you  have  within 
your  reach  a  strength  that  is  boundless. 
"Cursed  is  he  that  maketh  flesh  his  arm," 
it  says  ;  and  then  it  says  again,  "  Trust  ye 
in  the  Lord  for  ever,  for  in  the  Lord  Jeho- 
vah is  everlasting  strength."  And  what 
ought  your  answer  to  be?  God  himself 
tells  you;  "Let  the  weak  say,  I  am  strong." 
A  prophet  tells  you  ;  "  Surely,  shall  one 
say,  in  the  Lord  have  I  righteousness  and 
strength."  And  an  apostle  also;  "lean 
do  all  things  through  Christ  which  strength- 
eneth  me." 

A  few  of  you  perhaps  have  been  long  ac- 
customed to  spiritual  difficulties.  If  so,  you 
have  been  long  familiar  also  with  a  stren'^th 
which  has  enabled  you  to  surmount  them. 
This  scripture  bids  you  think  of  the  re- 
mainder of  your  course  without  fear.  A 
little  more  struggling  you  certainly  will 
have  ;  perhaps  much  more,  and  that  of  a 
severer  kind  than  any  you  have  yet  endur- 
ed ;  but  what  matters  it  ?  "  With  God  all 
.hings  are  possible."  Your  trials  may 
seem  to  have  weakened  you,  to  have  e.x- 
hausted  your  strength,  and  to  have  render- 
ed you  less  equal  for  future  efforts  :  but 
what  was  your  strength  at  fir.st  ?  Greater 
than  now  ?  No  ;  it  was  then  perfect  weak- 
ness. And  what  if  it  could  be  less  now  ? 
'  The  Lord  fainteth  not,  neither  is  weary." 
He  is  as  strong  now  as  when  with  his  omni- 
potent hand  he  first  led  you  out  of  a  wicked 


world,  and  that  hand  shall  perfect  tha. 
which  concerneth  you.  The  creature's 
utter  hel])les.sness,  the  all-sufficiency  of  the 
great  God,  your  Saviour — keep  only  these 
two  things  in  mmd,  and,  through  the  power 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  you  shall  be  carried 
triumphantly  to  glory.  None  shall  be  saved 
if  vou  are  lost. 


SERMON  XXXIX. 

THE    FIFTH    SUNDAY    AFTER    TRINITY. 

REST  IN  CHRIST  FOR  THE  HEAVY-LADEN. 

St.  Matthew  xi.  28. — "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye 
that  labor  and  are  heavy-laden,  and  I  icilt  give 
you  rest." 

How  very  frequently  have  we  heard  and 
read  this  gracious  invitation  !  Have  we 
ever  really  complied  v/ith  it  ?  I  pray  God 
that  it  may  reach  some  heart  this  day,  that 
has  never  before  been  affected  by  it';  and 
O  that  many  of  you  would  now  put  up  this 
prayer,  each  one  for  himself,  "  Lord,  let 
that  heart  be  mine  !" 

Flere  is  a  blessing  offered  to  us,  and  we 
are  told  four  things  concerning  it — first, 
what  it  is  ;  secondly,  who  gives  it ;  thirdly, 
who  may  have  it ;  and,  lastly,  how  they 
may  obtain  it. 

I.  We  are  told  tchat  it  is.  Our  Lord 
calls  it  "  rest,"  but  it  is  not  the  rest  most  of 
us  wish  for.  Some  of  us  want  rest  in  sin. 
We  want  to  walk  in  our  own  ways  and  fol- 
low our  own  pleasure,  and  not  be  disquieted 
while  we  are  doing  so.  There  is  the  woi-ld- 
ly-minded  man — ^he  wants  to  have  a  flour- 
ishing business  and  no  anxiety  with  it,  and 
much  property  without  any  care  coming 
out  of  it.  And  there  is  the  proud  and  vain 
man — he  wants  a  great  deal  of  respect  and 
honor  in  the  world,  with  nothing  to  mortify 
or  vex  him.  All  such  men  might  as  well 
say,  "  Let  us  lie  down  among  thorns,  and 
not  one  of  them  ever  pierce  us." 

Nor  is  the  rest  here  ofl^ered  us,  that  wliich 
the  godly  part  of  us  often  long  for.  You 
want  rest  from  trouble,  brethren,  or  rest 
from  temptation,  or  rest  from  the  world's 
hatred  and  ill  treatment,  or  else,  more  than 
all,  rest  from  inward  struggles  and  warfare. 
But  you  also  must  be  disappointed.     You 


REST  IX  CHRIST  FOR  THE  HEAVY-LADEN. 


185 


cannot  have  wha;  you  want;  or,  if  you 
have  ii  for  a  while,  it  will  soon  be  gone.  It 
is  something  to  be  hoped  for  and  waited  for, 
not  at  present  enjoyed. 

The  rest  our  Lord  speaks  of  is,  first,  rest 
from  sin,  not  in  it ;  and  then  rest  in  trouble, 
not  from  it. 

It  is  rest  from  sin  ;  rest  from  the  guilt  of 
it ;  a  pacified  and  quiet  conscience  ;  not  a 
dead  conscience,  but  one  tliat  is  alive,  and 
works,  and  has  in  times  past  grievously 
tormented  us,  but  now  torments  us  no  long- 
er. There  is  a  voice  which  has  said  to  it 
from  heaven,  "  Thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee," 
and  that  gives  it  peace. 

And  it  is  a  rest  from  the  power  and  mise- 
ry of  sin.  O  how  this  accursed  thing  leads 
some  of  us  captive !  and  how  miserable  it 
makes  us  while  it  does  so  !  Now  and  then 
indeed  comes  a  little  pleasure  from  it,  but 
such  pleasure  !  it  ends,  and  ends  soon,  in 
gall  and  bitterness.  And  God  will  not  alter 
the  nature  of  things  to  save  us  from  this 
suffering  and  disappointment.  Sin  and  mise- 
ry ever  have  gone  together  in  his  universe, 
and,  as  long  as  he  is  Lord  of  it,  ever  will. 
What  we  really  need  is  to  have  the  love 
of  sin  subdued  in  us,  and  its  power  broken. 
What  we  require  is,  not  to  have  the  world 
altered,  but  ourselves ;  not  to  have  the  ob- 
jects around  us  become  less  disappointing 
and  harassing,  but  to  care  less  about  them ; 
to  be  crucified  to  the  world  and  weaned 
from  it ;  to  live  in  fact  above  it.  And  all 
this  can  be  done.  And  when  by  God's 
Spirit  it  is  done  in  the  soul,  the  soul  enters 
into  rest.  It  begins  to  know,  for  the  first 
time  in  its  existence,  what  real  quietness 
means. 

And  this  rest,  observe  again,  is  rest  in 
trouble. 

"  I  will  not  t&ke  trouble  from  you,"  says 
the  Lord  Jesus.  "  If  you  are  my  people,  I 
cannot.  It  is  one  of  the  things  appointed 
for  you  in  the  everlasting  covenant.  But 
here  notwithstanding  is  rest  for  you,  here 
is  quietness  of  mind  for  you,  in  the  very 
thick  of  trouble."  It  is  a  rest  from  self- 
will,  that  he  oflx;rs  us,  from  unbelief,  from 
impatience.  It  consists  mainly  in  a  willing- 
ness to  be  a  filleted,  in  inward  consolations 
imparted  while  we  are  afilicted,  in  a  settled 
hope  of  a  happy  issue  to  our  afilittions,  and 
in  a  strength  which  enables  us  to  sustain 
them.  "Let  me  leave  the  field,"  cries  the 
soldier  ;  "  give  me  rest."  "  No,"  says  the 
general,  "  the  battle  is  not  over  ;  you  must 
24 


stay  here  and  fight :"  but  he  gives  the  sol- 
dier refreshment ;  he  sends  him  aid  and  re- 
lief; he  cheers  him  on  with  liis  voice  and 
presence  ;  he  enables  him  to  beat  down 
foe  after  foe  ;  the  man  sees  a  final  victory 
and  triumph  before  him,  and  what  cares  he 
now  about  the  rest  he  wanted  ?  "I  have 
a  better  rest  here,"  he  says ;  "  rest  amid 
toil  and  conflict.  The  victories  I  am  gain- 
ing refresh  me  ;  and  if  they  did  not,  my 
general's  presence  would,  and  the  glory 
before  me  would.  I  shall  soon  have  a 
crown  of  life."  And  this,  you  remember, 
is  the  sense  attached  to  this  passage  in  our 
sacramental  service  ;  "  Come  unto  me,  and 
I  will  refresh  you;"  that  is,  strengthen 
and  comfort  you. 

We  see  then  what  the  blessing  is,  which 
the  text  offers  us.  It  is  rest — rest  in  trou- 
ble and  rest  from  sin. 

II.  And  now  for  another  inquiry — of 
u'Jwm  is  this  blessing  to  he  oitained  ?  "  It  is 
to  be  ol)tained  of  me,"  says  the  Lord  Jesus. 
"  I  will  give  it  you." 

And  mark  the  conscious  greatness  these 
few  simple  words  indicate.  We  are  ac- 
customed to  admire  their  graciousness  only, 
but  there  is  a  wonderful  loftiness  in  them, 
a  breaking  forth  of  the  Saviour's  majesty 
and  Godhead. 

Have  you  often  tried,  brethren,  to  com- 
fort a  troubled  heart  ?  If  so,  you  must 
have  found  that-  the  work  is  frequently  be- 
yond your  power.  It  is  always  beyond  it, 
unless  it  pleases  God  to  make  use  of  you 
as  an  instrument  to  perform  it.  No  crea- 
ture can  give  rest  to  a  restless  soul.  All 
creatures  together  could  not  do  it.  Were 
all  the  men  and  angels  in  existence  to  be 
striving  together  to  put  peace  into  only 
one  aching  heart,  they  would  strive  in  vain. 
It  is  the  great  prerogative  of  him  who  made 
the  soul,  to  impart  rest  to  it.  No  other 
can.  "  I,"  he  says,  "  create  the  fruit  of 
the  lips.  Peace,  peace  to  him  that  i>  far 
ofTand  to  him  that  is  nigh,  saith  the  Lord." 
"  My  presence  shall  go  with  thee,  and  I 
will  give  thee  rest."  But  here  comes  our 
Lord  claiming  this  high  prerogative  of  Je- 
hovah for  himself.  ■  He  takes  up  Jehovah's 
own  lofty  language,  and  says,  "  I  will  give 
you  rest.  I  will  refresh  you."  He  does 
not  say,  as  the  prophets  of  old  did,  "  Turn 
to  the  Lord,  and  the  Lord  will  comfort 
you;"  but,  "  Come  to  me,  and  I  will  com- 
fort you."  The  reason  is,  he  who  spake 
these  words,  is  himself  the  Lord  of  hosts ; 


186 


REST  IN  CHRIST  FOR  THE  HEAVY-LADEN. 


this  gracious  Saviour  is  himself  the  ever-  !  W 
lasting  Jehovah.  The  Being  who  tells  us 
here  that  he  has  rest  for  us,  is  the  source 
of  all  happiness,  the  spring  from  which 
flows,  as  from  a  fountain,  all  the  bliss  of 
heaven.  All  heaven  rejoices  in  him,  and 
lives  upon  him,  and  looks  up  to  In'm  as  its 
light  and  glory.  And  he  is  the  Being  too 
who  has  all  hearts  at  his  command,  and 
can  do  with  them  whatsoever  he  will  ;  fill 
them  to  the  full  with  sorrow  and  bitter- 
ness, or  make  them  overflow,  if  it  so  pleases 
him,  with  comfort  and  joy.  It  is  clear  then 
that  we  are  not  invited  in  this  scripture  to 
come  for  rest  to  one  who  has  no  rest  to 
give  us,  or  not  enough  for  all  of  us.  There 
is  more  power  in  him  to  comfort,  than  there 
is  in  the  world,  or  in  any  thing,  to  disquiet. 
There  is  more  comfort  in  him  for  sinners, 
than  there  is  water  in  the  ocean  or  light  in 
the  sun.  His  invitation  is  given  with  all 
the  fearlessness  of  conscious  abundance ; 
and  for  this  reason — he  knows  that  he  has 
enough  and  to  spare  for  a  whole  suffering 
world. 

in.  And  now  comes  a  third  question — 
who  may  obtain  iliis  rest  from  him?  Here 
is  a  great  blessing  offered  us  ;  who  may 
have  it  ?  Every  one,  the  text  says,  who 
desires  or  needs  it — they  "that  labor  and 
are  heavy-laden,"  and  "all"  of  fhen). 

Would  it  be  possible,  brethren,  for  two 
words  to  express  more  naturally  the  in- 
ward condition  of  man  ?  Our  Lord  shows 
his  knowledge  of  our  hearts,  as  well  as  his 
compassion  towards  us,  in  making  use  of 
them.  We  do  indeed  "  labor."  The  word 
in  the  original  signifies  to  toil,  to  labor  to 
weariness  and  faintness.  It  is  the  same 
word  that  is  used  when  our  Lord  is  de- 
scribed as  sitting  down  near  Jacob's  well, 
"  wearied  with  his  journey."  So  Jeremiah 
says  of  the  wicked,  that  they  "  weary  them- 
selves to  commit  iniquity."  And  how  true 
is  this !  Who  can  seek  his  happiness 
away  from  God,  and  not  grow  tired  indeed 
in  the  search  1  Some 
perhaps,  "  We  can 


have  found  them  so.  Our  souls  ar? 
weary  of  it."  You  may  now  think  the 
service  of  God  a  hard  ser\ice,  but  it  is  not 
half  so  hard  as  you  will  one  day  think  an 
evil  world's  service.  Nothing  so  toilsome 
as  going  about  seeking  rest  and  finding 
none,  laboring  to  satisfy  an  immortal  soul 
with  mortal  things.  It  is  compared,  in  the 
tenth  chapter  of  Ecclesiastes,  to  a  man's 
wearying  himself  to  reach  a  city  that  he 
cannot  tind.  And  look  through  'that  book 
— more  tlian  twenty  times  over  is  the 
worldly  man's  life  expressed  in  it  by  tliis 
one  word  "  labor."  Do  any  of  you  under- 
stand this  ?  Am  I  speaking  to  any  who 
feel  well  nigh  worn  out  with  toils,  and 
cares,   and    disappointments  ?      Then    you 


of   you   may  say 
the  world  has  not  yet 


tired  us."  But  who  are  you  that  say 
You  are  young  men.  The  day  of  life  is 
"""ircely  begun  with  you  ;  you  know  no- 
loat  and   burden. 


thing  vet  of  its  noontide  h 


Labor  on  in  the  world  till  the  evening  of 
life  comes,  and  what  will  you  say  then  ? 
We  can  tell  you.  You  wHl  say,  "  The 
world  has  not  only  deceived  us,  it  has  worn 
us  out.     All  things  in  it  are  full  of  labor. 


are  among  the  men  whom  the  blessed  J„ 
sus  had  in  his  mind,  when  he  uttered  these 
words.     There  is  re.st  in  him  for  you. 

And  then  comes  another  word,  "the 
heavy-laden."  This  also  describes  some 
of  us  well.  It  represents  us  as  carrying 
about  a  burden,  and  a  burden  heavier  than 
we  can  well  bear. 

There  is  the  burden  of  affliction.  Are 
any  of  you  sinking  under  that?  feeling 
that  you  could  not  possibly  bear  more  than 
you  are  now  bearing,  and"^  fearful  that  you 
cannot  bear  even  this  long  ?  Then  you 
doubtless  are  included  in  this  invitation. 
You  may  not  be  God's  people,  you  may 
never  yet  have  served  God  or  sought  him  ; 
but  you  are  heavy-laden,  and  that  is 
enough  ;  there  is  rest  in  Christ  for  you. 

There  is  the  burden  of  guilt  also.  And 
what  burden  so  heavy  as  this?  It  is  a 
crushing  load.  It  fell  on  the  world,  and 
the  world  became  a  ruin.  It  brought  down 
angels  from  heaven,  and  sunk  them  into 
a  bottomless  deep.  And  when  it  was  laid 
on  the  mighty  Saviour,  he  who  had  borne 
so  much,  could  scarcely  find  strength  to 
bear  this  :  he  cried  out  in  the  anguish  of 
his  soul  for  deliverance  from  it.  But  we 
must  feel  it  ourselves,  in  order  to  under- 
stand what  it  is.  Some  of  you  perhaps  are 
feeling  it  now.  It  has  pleased  God,  by  his 
all-powerful  Spirit,  to  open  your  under- 
standing  and  awaken  your  conscience.  He 
has  spread  out  your  sins  before  you,  and 
forced  you  to  look  at  them.  And  if  so, 
you  do  indeed  "groan  being  burdened." 
There  is  a  weight  on  your  soul  heavier 
than  all  the  sorrows  of  life  could  put  there, 
and  one  which  you  find  you  cannot  throw 
I  off.     You  MTDuld  give  all  you  have  in  the 


REST  IN  CHRIST  FOR  THE  HEAVY-LADEN. 


187 


world  to  get  rid  of  it,  and  leap  for  joy  to 
give  it.  You  would  bo  the  poorest  beggar 
that  ever  begged  his  bread  from  door  to 
door,  so  that  your  mountain  of  guilt  might 
be  removed  off  you.  Brethren,  if  there  is 
rest  for  any  one  in  Christ,  there  is  rest  in 
him  for  you.  He  is  a  Saviour  from  sor- 
row, but  he  does  not  take  his  name  of  Sa- 
viour from  that — he  is  a  Saviour  from  sin. 
All  that  guilt  which  is  now  alarming  and 
oppressing  you,  he  is  able  to  remove  from 
you ;  to  cast  it,  he  says,  into  th(>  depths  of 
the  sea;  yea,  to  destroy  it.  What  you 
want  is  pardon,  and  such  a  pardon  as  will 
secure  you  forever  from  God's  condemna- 
tion ;  and  here  it  is.  Such  a  pardon  the 
Lord  Jesus  has  bought  for  you,  and  bought 
it  at  the  price  of  his  own  blood.  He  died 
on  tiie  cross  at  Jerusalem,  that  he  might 
obtain  it  for  you ;  he  is  gone  up  to  his 
til  rone  in  the  heavens,  that  he  may  bestow 
it  on  you.  Would  it  bring  you  rest?  Is 
it  tiie  very  thing  above  all  others,  that  your 
souls  desire  ?  Then  his  language  to  you 
is,  "Come  unto  me  and  I  will  give  it  you. 
I  can  give  it  you.  I  have  it  to  give.  Me 
hath  my  Father  e.xalted  with  his  right  hand 
to  be  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour,  for  to  give 
repentance  to  Israel  and  forgiveness  of 
sins." 

And  let  me  just  say,  that  to  go  to  Christ 
for  any  other  blessing,  and  not  to  go  to  him 
for  this,  is  to  trifle  with  him.  To  ask  him 
for  comfort  under  trouble,  while  there  is  a 
load  of  guilt  on  us  sinking  us  into  hell,  is 
folly  indeed.  As  well  might  a  sick  man 
ask  a  physician  for  every  thing  but  medi- 
cine to  Ileal  him,  or  a  starving  man  say, 
"  Give  me  this  and  give  me  that,"  but  nev- 
er, though  dying  for  want  of  it,  "  Give  me 
food . ' ' 

There  is  yet  another  burden — the  burden 
of  our  corruptions,  the  evil  workings  of  our 
own  evil  hearts.  The  weight  of  these 
many  of  us  do  not  feel,  or,  if  we  do  feel  it, 
we  are  content  to  bear  it.  Go  round  this 
congregation — many  here  would  say,  "  Our 
hearts  are  in  the  main  good.  You  speak 
of  inward  corruptions,  but  we  are  free  from 
such  things."  Others  would  say,  "  We 
have  them,  we  know  ;  but  they  give  us  no 
pain,  or  very  little."  But  let  a  kw  here 
speak.  "  O,"  they  would  say,  "  these  are 
our  burdens.  These  are  the  things  we 
find  it  hard  to  bear.  Here  witliin  our  own 
breasts  lie  our  troubles."  And  the  men 
A'ho  would  say  this,  are  the  best  and  holiest 


jofusall.     Think  of  Paul.     The  very  re- 
j  mainder  of  these  things  made  him  groan. 
I  "  O  wretched  man  tiiat  I  am,"  he  cries  out, 
'"  who  .shall  deliver  me  from  the  Ijody  of 
this  death  ?"  this  hated,  loathsome,  intoler- 
jable  load.     Is  this  your  language,  breth- 
I  ren  ?     Then  you  also  may  turn  to  this  in- 
'  vitation,   and    say,  it   is    meant    for  you. 
There  is  a   rest   in  Christ   from  sin,  a  rest 
from  it  on  earth,  a   partial   though   not  a 
complete   rest  ;  and   you   who  are   heavy, 
laden  with  sin,  are  invited  to  seek  it  in  him. 
'  We  know  not  how  much  Clirist  can  do  for 
us  under  any  burden  till  we  try  him,  and 
j  if  there  is  any  one  thing  in  which  he  does 
more  tiian  we  expect  from  him,  it  is  in  the 
victory   he  sometimes  gives   us  over  our 
own  hearts.     "  This  evil  desire,"  we  say, 
"  cannot  be   mastered  ;  this  inordinate  af- 
fection cannot  be  laid  low  ;"  but  it  is  mas- 
tered, it  is  laid  low.     We   are  obliged  to 
say  again  with  Paul,  "  I  thank  God  through 
Jesus  Christ  my  Lord." 

We  have  now  gone  through  the  greater 
part  of  the  text.  We  have  seen,  first,  what 
the  blessing  is,  which  it  offers  us  ;  then,  of 
whom  it  may  be  obtained ;  and  then,  who 
among  us  may  have  it. 

IV.  But  we  have  yet  a  fourth  point  to 
inquire  into,  and  that  is,  how  they  who  de- 
sire it,  may  obtain  it.  Our  Lord  says  they 
are  to  go  to'  him  for  it;  "Come  unto  me, 
and  I  will  give  it  you." 

But  what  does  he  mean  by  coming  to 
liim  ?  Even  when  he  was  on  earth,  he 
could  not  mean  by  it  literally  coming  into 
his  presence.  •  Judas  was  there,  and  mul- 
titudes of  other  sinners,  who  never  found 
rest  in  him  and  never  sought  it.  He  meant 
then,  and  he  means  now,  a  turning  of  the 
soul  to  him.  You  know  what  is  meant  by 
going  to  the  world  for  happiness — it  is  try- 
ing to  get  happiness  out  of  the  world  ;  it  is 
seeking  it  from  worldly  pursuits  and  ob- 
jects. Going  to  Christ  then  for  it,  is  to  put 
Christ  in  the  world's  place.  It  is  for  the 
burdened  soul  to  seek  its  rest  in  Christ,  just 
as  the  worldly  man  seeks  his  in  worldly 
things. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  coming  to  Christ 
is  the  same  as  believing  on  him,  and  it  is 
the  same;  but  then,  observe,  it  is  faith  in 
operation,  faith  leading  the  soul  to  act  on 
what  it  credits.  The  mere  belief  that  Christ 
has  rest  for  me,  will  not  of  itself  bring  it 
me.  any  more  tlian  knowing  there  was  a 
well  of  water  near  her,  would  have  saved 


188 


REST  IN  CHRIST  FOR  THE  HEAVY-LADEN. 


Hagar  from  perishing  in  the  wilderness. 
She  went  to  the  well,  took  water  fi-om  it, 
and  drank;  and  so  was  saved.  And  I,  if 
I  would  have  my  wearied  soul  repose  in 
Christ,  must  send  up  my  thoughts  and  de- 
sires to  Christ,  must  fasten  my  expectations 
on  him.  I  must,  by  his  Spirit  leading  me, 
come  to  him.  The  feelings  of  my  heart 
towards  him  must  be  feelings  of  "depend- 
ence, and  supplication,  and  hope.  "  I  know, 
Lord,  there  is  rest  in  thee  for  the  weary. 
Lord,  I  am  weary  ;  give  me  rest.  I  am 
oppressed,  undertake  for  me.  The  world 
cannot  help  me,  I  feel  that  it  cannot  ;  but 
thou  canst.  What  wait  I  for  ?  My  liope, 
my  only  hope,  is  in  thee." 

To  those  of  lis,  wJw  have  already  found 
rest  in  Christ,  I  would  say,  remember 
where  you  have  found  it.  Did  you  ever 
i'nvl  it  anywhere  before  you  found  it  here? 
When  your  liearts  ached,  could  the  world 
give  ease  to  them?  and  when  conscience 
accused  you,  could  your  own  righteous- 
ness, or  repentance,  or  any  thing  you  could 
suffer  or  do,  silence  it  ?  What  first  made 
you  quiet  and  happy  men  ?  You  will  all 
say  with  one  voice,  "  Our  quietness  came 
down  from  heaven.  The  Lord  Jesus  gave 
it  us.  He  told  us  of  his  great  atoning  sac- 
rifice, his  spotless  righteousness,  his  mighty 
intercession,  his  omnipotent  grace  ;  and  in 
these  we  first  found  rest,  and  find  it  still." 
What  you  are  .to  learn  from  this  scripture 
is,  never  for  one  moment  to  seek  it  else- 
where. You  are  not  to  treat  this  as  an  in- 
vitation given  to  the  awakened  sinner  only, 
as  an  invitation  you  have  accepted  and  done 
with.  You  are  to  regard  it  rather  as  the 
Saviour's  language  to  his  own  church  and 
people,  his  constant  language  to  you.  O 
make  this  your  prayer  whenever  you  read 
it  or  think  of  it,  that  you  may  look  on  him 
every  hour  you  live,  not  only  as  the  great 
Saviour  of  your  soul,  but  as  your  soul's 
happiness  and  rest. 

Let  those  of  us,  who  desire  to  find  rest 
in  Christ,  sec  here  on  what  easy  terms  they 
can  obtain  it.  "  Come  unto  me,"  he  says 
to  them,  "  and  I  will  give  it  you."  There 
is  rest  for  you,  for  every  one  of  you,  by 
simply  turning  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for 
it.  And  you  can  have  it,  brethren,  in  no 
other  way.  You  must  come  to  Christ  for  it 
if  you  ever  have  it.  None  but  he  can  give 
it  you  ;  and  he  will  never  give  it  you  un- 
less you  turn  to  him. 

And  see  here  too  that  he  is  willing  you 


should  turn  to  him  and  have  it.  Notice 
once  again  whom  he  invites.  He  does  not 
call  to  him  those  who  love,  or  trust,  or  serve 
bin:  He  does  not  say,  "Come,  my  re- 
deemed, my  beloved,  my  chosen."  He 
says,  "  Come,  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy- 
laden  ;  and  come,  all  of  you.  It  matters 
not  to  me  who  you  are  or  what ;  how  guilty 
or  how  miserable;  how  long  you  have  kept 
away  from  me,  or  how  much  you  deserve 
to  be  driven  away  from  me  now.  All  I 
ask  is,  are  you  weary  and  miserable  ?  Do 
you  feel  that  you  need  my  aid  and  must 
have  it?  O  then  come  to  me,  and  you 
shall  have  it !  And  come  to  me  now.  Come 
just  as  you  are,  guilty,  and  defiled,  and  bur- 
dened, and  wretched.  I  care  nothing  for  the 
height  of  your  guilt  or  the  depth  of  your  mis- 
ery. I  am  a  mighty  Saviour,  and  such  you 
shall  find  me.  You  shall  wonder,  and  won- 
der soon,  at  the  freeness  and  richness  of 
my  mercy,  and  you  shall  wonder  too  at  the 
sweetness  of  my  rest.  You  have  already 
made  one  discovery.  A  little  while  ago 
you  heard  of  the  bitterness  of  sin,  and  you 
did  not  believe  it  to  be  bitter,  but  you  feel 
its  bitterness  now.  There  is  yet  another 
discovery  you  have  to  make,  and  one  that 
will  surprise  you  more — it  is  the  peace 
which  is  to  be  found  in  me.  No  harbor  so 
sweet  to  the  storm-tossed  mariner,  as  I  ain 
to  the  disquieted  and  troubled  soul.  No 
home  so  pleasant  to  the  worn-out  traveller, 
as  I  am  to  the  wearied  sinner.  If  there  is 
happiness  on  earth,  it  is  to  be  found  at  my 
feet.  O  come  to  my  feet,  that  you  may 
taste  and  enjoy  it !" 

And  one  word  more.  I  speak  to  you  who 
knoiv  you  are  sinners,  hut  who  are  not  weary 
of  sin  ;  you  who  have  never  yet  felt  sin  a 
burden.  Read  this  te.vt.  It  is  a  very  gra- 
cious one  ;  but  is  it  not  also  one  that  may 
well  make  your  heart  ache  within  you  ? 
Christ  invites  to  him  the  weary  and  heavy- 
laden.  It  is  to  the  oppressed  and  burdened 
soul  he  says,  "Come  unto  me."  What 
does  he  say  to  you  ?  In  this  text,  nothing 
at  all.  And  look  through  the  whole  Bible 
— there  are  words  of  comfort  for  every 
class  of  sufferers,  many  thousands  of  them  ; 
but  for  men  such  as  you,  the  hard-hearted 
and  careless,  not  one.  It  is  a  fearful  sign 
of  God's  displeasure  against  a  man  to  leave 
him  alone  in  such  a  state  as  this ;  with  a 
mountain  of  guilt  upon  him,  to  allow  him 
to  feel  no  pain  or  pressure.  May  he  leave 
y.")u  alone  no  longer  !     It  may  seem  to  you 


REST  IN  HEAVEN  FOR  THE  TROUBLED. 


189 


a  strange  prayer,  but  O  may  the  living  God 
atllict  your  hearts  vvitli  a  cutting  sorrow! 
May  he  bruise  and  break  thcni  to  pieces! 
O  that  vou  mav  feel,  and  irol  soon,  as 
alarmed  as  tiie  Philippian  jailor,  when  he 
said,  "  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  as 
broken-hearted  as  Peter,  when  lie  "  went 
out  and  wept  bitterly  ;"  as  oppressed  in 
spirit  as  that  poor  publican  who  smote  on 
his  breast  and  said,  "God  be  merciful  to 
me  a  sinner  !" 


SERMON  XL. 

THE    SIXTH    SUNDAY    AFTER    TRINITY. 

REST  IN  HEAVEN  FOR  THE  TROUBLED. 

!2  Thessalonians  i.  6,  7. — "  It  is  a  righteous  thing 
with  God  to  recompense  tribulation  to  them  that 
trouble  you,  and  to  you  who  are  troubled,  rest 
with  us,  when  the  Lord  Jesus  shall  be  revealed 
from  heaven.'' 

We  have  here  a  troubled  Christian  speak- 
ing to  other  Clunstians  in  trouble.  He  is 
trying  to  comfort  them.  May  the  God  of 
all  consolation  grant  that  what  he  says  to 
them  to  comfort  them,  may  now  comfort 
some  of  you ! 

There  are  three  particulars  for  us  to 
consider  in  the  text — first,  the  term  applied 
in  it  to  our  Lord's  coming  ;  then,  the  dif- 
ferent portions  he  will  give  to  different 
persons  when  he  comes;  and  tlicn,  his 
righteousness  in  so  doing. 

L  Our  Lord's  coming,  you  observe,  is 
called  here  a  revealing  of  him ;  "  Tlie 
Lord  .Tesus  shall  be  revealed  from  heaven." 
And  this  is  not  a  merely  accidental  use 
of  the  word,  for  we  find  it  applied  in  the 
same  way  in  other  places;  "  Waiting  for 
the  coming,"  or,  as  it  is  in  the  margin  of 
our  Bibles,  "  for  the  revelation  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ."  Again;  "Be  sober,  and  hope 
to  the  end  for  the  grace  that  is  to  be  brought 
unto  us  at  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ." 

Now  to  reveal  is  to  uncover  any  thing 
that  has  before  been  hidden.  It  is  to  manifest 
it  or  make  it  visible.  And  this  may  be 
done  in  two  ways — either  spiritually  or  out- 
wardly ;  to  the  eye  of  the  mind  or  to  the 
bodily  eye. 

In  the  former  of  these  ways,  Christ  is 
already  revealed  to  us  in  his  gospel.     It 


makes  him  known.  Wlierever  it  is  preach- 
ed, he  may  be  said  to  be  spiritually- mani- 
fested. Tlie  Galatians  had  never  seen  him 
in  anv  other  manner,  and  yet  they  wire' 
told  tiiat  "Jesus  Christ  liad  been  evidently 
set  forth  before  their  eyes,  crucified  among 
them." 

And  he  has  been  revealed  also  in  our 
world  outwardly.  Men  with  their  bodily 
eyes  have  seen  him.  But  then  this  was  a 
very  partial  discovery  of  him.  Few  in  the 
world  saw  him,  and  those  few  saw  of  him 
very  little.  He  was  here  half  disguised, 
with  a  veil  thrown  over  him.  But  when 
he  comes  the  second  time,  he  will  come 
without  anv  disguise  or  veil.  He  will  ap- 
pear among  us  just  as  he  appears  at  tliis 
moment  to  the  angels  who  are  at  this  mo- 
ment gazing  on  him.  We  shall  have  a  full 
manifestation  of  him,  and  a  clear  and  open 
one.  Nothing  will  intervene  between  him 
and  us  to  obstruct  our  sight  of  him.  He 
will  sit  on  his  throne  before  us  in  uncloud- 
ed, infinite  majesty.  "  When  he  shall  ap- 
pear, we  shall  see  him  as  he  is." 

And  this  manifestation  of  him  will  be 
made  to  all  the  earth.  When  he  came  be- 
fore, ih-o  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem  and  Ju- 
daea only  saw  him  ;  but  now  all  mankind 
will  see  him.  "  Behold,  he  cometh  with 
clouds,  and  every  eye  shall  see  him."  His 
friends  shall  see  him  ;  his  enemies  shall 
see  him.  The  living  shall  see  him ;  the 
dead  shall  rise  up  out  of  their  graves,  and 
behold  him.  You  and  I,  brethren,  shall  see 
him.  We  must  all  see  him  whether  we  will 
or  not.  "  Every  eye  shall  see  him,"  yea, 
the  eyes  of  those  who  least  wish  to  see 
him — "they  also  which  pierced  him." 

Am  I  prepared  then  for  that  great  sight 
on  which  these  eyes  of  mine  will  one  day 
rest  ?  My  God  now  sees  me,  but  the  hour 
is  coming  when  I  in  my  flesh  must  see  him. 
Can  I  bear  the  sight  ?  "  Who,"  asked  a 
prophet  of  old,  "  may  abide  the  day  of  his 
coming,  and  who  shall  stand  when  he  ap- 
peareth  ?"  Lord,  show  me  thy  mercy,  that 
I  may  abide.  Grant  me  thy  salvation, 
uphold  me,  that  I  may  stand. 

Let  us  look  now  at  the  different  portions 
our  Lord  will  give  to  different  j)ersons  tohen 
he  comes.  Two  classes  of  persons  are 
mentioned  in  the  text — men  who  trouble 
others,  and  tiiose  who  are  troubled  by  tliem. 
To  each  of  these  classes  is  to  be  given  a 
different  portion. 

Look  at  the  irouhlers  and  thei<-  jportion. 


190 


REST  IN  HEAVEN  FOR  THE  TROUBLED. 


Wherever  God  has  a  people  to  serve  him, 
it  matters  not  whether  the  countr)'  be  called 
a  heathen  or  a  Christian  one,  there  are 
sure  to  be  such  men  as  these.  It  ever  has 
been  so,  and,  till  the  kingdoms  of  this  world 
become  "the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  of 
his  Christ,"  it  ever  will  be.  Sometimes 
God  visits  these  men  with  his  displeasure 
here,  just  often  enough  to  show  that  he 
marks  well  what  they  are  doing  and  is  dis- 
pleased with  them  ;  but  generally  he  seems 
to  let  them  alone.  The  hour  for  them  to 
receive  "  the  due  reward  of  their  deeds," 
is  not  yet  come.  That  reward  is  not  yet 
full.  It  will  be  measured  out  to  them  in 
fearful  abundance,  when  the  heavens  are 
opened  and  the  Son  of  Man  is  revealed. 

It  is  called  in  the  te.xt  "tribulation." 
Now  tribulation  is  affliction,  suffering.  Of 
this  we  all  know  something ;  a  hw  of  us 
think  we  know  of  it  almost  as  much  as  can 
be  known  ;  but  what  is  the  deepest  sorrow 
that  any  of  us  have  ever  felt  ?  No  more 
to  be  compared  with  this  tribulation,  than 
the  darkness  of  a  summer  cloud  with  a 
wintry  midnight.  There  is  no  measuring 
of  it.  There  is  no  conceiving  of  it.  The 
most  wretched  man  that  lives,  in  his  most 
wretched  hours,  can  hardly  form  a  notion 
of  it.  It  is  sorrow  without  any  mixture  of 
comfort  or  alleviation,  and  sorrow  of  the 
acutest  and  bitterest  kind.  It  is  "  anguish," 
says  Paul.  It  is  "weeping,"  says  Christ, 
"  weeping,  and  wailing,  and  gnashing  of 
teeth." 

And,  observe,  it  is  called  here  a  recom- 
pense  ;  "  It  is  a  righteous  thing  with  God  to 
recompense  tribulation  to  them  that  trouble 
you."  They  are  not  only  to  be  visited  with 
suffering,  but  that  suffering  is  to  come  upon 
them  as  the  consequence  of  their  unkind- 
ness  towards  God's  people.  Their  unkind- 
ness,  it  is  intimated,  will  increase  their  ever- 
lasting misery.  Wretched  they  would  have 
been,  even  if  they  had  let  this  people  alone  ; 
their  other  great  sins  would  have  made  them 
so ;  but  they  shall  be  more  wretched  be- 
cause they  v/ould  not  let  them  alone. 

How  little  do  some  of  us  think  of  this 
solemn  truth  !  We  hear  the  "  hard  speeches" 
of  the  ungodly,  and  we  think  of  them  as 
little  more  than  the  breakings  forth  of  pre- 
judice, or  ill  humor,  or  harmless  plea- 
santry ;  but  "  There  is  something,"  says 
the  Bible  concerning  every  one  of  them, 
"that  will  never  be  forgotten.  It  has  en- 
tered into  the  ears  of  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth 


There  is  a  recompense  for  it  to  the  righte- 
ous who  suffer  by  it,  a  recompense  of  bless- 
ing ;  and  there  is  a  recompense  too  for  thai 
thoughtless  man  who  utters  it,  a  recompense 
of  tribulation."  "  He  shall  hear  of  it 
again,"  says  the  Lord  Jesus,  "  when  I  am 
revealed." 

And  how  this  truth  magnifies  the  love 
that  Christ  bears  to  us  !  It  makes  us  feel 
that  we  have  yet  to  learn  what  that  love  is. 
With  a  burning  world  underneath  his  feet, 
and  a  universe  falling  into  ruin  around  him, 
he  will  come  down  from  heaven  as  our 
avenger,  grounding  his  proceedings  as  the 
great  Judge  of  all  on  the  conduct  of  men 
towards  us,  as  well  as  towards  himself. 
The  whole  universe  he  will  force  to  under- 
stand in  that  hour  what  he  meant  when  he 
said  to  his  Israel,  "  He  that  toucheth  you, 
toucheth  the  apple  of  mine  eye." 

But  look  at  the  jwriion  of  the  troubled. 

We  must  not  at  once  think  that  we  are 
in  the  number  of  these  men,  because  the 
world  ill  treats  us.  The  world  frequently 
torments  its  own  followers,  as  well  as  the 
followers  of  the  Lord.  The  apostle  is  ad- 
dressing those  and  those  only,  who  are 
troubled  for  Christ's  sake.  He  speaks  of 
them,  in  the  third  verse,  as  men  of  great 
faith  and  abounding  charity  ;  and  again  in 
the  fourth  verse,  as  enduring  all  their  per- 
secutions and  tribulations  with  a  patience 
and  faith  that  caused  him  to  glory  in  them 
among  the  churches  of  God.  Now  though 
we  are  not  to  say  that  we  have  nothing  to 
do  with  this  text,  because  we  are  men  of 
weak  faith  and  are  sometimes  impatient 
and  angry  under  injuries,  yet  it  is  very 
clear  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  it  unless 
it  is  for  our  Master's  sake,  or,  as  the  fifth 
verse  expresses  it,  "for  the  kingdom  of 
God,"  that  we  are  injured. 

The  blessing  the  apostle  promises  us,  is 
"  rest,"  and  that  a  rest  with  himself 

It  is  "  rest."  I  need  not  say,  brethren, 
here  is  the  very  thing  for  which  some  of 
us  most  long.  We  are  often  grieved  with 
ourselves  that  we  do  so  earnestly  long  for 
it.  But  mark  the  compassion  of  the  Lord 
towards  us.  He  lets  us  see  that  the  ho]y 
Paul  longed  for  this  thing  as  much  as  we  ; 
and  more — that  he  regarded  it  as  a  thing 
to  be  lawfully  desired  and  longed  for.  Here 
he  is,  trying  to  comfort  his  fellow-sufferers 
with  the  prospect  of  it.  "  I  know  your 
hearts,"  the  Lord  says  to  us  by  him.  "  I 
see  how  oppressed  you  are,  and  how  weary 


REST  IN  HEAVEN  FOR  THE  TROUBLED. 


191 


and  fainting.  You  ask  me  for  patience  and 
strength  in  your  sulTerings,  and  you  shall 
have  patience  and  strength  ;  but  I  under- 
stand well  for  what  your  hearts  are  aching. 
You  wish  tiie  battle  over,  and  fear  no  anger 
from  me  because  you  do  so.  You  may 
wish  it  over.  The  comfort  I  now  offer  you, 
is  the  assurance  that  it  will  soon  be  over. 
There  remaineth  a  rest  for  my  people,  and 
that  rest  you  shall  have — rest  from  the 
troubling  of  the  wicked,  rest  from  evil  hands 
and  evil  tongues,  rest  from  conflict  and  la- 
bor, rest  from  sin,  a  quiet  and  unbroken  and 
everlasting  rest  in  my  peaceful  home." 

O  the  tenderness  of  our  exalted  Lord! 
This  one  word  "  rest"  may  show  us  its 
greatness.  Were  we  in  heaven,  we  should 
never  call  heaven  by  this  name.  It  is  a 
■world  of  ceaseless  employment.  They, 
we  are  told,  who  dwell  in  it,  "  rest  not 
day  nor  night."  Their  powers  are  every 
moment  called  into  exercise,  and  not  that 
poor,  crippled  exercise  of  wliich  we  are 
capable;  there  is  a  wonderful  energy  in 
them.  They  are  able  to  bring  all  the 
power  they  possess  into  action,  and  to  sus- 
tain it  in  action,  and  this  without  efibrt  or 
weariness.  And  herein  lies  much  of  their 
happiness.  It  is  not  happiness  to  lie  sense- 
less like  a  clod  of  earth  or  a  stone.  We 
must  think  and  feel  to  be  happy  ;  and  they 
in  heaven  are  happier  than  we,  for  this 
among  other  reasons,  because  they  think 
and  feel  more.  But  the  Lord  .lesus  passes 
over  all  this  and  more  than  this.  His  peo- 
ple on  earth  are  troubled,  wearied,  and 
fainting  ;  and  losing  sight  of  all  the  splen- 
dors  and  joys  of  his  kingdom,  as  well  as  its 
employments,  he  places  it  before  us  in  a 
charactetwe  can  understand.  It  is  no  long- 
er joy ;  it  is  no  longer  glory,  or  honor,  or 
immortality;  it  is  not  a  temple  wherein  he 
is  every  moment  praised  ;  it  is  a  rest,  he 
says ;  he  speaks  of  it  as  a  world  of  quiet- 
ness and  repose. 

Some  of  you  perhaps  can  hardly  under- 
stand this.  You  want  to  l)e  in  heaven,  you 
say,  that  you  may  serve  God  in  heaven 
without  those  miserable  interruptions  and 
hinderances  you  experience  here.  The  idea 
of  rest  in  heaven  seems  to  you  a  pause  in 
its  happiness.  This  is  well,  brethren  ;  you 
are  feeling  as  Christian  men  ought  always 
to  feel ;  but  this  will  not  last  forever.  There 
may  come  a  time  when  you  will  long  for 
rest  as  intensely  as  ever  wearied  travpllr>r 
longed  fi)r  his  home.     No  words  in  your 


Bible  may  be  more  of;e  i  in  your  minds  than 
these,  "There  remair  eth  a  rest ;"  no  de- 
claration in  the  Bible  may  correspond  more 
with  your  feelings  than  this,  "Blessed  are 
the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord,  fur  they 
rest  from  their  labors." 

This  rest,  the  apostle  says  further,  is  rest 
with  him  and  others  like  him — "  rest  with 
us."  Perhaps  he  had  in  liis  mind  Silvanns 
and  Timotheus,  whom  he  had  jusf  men- 
tioned, and  in  whose  name,  as  well  as  his 
own,  he  was  writing.  But  be  this  as  it 
may,  it  is  clear  from  his  words,  that  when 
the  Lord  gives  us  rest,  it  will  be  a  rest  of 
the  same  kind  that  he  gives  to  his  highest 
saints,  his  apostles  and  martyrs,  and  a  rest 
which  we  shall  enjoy  with  them.  He  has 
not  two  heavens  for  his  redeemed,  nor  has 
he  placed  any  division  or  barrier  to  separate 
them  in  the  one  heaven  he  has  prepared. 
Where  Paul  is,  there  shall  we  be,  and  par- 
take of  the  same  blessedness.  We  shall 
be  with  "the  general  assembly  and  church 
of  the  first-born"  in  heaven.  We  shall 
"  sit  down  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
in  the  kingdom  of  God." 

"  I  heed  not  this,"  some  one  may  say. 
"  All  I  want  is,  to  be  with  my  Lord  ;  and 
once  with  him,  I  ask  no  more."  But  the 
man  who  really  loves  Christ,  loves  also  the 
people  of  Christ.  He  must  do  so.  "  Every 
one  that  loveth  him  that  begat,  loveth  him 
also  that  is  begotten  of  him."  And  those 
whom  we  much  love,  we  wish  to  be  with. 
It  will  follow  then,  that  though  the  presence 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  and  the  enjoyment  of  him 
will  constitute  the  chief  blessedness  of  heav- 
en,  this  blessedness  will  be  sweetened  and 
increased  by  our  sharing  it  with  others. 
We  shall  be  happ'cr  men  as  we  look  around 
us  and  perceive  that  we  are  in  a  happy 
world.  Even  now* it  is  pleasant  to  see  and 
know  those  Avho  love  our  Lord  ;  the  soul 
goes  out  to  them,  and  clings  to  them  with 
feelings  of  no  common  delight ;  but  how 
much  more  pleasant  will  it  be  to  see  and 
know  them  where  all  is  love,  and  delight, 
and  joy  ?  Paul  evidently  could  enter  into 
this  feeling.  Ho  would  never  have  said 
here  "  rest  with  us,"  if  he  could  not.  It 
rejoiced  him  to  think  that  his  poor,  troubled 
converts  at  Thessalonica  would  be  with 
him  in  glory  ;  and  he  speaks  as  though  he 
thougiit  that  the  prospect  of  being  witli  him 
there  would  rejoice  them.  "  Heed  not,"  he 
seems  to  say,  "your  tribulations,  and  I  will 
try  not  to  heed  mine      We  must  now  hear 


192 


REST  L\  IIEAVEX  i'OR  THE  TROUBLED. 


them  apart ;  but  there  is  a  rest  reniaininji 
for  you  and  me,  thfi  same  rest,  ant]  we  shall 
enjoy  it  together.  We  have  the  same  God, 
the  same  Saviour;  he  gives  us  now  the 
same  sufferings  ;  but  yet  a  little  while,  we 
shall  rejoice  together  before  him  in  the  same 
heaven.  We  shall  stand  side  by  side  be- 
fore the  throne."  That  man,  brethren,  has 
not  a  Christian  heart  who  cannot  under- 
stand this.  I  might  almost  say,  he  has  no 
heart  at  all.  The  very  heathen  when  they 
thought  of  happiness  in  another  life,  thought 
at  the  same  time  of  the  good  and  the  great 
with  whom  they  hoped  to  enjoy  it.  One 
of  the  most  beautiful  passages  their  elo- 
quent pens  ever  wrote,  is  that  wherein  one 
of  them  breathes  forth  the  longings  of 
his  soul  to  be  with  the  sages  and  philoso- 
phers who  were  gone  before  him.  And 
shall  we  deem  it  nothing  to  be  with  those 
saints  of  the  living  God,  who  are  gone  be- 
fore us  into  his  presence — the  righteous 
Abel,  the  honored  Abraham,  the  faithful 
Moses,  the  once  heart-broken  but  now  ex- 
ulting David,  the  heroic  Daniel,  the  gen- 
tle and  seraphic  John,  the  glowing  Peter, 
the  noble  Paul,  Stephen  with  his  martyr's 
crown,  and  the  martyrs  and  fathers  of  the 
churches  with  their  crowns  of  life,  and  our 
own  fathers  and  brethren  and  friends,  who 
have  washed  their  robes  and  made  them 
white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb;  and  to  be 
with  all  these,  not  as  mere  spectators  of 
their  glory,  but  as  the  sharers  of  it ;  to  be 
welcomed  by  them,  to  mix  with  them,  to 
feel  ourselves  valued  and  loved  among 
them,  to  be  one  of  them  ?  O  brethren, 
there  is  more  blessedness  awaiting  us  in 
heaven  than  we  have  ever  yet  conceived 
of.  Besides  the  one  great  fountain,  "  that 
river  of  life  proceeding  out  of  the  thrbne 
of  God  and  of  the  Lamb,"  there  will  flow 
into  our  soul  stream  after  stream,  of  which 
many  of  us  have  not  now  a  thought. 

Such  are  the  different  portions  the  Lord 
Jesus  will  give  to  different  men  at  his  com- 
ing— tribulation  to  the  troublers  of  his  peo- 
ple, rest,  and  rest  with  his  saints,  to  those 
troubled  people  themselves. 

IlL  We  have  now  to  notice  his  righteous- 
ness in  so  doing  ;  "  It  is  a  righteous  thing 
with  God  to  recompense  tribulation  to  them 
that  trouble  you,  and  to  you  who  are 
troubled,  rest." 

When  Christ  came  down  to  our  world  the 
first  time,  he  came  as  a  Saviour,  lie  ac- 
cordingly displayed  in  his  coming  chiefly 


the  love  and  mercy  of  Jehovah.  But  when 
he  is  seen  coming  again  from  heaven,  he 
will  come  as  a  Judge ;  and  what  Ave  look 
for  in  a  Judge,  is  not  love,  but  equity  and 
righteousness.  Mercy  he  may  have  and 
ought  to  have,  but  he  does  not  come  on  an 
errand  of  mercy  ;  his  main  business  is  to 
dispense  justice.  Hence  the  day  of  our 
Lord's  coming  is  called  the  great  day  of 
"judgment."  "God,"  it  is  said,  "will 
judge  the  world  in  righteousness  by  that 
^lan  whom  he  hath  ordained."  The  day 
when  he  will  be  revealed,  is  said  again  to 
be  "the  day  of  the  revelation  of  the  righte- 
ous judgment  of  God."  The  Son  of  God 
and  the  justice  of  God  will  be  revealed  to- 
gether. His  justice  is  now  very  much  a 
matter  of  faith.  It  is,  like  our  Lord  'him- 
self, out  of  our  sight.  Some  indications  there 
are  of  it  in  the  world,  but  there  is  not  a 
consistent  and  open  display  of  it  in  the 
world.  The  godly  suffer  and  the  ungodly 
prosper.  But  when  "  the  trumpet  shall 
sound  and  the  dead  shall  be  raised,"  there 
will  be  an  end  forever  to  all  this  seeming 
confusion.  "  Then,"  says  the  prophet, 
"  shall  ye  discern  between  the  righteous 
and  the  wicked."  "  The  mystery  of  God" 
shall  be  finished.  He  will  reveal  his  jus- 
tice and  equity  so  clearly,  yea,  so  brightly, 
that  not  a  creature  in  the  universe  shall 
suspect  him  of  doing  wrong.  Heaven, 
earth,  and  hell,  angels,  devils,  and  men, 
shall  all  see  together  that  he  is  righteous. 
Every  cavilling  tongue  shall  be  stopped  ; 
every  murmur  shall  be  silenced  ;  every 
feeling  of  wonder  shall  be  gone.  An  angel 
shall  iay,  and  no  one  shall  dispute  his 
words,  "  Thou  art  righteous,  O  Lord,  which 
art,  and  wast,  and  shalt  be,  because  thou 
hast  judged  thus." 

Now  to  bring  this  about,  there  must  be 
justice,  and  evident  justice,  in  the  different 
portions  the  Lordwill  allot  toditlerent  men. 
Their  destinies  must  be  suited  to  their 
character  and  conduct,  and  plainly  so ;  it 
must  be  seen  that  every  man  has  received 
just  what  he  ought. 

Turn  now  to  the  text.  See  standing 
there  before  the  great  Judge  of  all,  two 
separate  companies  of  men.  Here,  on  the 
one  side,  arc  those  who  bore  for  years,  and 
willingly  bore,  hatred  and  reproach  for  his 
name's  sake  ;  and  there,  on  the  other  side, 
are  those  who  reproached  and  hated  them 
because  they  loved  his  name.  Without 
looking   any    further,  we  see  at  once  the 


REST  IN  HEAVEN  FOR  THE  TROUBLED. 


193 


force  of  the  apostle's  words.  That  righte- 
ous Judge  must  recompense  tribulation  to 
those  injurious  men.  Thoy  have  troubled 
his  peoplo,  and  it  is  but  their  desert  that 
thfv  should  be  troubled  now  in  their  turn. 
They  dealt  in  evil ;  evil  therefore  shall  be 
rendered  unto  them. 

And  shall  not  that  harassed  people  on  the 
other  side,  at  last  find  rest  ?  True,  they 
merit  it  not  ;  for  notwithstanding  all  they 
have  borne  for  Christ,  what  are  they?  A 
company  of  miserable  sinners,  snatched  by 
amazing  mercy  as  brands  from  the  burning, 
and  deserving  to  be  cast  into  that  burning 
again.  Remembering  what  thoy  are,  we 
should  have  expected  the  apostle  to  say, 
"  It  is  a  merciful  thing  n;ith  God  to  give 
them  rest ;  it  is  a  wonderfully  gracious 
thing :"  and  in  other  places  he  does  say 
this ;  he  often  says  it  ;  it  is  the  one  great 
theme  on  wliich  his  tliankful  tongue  delight- 
ed to  dwell.  But  here  for  once  he  enters 
into  his  blessed  Master's  feelings ;  he  speaks 
his  Master's  language.  He,  on  the  throne 
of  his  glory,  says  nothing  of  his  people's 
sins  ;  he  seems  to  think  only  of  his  people's 
services  :  and  Paul  here,  looking  on  that 
assembly  of  once  persecuted  saints,  loses 
sight  of  every  thing  but  their  sufferings,  and 
the  patience  with  which  they  bore  them, 
and  says,  "  It  is  a  righteous  thing  with  God 
to  give  them  rest."  Nay,  humble  as  he 
was,  he  applies  language  of  this  kind  to 
himself  "I  have  fought  a  good  fight,"  he 
says,  "  I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have 
kept  the  faith.  Henceforth  there  is  laid  up 
for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness,  which  the 
Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  shall  give  me  at 
that  day." 

But  we  may  take  another  view  of  his 
words. 

We  have  naturally  as  sinners  no  claim 
on  God's  justice.  We  cannot  have.  If  he 
bestows  on  us  any  blessing,  that  blessing 
must  come  to  us  from  his  own  free  bounty 
and  overflowing  goodness.  But  though  we 
deserve  nothing  good  of  him,  he  has  gra- 
ciously pledged  himself  in  Christ  Jesus  to 
give  us  much — the  pardon  of  our  sins  in 
this  life  and  a  victory  over  them  ;  comfort 
under  our  troubles  and  strength  to  bear 
them  ;  and  this  life  ended,  there  is  an  eter- 
nity of  rest  awaiting  us,  he  says,  in  his  own 
heavenly  kingdom.  The  Bible  is  full  of 
such  promises  as  tliese,  and  thoy  will  serve 
to  explain  the  language  employed  in  this 
text. 


What  the  grace  of  God  leads  him  to 
promise,  the  justice  of  God  will  lead  him 
to  perform.  The  gift  may  be  undeserved, 
but  if  he  says  to  the  sinners  who  are  look- 
ing to  him  for  it,  "  You  shall  have  it,"  his 
righteousness  will  constrain  him  to  bestow 
it.  Grace,  under  such  circumstances,  is 
grace  still,  but  it  has  been  a  long  promised 
and  long  looked  for  grace,  and  now  when 
at  last  it  comes,  it  comes  with  the  stamp  of 
equity  and  justice  on  it.  The  u.nworthiness 
of  the  sinners  who  receive  it,  has  nothing  to 
do  in  the  matter.  They  were  as  unworthy 
when  the  promise  was  given.  The  justice 
of  the  transaction  rests  elsewhere.  It  is  a 
righteous  thing  with  God  to  give  rest  to  his 
troubled  people,  for  he  has  bound  himself 
by  his  sacred  word,  by  his  covenant  and 
oath,  to  give  it  them. 

Wliat  a  blessed  truth  then  is  here  !  Once 
pardoned  and  accepted  in  Christ  Jesus,  that 
very  attribute  of  Jehovah,  of  which  we 
were  the  most  afraid,  is  on  our  side.  It 
ensures  our  salvation.  Our  salvation  will 
manifest  it.  There  is  a  day  coming  when 
justice  and  mercy  shall  triumph  openly 
together.  The  Lord  "  shall  come  to  be 
glorified  in  his  saints,"  not  only  for  the  dis- 
play he  has  made  in  them  of  the  riches  of 
his  grace,  but  for  the  monuments  he  has 
made  them  of  his  righteousness  and  truth. 

Are  any  of  you  then  the  troubled  servants 
of  Christ  ?  Am  I  speaking  to  any  who, 
like  these  Thessalonians,  are  experiencing 
hard  usage  in  the  world  for  the  kingdom  of 
God's  sake  ?  Let  me  call  on  you  to  bear 
this  usage  as  these  men  bore  it,  with  "  pa- 
tience and  faith." 

With  "  patience."  Sooner  or  later, 
brethren,  you  will  need  this.  Sometimes 
we  can  almost  smile  at  the  world's  petty 
hatred.  It  is  as  easy  to  bear  as  the  lightest 
feather.  But  not  so  always.  The  mind 
after  a  time  becomes  fretted  and  wearied 
with  that  which  at  first  it  despised,  and  the 
feather  is  now  a  burden.  Then  comes 
Satan  and  says,  "Bear  this  no  longer." 
Then  speaks  out  our  own  impatient  heart, 
and  says,  "  Why  should  I  bear  it  ?"  But 
then  also  is  the  time  to  turn  to  such  a  text 
as  this,  and  learn  that  this  tribulation  and 
persecution  must  be  endured.  To  attempt 
to  get  away  from  it  is  useless.  It  is  a  part 
of  our  promised  portion.  The  same  cove- 
nant that  secures  heaven  to  us  at  the  end, 
secures  to  us  this  tribulation  in  the  way  to 
it.     If  we  trust  to  Jehovah's  righteousness 


194 


TRUE  RELIGION  EXEMPLIFIED  IN  MARY. 


for  the  one,  we  must  expect  to  receive  from 
his  faithfulness  the  other. 

And  these  trials  must  be  borne  with 
"  faith."  They  cannot  be  borne  without 
it.  You  have  the  sure  promise  of  God,  if 
you  are  his,  that  he  will  comfort  you  under 
them,  sanctify  you  by  them,  carry  you 
throufih  them,  and  in  the  end  recompense 
you  for  them.  All  you  want  is  a  steadfast 
belief  in  these  promises,  and  a  looking  for- 
ward to  their  full  accomplishment.  The 
revelation  of  Jesus  Christ  from  heaven,  the 
wonderful  recompense  that  will  then  be 
yours,  the  mercy,  and  truth,  and  never 
failing  righteousness,  which  secure  this 
recompense  to  you — there  lies  your  real 
comfort,  brethren.  Look  for  it  there.  Do 
not  seek  consolation  under  ill-treatment  from 
one  part  of  the  world,  by  seeking  kinder 
treatment  from  some  other  part  of  it.  Live 
above  this  poor  world  altogether.  Poor  in- 
deed it  is.  Pity  it,  bear  with  it,  pray  for  it, 
help  it  if  you  can — your  Master  died  for  it 
— but  sit  loose  to  it,  hold  it  cheap.  Do  as 
these  Thessalonians  did — "  turn  to  God 
from  idols  to  serve  the  living  and  true  God, 
and  to  wait  for  his  Son  from  heaven,  even 
Jesus,  which  delivered  us  from  the  wrath 
to  come." 


SERMON  XLL 

THE    SEVENTH    SUNDAY  AFTER    TRINITY. 

TRUE  RELIGION  EXEMPLIFIED  IN  MARY. 

St.  Luke  x.  41,  42. — "Jesus  answered  and  said 
unto  her,  Martha,  Martha,  thou  art  careful  and 
troiihlfd  about  innny  things,  hut  one  thing  is 
needful;  and  Mary  hath  chosen  that  good  part 
which  shall  not  be  taken  away  from  her." 

Theiie  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  what  our 
Lord  means  by  the  "  one  thing"  and  the 
"  good  part"  he  here  commends.  They 
are  both  of  them  true  religion.  And  the 
use  I  now  purpose  to  make  of  this  scripture 
is,  to  hold  it  up  to  you  as  a  standard  of  true 
religion.  It  does  more,  observe,  than  praise 
this  blessed  thing  ;  it  partially  describes  it. 
It  tells  us  v»liat  it  is,  and  thus  enables  us  to 
judge  whether  there  is  any  of  it  to  be  found 
in  our  own  hearts.  And  it  goes  further  ; 
it  distinguishes  between  a  liigi)  degree  of 
this  religion  and  a  low  degree  of  it.     It  not 


only  settles  the  question,  whether  we  are 
real  Christians  ;  it  lets  us  know  where- 
abouts every  real  believer  among  us  is 
standing  in  Christ's  school.  Is  the  coin 
genuine  or  a  counterfeit?  That  is  one 
point  it  determines,  and  then,  supposing  it 
to  be  genuine,  this  is  the  other — what  is  the 
quality  of  the  gold  the  coin  contains  ?  has 
it  much  dross  in  it  or  little  ?  God  grant 
that  every  one  of  us  may  be  willing  to  bring 
his  religion  to  this  test ! 

I.  We  will  begin  with  the  latter  of  these 
two  questions,  and  look  at  this  scripture  as 
distinguishing  between  Christian  and  Chris- 
iian. 

Both  these  sisters  were  undoubtedly  sin- 
cere followers  of  our  Lord ;  they  were 
both  converted,  holy  women.  It  is  ex- 
pressly said  in  another  place  that  Jesus 
loved  both,  and  we  find  both  of  them  acting 
on  several  occasions  as  though  they  really 
believed  in  and  loved  him.  But  yet  we 
see  here  a  great  difference  between  them, 
and  such  a  difference  as  natural  disposition 
will  not  of  itself  account  for.  The  main 
source  of  it  lay  elsewhere — one  was  high 
in  spiritual  attainments,  the  other  was  a 
learner  in  the  same  school,  but  as  yet  had 
learned  much  less  in  it.  And  mark  the 
kindness  of  God  in  setting  before  us  in  his 
word  such  different  characters.  Every 
one  of  his  people,  from  the  highest  in  his 
church  to  the  lowest,  may  find  here  a  coun- 
terpart to  himself,  and  thus  meet  warnings 
and  encouragements  suited  exactly  to  his 
own  case. 

We  may  discover  in  Mary  two  marks  of 
a  highly  spiritual  mind. 

Notice,  first,  her  composure  ;  her  compo- 
sure, I  mean,  as  to  worldly  things. 

It  seems  from  the  thirty-eighth  verse, 
that  the  Saviour  came  to  Bethany  at  this 
time  an  unexpected  guest.  Martha  is  con- 
sequently thrown  off  her  guard.  In  her 
anxiety  to  provide  a  suitable  entertainment 
for  him,  she  loses  first  her  serenity  and 
then  her  temper.  She  "  was  cumbered," 
we  are  told,  that  is,  hurried  and  distressed, 
"  about  much  serving."  While  in  this 
frame  of  mind,  seeing  Mary  unemployed, 
she  feels  angry,  rudely  breaks  in  on  our 
Lord's  discourse  with  her,  and  even  re- 
bukes  him  for  detaining  her  ;  "  Lord,  dost 
thou  not  care  that  my  sister  hath  left  me 
to  serve  alone  ?" 

But  look  now  at  Mary.  One  short  sen^ 
tence  is  all  the  evangelist  has  for  her,  ^at 


TRUE  KK.M(;i(>N  c.:i:.M I'l.i nr.D  i.\  mary. 


195 


we  scarcely  want  more.  It  places  her  be- 
fore us  all  tranquillity.  She  "sat,"  he 
says,  "  at  Jesus'  feet,"  happy  indeed  to  be 
near  those  blessed  feet,  and  as  long  as  she 
is  there,  without  an  anxiety  or  a  care. 
But  how  was  this  1  Did  she  love  the  Lord 
Jesus  less  than  Martha  ?  Not  so  ;  she 
loved  him  more.  We  must  account  for 
her  quietness  in  another  way — she  was 
less  earthly-minded  than  Martha.  One 
thing  had  laid  a  firmer  hold  of  her  mind, 
and  that  one  thing  had  weakened  the  power 
of  all  other  things  over  it.  Her  loftier 
piety  made  the  ditlerence. 

I  do  not  mean  tliat  every  quiet  person  is 
more  holy  than  his  less  placid  neighbor. 
There  is  a  constitutional  quietness,  and 
there  is  a  quietness  also  that  proceeds  from 
a  want  of  feeling.  What  I  mean  is,  that 
true  piety  is  in  its  nature  a  tranquillizing 
thing,  and  will  ever  act  agreeably  to  its 
nature — it  will  make  every  man  tranquil 
as  to  worldly  things  in  proportion  as  he 
comes  under  its  influence.  For  what  is  it  ? 
It  is  a  dethroning  of  the  things  of  time  and 
sense  in  the  heart ;  it  is  a  stripping  them 
of  their  assumed  importance  ;  il  is  a  pla- 
cing of  something  else  far  above  them  ;  it 
is  a  transfer  of  the  soul's  best  affections 
from  the  world  to  God.  Now  this  cannot 
be  wrought  in  a  man,  and  yet  leave  him 
as  much  as  ever  at  the  world's  mercy. 
He  must,  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  care 
less  about  it,  and  be  less  affected  by  it. 
The  state  of  his  mind  towards  it  will  be- 
come a  test  and  measure  of  his  piety. 
Our  own  experience  tells  us  this.  It  is 
amazing  how  easily  we  can  let  the  world 
take  its  course,  when  for  a  time  we  arc  , 
walking  closely  with  God  ;  it  is  amazing 
too  how  easily  the  world  can  cumber  and 
disquiet  us,  when  God  is  forgotten.  Away 
from  Christ,  we  lose  our  composure  and 
temper  at  every  trifle  ;  in  Mary'§  place,  at 
our  Master's  feet,  our  heart  is  fixed  ;  noth- 
ing moves  us ;  we  wonder  that  any  one 
earthly  thing  should  have  ever  cost  us  a 
care. 

Observe  in  TMary  another  thing — an  ear- 
nest desire  of  spiritual  instruction.  "  She 
sat,"  we  read,  "  at  Jesus'  feet."  But  love 
for  him,  wc  say,  might  have  placed  her 
there.  She  wished  perhaps  to  be  near  her 
holy  guest  and  enjoy  his  society.  "  No," 
says  tiie  evangelist ;  "  she  sat  at  his  feet, 
and  heard  his  word."  She  placed  herself 
near  him,  he  seems  to  intimate,  that  she 


t  hear  his  word.  Warm-hearted  as 
she  was,  she  forgets  or  half  forgets  the 
friend  in  the  teacher.  There  she  sits, 
thirsting  for  spiritual  knowledge,  and  drink- 
ing in  the  heavenly  doctrine  falling  from 
his  lips,  as  though  it  were  health  and  joy 
to  her.  Martha,  on  the  contrary,  had  no 
such  feelings.  She  appears  to  have  turned 
aside  altogether  from  our  Lord's  instruc- 
tions at  this  time,  and  to  have  done  so 
almost  without  regret.  She  let  the  stream 
of  heavenly  wisdom  flow  by  her  untasted 
and  unheeded. 

And  indifference  like  hers  is  by  no  means 
uncommon  now.  There  are  some  really 
Christian  persons,  who  manifest  a  frame  of 
mind  exactly  similar  to  it.  They  know 
very  little  of  divine  things,  and  seem  almost 
indifTerent  whether  or  not  they  ever  know 
more.  They  hear  sermons,  and  read  their 
Bibles,  and  talk  with  their  godly  friends  ; 
but  they  are  never  anxious,  as  far  as  we 
can  see,  to  gain  much  instruction  fitm 
them.  If  they  gain  any,  it  enters  theii 
minds  unsought.  We  dare  not  say  of  these 
men,  that  they  have  no  true  religion.  We 
should  say  so,  if  we  looked  at  this  feature 
of  their  character  alone ;  but  their  blame- 
less lives,  their  good  conversation,  their 
fear  of  sin,  their  readiness  for  every  good 
word  and  work,  prove  the  reverse.  The 
wonder  is  how  they  can  know  what  they 
really  do  know  of  a  glorious  Saviour,  and 
not  wish  to  know  more ;  how  they  can 
know  so  little  of  him,  and  yet  be  so  con- 
tent. We  can  solve  the  difficulty  in  only 
one  way — they  too  are  careful  and  troubled 
about  many  things  ;  they  too  are  cumbered 
about  much  serving.  The  world  is  not  on 
the  throne  of  their  hearts,  but  nevertheless 
the  world  is  in  their  hearts,  and  a  great 
deal  of  the  world.  It  crowds  their  hearts. 
It  chokes  them  up.  There  is  not  room  in 
them  for  much  spiritual  knowledge.  And 
this  clearly  proves  their  religious  charac- 
ter to  be  low.  It  must  do  so.  The  great 
trutlis  of  the  gospel  are  so  glorious,  that  a 
heaven-born  mind,  if  at  liberty,  must  be 
delighted  with  them.  It  cannot  learn  a 
little  of  them  without  thirsting  to  learn 
more.  There  is  no  satisfying  such  a  mind. 
In  some  earthly  sciences,  the  mind  docs  be- 
come satisfied.  It  makes  the  thing  out,  it 
sees  that  it  has  learned  all  that  can  be  learn- 
ed of  the  matter ;  therefore  it  reposes.  Or  it 
grows  weary  with  its  researches.  It  dis- 
covers that  it  is  aiminc:  at  that  which  is  not 


196 


TRUE  RELIGIOX  EXEMPLIFIED  IN  MARY. 


worth  the  labor  of  acquiring,  and  conse- 
quently it  ceases  from  its  toil  before  it  has 
acquired  it.  But  not  so  in  divine  things. 
Ages  and  ages  of  study  would  not  carry  us 
to  the  bottonn  of  them  ;  eternity  will  leave 
in  them  depths  of  wisdom  and  love  unex- 
plored. Abraham  and  Paul  in  heaven  are 
yet  learners  ;  they  are  still  mere  babes  in 
knowledge  ;  and  so  is  the  highest  archan- 
gel, that  has  been  the  longest  there.  And 
as  for  growing  weary  of  studying  these 
things,  we  never  can  do  so,  unless  other 
things  draw  us  off.  The  more  we  learn 
of  them,  the  more  we  shall  wish  to  learn. 
Look  at  the  angels.  We  just  glance  at  the 
gospel  ;  they,  we  are  told,  "  desire  to  look 
into  it;"  they  bend  down,  as  the  original 
word  imports,  to  examine  it.  It  is  the 
same  word  that  describes  the  anxious  look- 
ing of  John  and  Mary,  on  the  morning  of 
the  resurrection,  into  their  Master's  tomb. 
They  regard  it  with  the  deepest  interest, 
and  the  most  intense  attention.  And  look 
at  Paul.  Who  on  earth  ever  knew  more 
of  Christ  than  he  ?  And  yet  what  does  he 
say  ?  He  speaks  as  though  he  knew  noth- 
ing ;  he  is  willing  to  give  up  the  whole 
world  that  he  may  know  more.  "  Yea 
doubtless  I  count  all  things  but  loss  for  the 
excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Je- 
sus my  Lord."  And  he  does  not  end  here. 
"  I  have  suffered,"  he  adds,  "  the  loss  of  all 
things,"  and  with  regret  ?  "  No,"  he  says 
again,  "  I  do  not  care  a  whit  for  the  loss  of 
them.  I  do  count  them  but  dung  that  I 
may  win  Christ  and  be  found  in  him,  and" 
— one  thing  more — "  tliat  I  may  know 
hii.i." 

I  am  not  pleading,  brethren,  for  a  merely 
barren  knowledge  of  the  gospel.  No  right 
knowledge  of  it  can  be  barren.  Nor  am  ] 
urging  you  to  neglect  your  daily  occupa- 
tions, and  run  up  and  down  to  hear  ser- 
mons, or  shut  yourselves  up  and  read  books. 
x\ll  that  I  am  contending  for  is,  that  a  de- 
sire of  spiritual  knowledge  is  a  test  of 
character  ;  that  those  among  us,  who  de- 
sire it  the  most,  are  the  holiest.  And  all 
that  I  would  urge  on  you  is,  that  you  would 
not  throw  away  on  the  world  all  the  un- 
derstanding God  has  given  you.  It  is 
mournful  that  a  dying  sinner  should  be  a 
thoughtful,  inquiring  man  among  his  goods 
and  merchandise,  his  sheep  and  cattle, 
shrewd  and  penetrating,  taking  nothing  on 
trust,  and  sifting  to  the  bottom  every  thing 
that  concerns  him  ;  and  yet  the  same  man 


put  his  mind  to  sleep  as  he  opens  his  Bible 
or  enters  a  church.  Worldliness  of  heart 
only  can  account  for  this.  "  Much  serv- 
ing" leads  us  away  from  our  great  Teacher. 
Our  low  degree  of  knowledge  is  the  result 
of  a  low  degree  of  piety.  We  are  not 
growing  in  grace,  therefore  we  are  not 
growing,  nor  desiring  to  grow,  "  in  the 
knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ."  The  apostle,  you  observe,  cou- 
ples these  two  things  together,  knowledge 
and  grace,  and  never  can  they  be  put 
asunder.  They  are  as  closely  connected 
as  the  day  and  the  light. 

We  may  now  leave  this  part  of  our 
subject.  Let  me  however  iirst  add  one 
remark.  If  any  of  you  should  think  I 
have  laid  too  much  stress  on  the  two  things 
I  have  noticed  in  Mary,  and  made  too 
much  of  them,  mark  this — they  are  the  ex- 
act points  in  which  at  this  moment  she 
most  visibly  resembled  our  Lord.  He  was 
quiet  in  a  house  of  bustle  ;  so  was  Mary. 
He  made  much  of  heavenly  wisdom,  for 
he  began  to  teach  it  as  soon  as  he  entered 
that  house  ;  she  made  much  of  it  also,  for 
she  sat  down  at  his  feet  to  learn  it.  You 
Icnow  what  follows — the  more  we  resemble 
Christ,  the  holier  we  are  ;  the  more  like 
him,  the  nearer  we  are  to  him. 

II.  We  are  now  to  view  this  scripture 
as  distinguishing  hehveen  the  real  Christian 
and  all  other  men. 

1.  It  tells  us  that,  with  the  real  Chris- 
tian, religion  is  a  needful  thing  ;  it  is  known 
and  felt  to  be  such.  "  One  thing  is  need- 
ful," says  Christ,  and  he  so  says  it,  observe, 
as  to  imply  that  Mary  regarded  it  in  this 
light ;  that  it  was  her  estimate  of  it,  as  well 
as  his  own. 

When  we  say  in  common  discourse,  that 
one  thing  is  necessary  for  any  purpose, 
we  do  not  mean  that  nothing  else  is  at  all 
necessary.  All  we  mean  is,  that  what  we 
are  speaking  of  is  pre-eminently  necessary, 
or  necessary  above  all  other  things.  And 
so  we  may  understand  our  Lord  in  this 
passage.  He  means  by  it  that  true  reli- 
gion is  so  needful,  that  in  comparison  with 
it,  nothing  else  deserves  to  be  called  need- 
ful or  thought  so.  It  is  of  paramount  im- 
portance.    It  is  our  one  great  want. 

We  may  need  other  things,  but  our  need 
of  them  is  in  some  way  limited. 

Some  of  them  are  necessary  for  our  com- 
fort only  ;  we  cannot  do  well  without  them. 
Such  are  light,  and  raiment,  and  a  home. 


TRUE  RELIGION  EXEMI'LIFIED  IN  MARY. 


197 


But  we  cannot  do  at  all  without  this.  Our 
safety  depends  on  it.  Notliing  can  supply  its 
place.  It  is  as  needful  for  us  as  food  or  air. 
Some  things  too  are  only  occasionally 
needful,  needful  for  certain  purposes  and 
for  a  certain  lime  ;  such  as  medicine  in 
sickness,  or  a  staff  in  weakness.  The 
grace  of  God  is  always  and  universally 
needful.  It  is  needful  in  all  things  at  all 
times.  What  we  call  the  necessaries  of 
life  we  cannot  want  long,  for  life  will  not 
last  long,  we  shall  soon  be  in  a  world 
where  there  is  no  place  for  them  ;  but  those 
things  in  which  true  religion  consists,  we 
shall  always  want,  to-day  and  to-morrow, 
in  sickness  and  in  health,  in  joy  and  in 
sorrow,  in  time  and  in  eternity.  They 
are  needful  now  amid  the  changes  of  life, 
they  will  be  needful  to  us  soon  in  the  sink- 
ings and  agonies  of  death,  needful  in  the 
world  of  spirits,  needful  at  the  bar  of  God, 
needful  millions  of  ages  hence,  and  so 
needful,  that  we  are  undone  if  we  do  not 
possess  them.  Well  then  may  our  Lord 
call  this  needful  thing  the  one  thing  need 


out  that  you  cannot  do  so  ?  Do  you  feel 
that  you  must  make  it  an  every  day  con- 
cern ?  yea,  an  hourly  concern  ?  that  you 
must  take  it  with  you  into  your  business, 
or  you  will  go  wrong  there  ?  into  your 
pleasures,  or  you  will  turn  them  into  sins? 
into  your  families,  or  mischief  will  spring 
up  in  them  ?  into  company,  or  you  will 
come  out  of  it  shamed  and  grieved  ?  into 
solitude,  into  your  chamber  and  to  your 
bed,  or  you  will  sin  even  there  and  suffer? 
If  so,  if  your  religion  is  felt  to  be  thus 
needful  for  you,  then  your  judgment  on 
this  point  agrees  with  Christ's,  and  the  pro- 
bability is  that  you  are  Christ's  and  that 
your  religion  is  of  God.  But  if  not,  if 
among  the  many  things  you  are  careful 
and  troubled  about,  this  occupies  no  place  ; 
if  it  seems  to  you  the  one  thing  superfluous 
or  needless,  rather  than  the  one  thing 
needful ;  then  your  view  of  this  matter 
differs  totally  from  our  Lord's  ;  and  you 
know  the  conclusion — I  would  not  state  it 
harshly,  but  I  cannot  state  it  too  plainly — 
you  are   none   of  his  ;  you   are  no  more 


ful.      Well   may  he   lose  sight  of  every   Christians  than  you   are  angels.  ^  If  an) 
other  necessary  thing  in  contemplating  this. 

And  the  real  Christian  is  aware  of  all 
this.  There  is  a  correspondence  between 
his  judgment  and  feelings,  and  this  fact. 
He  sees  and  he  feels  godliness  to  be  need- 
ful for  him,  and  pressingly  needful.  He 
desires  it,  he  seeks  it  like  one  who  knows 
that  he  cannot  do  without  it  ;  and  when 
he  has  found  it,  he  holds  it  fast,  like  one 
who  knows  that  there  is  nothing  else  be- 
tween him  and  destruction,  just  as  a  ship- 
wrecked mariner  clings  to  his  plank. 
"  One  thing  is  needful,"  says  Christ.  "  One 
thing  I  desire,"  answers  the  believer  ;  "  one 
thing  I  do." 

Now,  brethren,  is  yours  a  rfligion  of  this 
kind  ?  I  do  not  ask  now  whclhcr  you  have 
much  of  it  or  little.     I  do   not   ask  even 


man  be  in  Christ  Jesus,  he  has  the  spirit 
and  the  mind  of  Christ  Jesus  ;  he  views 
things  as  Christ  views  them  ;  he  thinks  and 
feels  with  him.  If  we  think  and  feel  alto- 
gether differently,  it  is  as  plain  as  any  fact 
can  be  plain,  that  there  is  no  communion 
between  us  and  him. 

2.  But  further — our  Lord  tells  us  here 
that  true  religion  is  something  that  is  chosen  ; 
it  is  a  matter  of  deliberate  and  serious 
choice.  "  Mary,"  he  says,  "  hath  chosen 
that  good  part  which  shall  not  be  taken 
away  from  her."  It  has  not  been  forced 
on  her  ;  it  has  not  come  to  her  by  chance  ; 
she  has  taken  it  up.  Of  the  many  things 
within  her  re-ach,  she  has  made  choice  of 
this  one  thing,  the  one  thing  needful. 

Many  owe  their  religion  solely  to  what 


what  it  is.  The  question  is,  be  it  what  it !  we  may  call  accident.  They  adopt  the 
may,  has  it  this  feature  of  sound  piety — [creed  of  their  ancestors  or  neighbors  with- 
do  you  feel  it  to  be  absolutely  necessary ,  out  examination  or  thought.  And  conse- 
for'you  ?  Do  you  find  that  you  need  it  atl  qtiently  what  little  semblance  of  religion 
all  times  and  in  all  things  ?  Is  it  in  your  thr-y  have,  must  be  ascribed  to  the  place 
estimation  of  supreme  importance?  of  their  birth,  or  the  custom  of  their  conn- 

We  know  what  most  men  think  on  this  try,  or  the  habits  of  their  friends.  Choice 
point.  "Religion,"  they  say,  "is  very  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  "Our  fathers 
well  in  its  place.  It  is  right  on  the  sab-  !  worshipped  in  this  mountain,"  .said  the 
bath.  It  is  a  good  thing  in  trouble  or  sick- 1  woman  of  Samaria.  "  Yes,"  answered 
ness,  an<l  abetter  thing  in  death."  And,  Christ,  "but  neither  they  nor  you  have 
then  ihoy  lay  it  aside  tdl  death,  or  trouble,  known  what  you  have  been  worshipping 
or  sickness,  comes.     But  have  you  found   here.     Ye    worshij>   ye  know  rot   what." 


198 


TRUE  RELIGION  EXEMPLIFIED  IN  MARY. 


And  the  same  may  be  said  of  half  the  pro- 
fessing Christians  we  meet  with.  "  Our 
fathers  believed  this  and  did  that,  and  there- 
fore we  do  and  believe  the  same" — that  is 
the  sum  of  their  religion. 

Others  again  are  religious  by  constraint. 
A  slavish  fear  compels  them.  Tell  them 
that  godliness  is  a  needful  thing,  they  ac- 
knowledge it  to  be  such  ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  they  wish  it  were  not  so  needful. 
They  do  not  like  it.  They  would  be  glad 
to  do  without  it,  if  they  could.  But  they 
dare  not  altogether  give  it  up.  Conscience 
would  disquiet  them  if  they  did.  And 
hence  they  go  on  with  a  round  of  weari- 
some duties.  Herod-like,  they  hear  many 
things  and  do  many  things.  But  there  is 
no  real  godliness  in  all  this.  There  is  no- 
thing of  that  gospel-spirit  the  apostle  speaks 
of,  "  not  the  spirit  of  fear,  but  of  power  and 
of  love."  In  this  case  again  there  is  no 
choice.  God  has  the  conscience  but  not 
the  heart.  These  men  are  not  won,  not 
gained  ;  they  are  only  restrained.  They 
are  unwilling  captives  in  fetters  they  hate. 

And  take  another  class  of  persons,  found 
chiefly  among  the  young.  They  are  reli- 
gious from  mere  feeling.  Their  imagina- 
tions have  been  in  some  way  wrought  on, 
and  their  sympathies  called  out.  Like  the 
stony  ground  hearers,  they  receive  the 
word,  and  with  gladness.  But  here  also 
the  case  is  the  same — there  has  been  no 
deliberation,  "no  solemn  and  deep  search- 
ings  of  heart,  no  serious  choosing.  Reli- 
gion has  not  yet  taken  any  root  in  the  soul ; 
it  is  merely  lying  on  the  surface.  Some- 
thing must  yet  be  done  within  them,  or,  like 
their  counterparts  in  the  parable,  these  green 
and  flourishing  plants  will  wither  aw^ay. 

The  religion  that  saves  the  soul,  lays 
hold  of  the  soul  before  it  saves  it,  and  the 
wiiole  soul.  It  commends  itself  to  the 
judgment,  it  wins  the  affections,  it  capti- 
vates the  heart.  It  is  first  seen  to  be  a 
necessary  thing,  then  felt  to  be  a  blessed 
thing,  then  determined  on  as  a  thing  which 
above  all  others  shall  be  chosen,  and  fol- 
lowed, and  held  fast.  The  taking  of  it  up 
is  a  personal  transaction  between  a  man 
and  his  God.  it  is  our  own  act  and  deed. 
It  is  the  soul's  solemn  and  deliberate  choice 
of  God  for  its  portion.  It  is  for  a  man  to 
say  coolly  and  firmly,  if  on  such  a  subject 
a  man  can  be  cool,  "  I  have  reckoned  the 
coijt,  arid  this  is  my  decision — I  count  all 
things  but   loss  for  the  e.xcellency  of  the 


knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord.  I 
will  lose  all  things,  rather  than  lose  him. 
By  his  help,  I  will  give  him  my  heart; 
and  I  pray  him  to  do  what  he  will  with 
that  heart,  to  break,  pierce,  wound  it  as  he 
may,  so  that  he  keeps  it  his.  O  that  he 
would  make  it  entirely  and  forever  his 
own  !"  If  this  is  your  language,  brethren, 
there  is  no  doubt  as  to  your  character.  It 
may  be  as  full  of  infirmity  and  imperfec- 
tion as  you  suppose  it,  but  you,  like  Mary, 
have  chosen  that  good  part  which  shall  not 
be  taken  away  from  you.  And  what  has 
led  you  to  choose  it  ?  Your  friends  and 
ministers,  your  mercies  and  afflictions  ? 
No  ;  they  could  no  more  turn  such  a  heart 
as  yours  from  the  world  to  God,  than  so 
many  straws  thrown  into  a  river  could 
alter  its  course.  The  Lord  himself  has 
made  you  "  a  willing  people  in  the  day  of 
his  power."  You  have  chosen  him,  be- 
cause he  first,  in  his  abounding  mercy, 
chose  you.  And  a  happy  choice  is  yours. 
Look  again  at  the  text.  It  says  to  you 
plainly  at  the  end  of  it.  Rejoice,  and  rejoice 
greatly,  in  the  choice  you  have  made.  It  is 
a  good  part,  it  says,  that  you  have  chosen  ; 
and  more  than  that — a  durable  and  lasting 
one  ;  it  is  something  you  cannot  lose. 

Now  this  is  more  than  can  be  said  of 
any  thing  else  we  possess.  Where,  when 
a  few  more  years  are  gone,  will  be  all 
other  things  which  are  ours  ?  Where  will 
those  very  things  be,  about  which  we  are 
now  at  times  so  careful  and  troubled  ? 
They  too  will  be  gone  ;  gone  with  the  years 
that  have  given  them  birth,  and  gone  to  us 
as  entirely.  Houses  and  lands,  business, 
riches,  pleasures,  friendships,  all  that  now 
occupies,  and  burdens,  and  fevers  us — it 
will  all  be  to  us  soon  no  more  than  as  '•  a 
dream  when  one  awaketh."  There  will 
a{)pear  to  us  no  more  reality  in  it.  We 
shall  have  no  more  to  do  with  it  than  with 
things  that  are  not.  O  the  strange  breach 
that  is  about  to  be  made  between  the  M'orld 
and  us  !  how  wide  and  fathomless  !  It  will 
•be  so  complete,  that  even  the  most  holy 
mind  cannot  always  contemplate  it  un- 
moved. There  will  not  be  a  fi-agment  of 
the  world  left  to  us.  And  a  mere  formal, 
outside  religion  will  go  the  same  way.  It 
is  born  of  the  earth,  and  when  we  leave  the 
earth,  we  shall  see  no  more  of  it.  Dcatb 
will  strip  it  olTus.  We  shall  go  into  eter- 
nity bare  and  naked  as  the  heathen.  But 
not  so  with  true  religion;  not  so  with  the 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  LAZARUS. 


109 


grace  ot  God  iv  the  soul  ;  not  so  with  tliat 
one  tiling  which  the  soul  feels  to  be  the  one 
thing  needful  for  it,  and  chooses  as  such. 
It  shall  not  be  taken  away  from  us.  The 
God  who  bestows  it,  will  not  take  it  away, 
for  it  is  one  of  his  gifts  which  are  without 
repentance.  Man  indeed  would  take  it 
away  if  he  could,  and  so  would  Satan  ;  but 
they  cannot ;  it  is  a  treasure  that  he  who 
is  stronger  than  man  or  Satan,  will  ever 
watch  over  and  preserve.  As  for  tlic  deso- 
lations of  death,  they  can  no  more  harm  or 
touch  it,  than  they  can  touch  the  soul  itself 
or  harm  God.  It  goes  along  with  the  soul 
into  another  world,  and  becomes  to  it  the 
one  thing  needful,  the  good  part  there. 
Hear  our  Lord.  He  compares  his  grace 
to  water,  and  says  of  it  that  it  shall  be  in 
the  soul  "  a  well  of  water  springing  up  into 
everlasting  life."  And  hear  St.  Paul.  He 
too  says  of  this  work  within  us,  that  it  is 
both  a  "good  work"  and  a  lasting  one. 
"  He  wIk)  hath  begun  it,"  he  tells  us,  "will 
perform"  or  complete  "  it  until  the  day  of 
Christ."  O  if  it  be  but  begun  in  us,  how 
can  we  rejoice  enough  in  it  ?  It  is  dan- 
gerous, I  know,  to  rejoice  in  any  thing  short 
of  Christ  himself.  We  may  allow  even  his 
best  and  holiest  gifts  to  draw  away  our  de- 
pendence from  him.  But  he  can  save  us 
from  this  danger.  While  he  is  our  chief 
joy,  the  grace  that  comes  from  him  may 
surely  be  our  next ;  for  what  is  it  ?  It  is 
heaven  begun  in  us  ;  it  is  the  seed  of  our 
future  holiness  and  our  endless  joy. 

And  this  is  the  way  to  ri.se  above  our 
worldly  cares  and  worldly  minds — to  look 
at  something  higher  and  better  than  world- 
ly things,  and  to  feel  it  to  be  our  own. 
Tiie  grace  of  Christ,  free  and  abounding ; 
the  love  of  Christ,  -tender,  vast,  and  eter- 
nal ;  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  quickening,  pu- 
rifying,  and  elevating  ;  the  blood  of  Christ, 
cleansing  the  soul  and  making  it  wiiite  as 
snow  ;  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  cover- 
ing the  soul,  and,  like  a  beauteous  robe, 
adorning  it ;  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  glori- 
ous, and  holy,  and  everla.sting ;  the  pre- 
sence of  Chri.st,  with  its  fulness  of  un- 
fading joy — to  have  these  before  us,  and 
to  say  of  these,  "  I  through  grace  liave 
chosen  them,  and  they  are  mine" — here, 
brethren,  is  the  best  cure  we  can  have 
for  an  earthly  heart;  here  is  .something 
:hat  can  rid  the  cumbered  and  weary  soul 
of  all  its  loads.  Let  us  then  once  more 
take  up  our  beautiful  collect  ibr  this  day 


and  say,  "  Lord  of  all  power  and  might, 
who  art  the  Author  and  Giver  of  all  good 
things,  graft  in  our  hearts  the  love  of  thy 
name,  increase  in  us  true  religion,  nour- 
ish us  with  all  goodness,  and  of  thy  great 
mercy  keep  us  in  the  same,  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord.     Amen." 


SERMON  XLII. 

THE    EIGIFTH    SUNDAY    AFTER    TRINITY. 

THE  RESURRECTION  OF  LAZARUS. 

St.  John  xi.  43,  44. — "And  when  he  thus  had 
spoken,  he  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  Lazarus, 
come  forth ;  and  he  that  was  dead,  came 
forth." 

Some  of  you  may  occasionally  have  seen 
a  painting  or  work  of  art,  .so  exquisitely 
beautiful  that  you  have  been  almost  afraid 
to  touch  it.  You  have  felt  that  nothing 
could  improve  it,  and  that  a  rash  hand 
might  very  easily  injure  or  disfigure  it. 
Like  this  is  the  feeling  with  which  we  re- 
gard some  of  the  historical  parts  of  God's 
holy  word.  We  ministers  shrink  from 
preaching  to  you  from  them,  lest  we  should 
mar  their  beauty  in  our  vain  endeavors  to 
set  it  forth,  and  weaken  their  effect  while 
attempting  to  increase  it.  The  liistory  be- 
fore us  is  of  this  kind.  I  will  make  no 
effort  to  give  new  force  to  it,  or  heighten 
your  admiration  of  it.  All  I  will  aim  at  is 
to  set  before  you,  as  plainly  as  I  can,  a  part 
of  the  instruction  it  affords. 

I.  The  first  remark  I  would  draw  from 
it,  is  this  very  common  one — tee  shou/d 
a/ways  be  prepared  for  trouble.  It  may 
enter  our  houses  and  our  hearts  also  when 
we  least  expect  it. 

The  chapter  presents  to  us,  at  the  open- 
ing  of  it,  a  scene  of  distress  where  we  cer- 
tainly  should  not  have  looked  for  one 
"  Jesus  loved  Martha,  and  her  sister,  anrl 
Lazarus,"  we  arc  told  ;  loved  them  exceed- 
ingly,  so  as  to  draw  attention  to  the  love  he 
bore  them  ;  and  besides  this,  their  house 
was  as  a  home  to  him  whenever  he  came  to 
Jerusalem  ;  he  often  retired  to  it  from  the 
turmoil  of  the  city  for  quiet  and  refresh- 
ment. If  ever  then,  we  should  have  said, 
there  was  a  house  secure  from  trouble,  it  is 
this — the  abode  of  those  whom  Christ  ten. 


aoo 


THE  RE>UURECT10X  OF  LAZARUS. 


derly  loves,  and  the  place  where  he  him- 
self finds  repose.  But  there  is  sickness  gone 
into  this  house,  and  alarm.  It  is  become  a 
scene  of  disquietude,  even  while  these  be- 
loved people  are  in  it,  and  the  blessed  Jesus 
is  still  on  the  earth,  and  needing  more  than 
ever  a  place  of  repose  in  it. 

We  know  that  Clirist's  love  for  us  will 
not  save  us  from  trouble.  "  As  many  as  I 
love,"  he  says,  "  I  rebuke  and  chasten." 
We  see  here  that  Christ's  seeming  need  of 
us  will  not  save  us  from  trouble.  He  will 
cut  down  our  comforts,  our  health  or  quiet 
or  any  thing  that  is  ours,  even  at  the  time 
wlien  he  is  condescending  to  employ  them 
in  his  se^'vice ;  laying  his  axe  apparently 
at  the  root  of  our  usefulness  to  him,  while 
lie  is  wounding  and  stripping  us  by  its 
jIows. 

II.  The  design  of  God  hi  our  troubles  often 
lies  deeper  than  we  can  at  first  see. 

"  Master,  who  did  sin,"  said  the  short- 
sighted di.sciples  to  their  Lord  on  another 
occasion,  "  this  man  or  his  parents,  that  he 
was  born  blind  ?"  "  Neither  hath  this  man 
sinned  nor  his  parents,"  Jesus  answered, 
"  but  that  the  works  of  God  should  be  made 
manifest  in  him  :"  God  has  his  own  honor 
in  view  in  that  man's  blindness.  So  here. 
What  lessons,  men  might  say,  does  this 
scene  of  distress  in  that  once  peaceful  house 
teach  us! — the  instability  of  human  happi- 
ness, the  insecurity  of  even  Christ's  dear- 
est friends  from  the  strokes  of  sorrow,  the 
mysteriousness  of  the  ways  of  God.  But 
what  says  Christ  of  this  distressing  scene  ? 
Not  one  W'Ofd  of  all  this.  "  This  sickness," 
he  says,  "  is  for  the  glory  of  God,  that  the 
Son  of  God  might  be  glorified  thereby." 

And  this  imparts  almost  a  grandeur  to 
our  afflictions,  brethren.  I  am  thinking  of 
myself  only  in  this  trouble,  how  to  get  re- 
lief from  it,  or  support  under  it,  or  at  the 
best  some  good  for  my  soul  from  it ;  but  the 
Lord  has  a  deeper  design — he  is  aiming  at 
his  own  glory  in  it.  It  may,  through  his 
grace,  benefit  me ;  but  it  must,  through 
his  power,  glorify  him.  Well  then  may  I 
be  content  to  be  afflicted.  I  cannot  do 
much  for  my  Saviour's  honor;  I  never 
could  ;  but  if  by  my  sorrows,  my  suffer- 
ings, my  infirmities,  he  can  get  honor  to 
hunself,  happy  sorrows,  happy  sufferings, 
blessed  infirmities  !  Lord,  lay  them  upon 
me  many  as  thou  wilt,  and  keep  them  on  me 
long  as  thou  pleasest. 

III.    Christ  soviethncs  delays  his  help  in 


our  afliclions,  though  ice  seek  it  earnestly 
and  in  a  way  he  approves. 

When  this  sickness  came  upon  Lazarus, 
our  Lord  was  at  a  distance.  He  had  lately 
been  in  Jerusalem,  but  the  Jews  had  been 
more  than  usually  incensed  against  him, 
and  to  escape  their  violence,  he  had  gone 
for  a  season  over  the  Jordan  into  the  Mil- 
derness,  perhaps  about  thirty  miles  away. 
Martha  and  Mary  however  send  off  a  mes- 
senger to  him,  and  words  could  not  convey 
a  more  earnest  or  touching  appeal  to  him, 
than  the  message  he  carries.  "  His  sisters 
sent  unto  him,  saying.  Lord,  behold,  he 
whom  thou  lovest  is  sick."  They  say  no 
more ;  they  do  not  ask  him  to  come  to 
them  ;  they  throw  themselves  and  their 
sick  brother  entirely  on  his  love,  feeling 
that  this  is  enough — it  will  certainly  bring 
him. 

We  are  reminded  here  of  a  somewhat 
similar  appeal  a  stranger  had  made  to  him 
some  time  before,  the  Roman  centurion. 
"  Lord,"  he  says,  "  my  servant  lieth  at 
home  sick  of  the  palsy,  grievously  lor- 
mented."  He  does  not  add  to  this,  "  Pray 
help  him  ;"  he  seems  to  think  that  the  mere 
making  known  to  Christ  of  his  need  of  help 
will  bring  help  to  him,  that  his  servant's 
misery  will  of  itself  move  Christ's  mercy. 
And  he  thinks  aright.  "  I  will  come  and 
heal  him,"  is  at  once  the  Saviour's  merci- 
ful and  lofty  answer.  But  here  what  do 
we  find  ?  Not  his  mercy,  the  ordinary 
compassion  of  his  nature,  but  his  love  is 
appealed  to,  and  most  affectingly  appealed 
to,  and  by  those  very  dear  to  him  in  behalf 
of  one  as  dear  ;  and  yet  he  moves  not. 
He  really  loved  Lazarus;  the  evangelist 
takes  care  to  tell  us  this  ;  but  in  the  very 
next  sentence  he  tells  us,  "  when  he  had 
heard  that  he  was  sick,  he  abode  tM'o 
days  still  in  the  same  place  where  he  was." 
There  is  a  civil  a,nswer  for  his  distressed 
sisters,  but  apparently  an  untrue  one  ;  kind 
words  for  them,  but  no  assistance.  We 
can  easily  conceive  their  wonder  and  dis- 
appointment, the  sinking  and  sickening  of 
their  hearts,  when  their  messenger  re- 
turned. 

And  have  you,  brethren,  never  experi- 
enced any  thing  of  this  kind,  I  do  not  say 
from  your  fellow-men  when  you  have 
sought  their  help,  but  from  this  very  Jesus  ? 
If  you  have  long  known  him  and  often  tried 
him,  you  certainly  have.  He  lias  left 
trouble  upon  you  after  you  have  implored 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  LAZARUS. 


201 


him  to  remove  it,  and  has  kept,  or  seemed  I  her.  Christ  sets  out  with  him,  but  as  they 
to  keep,  far  away  from  you  wlien  you  iiave  |  are  going,  "  there  comes  one  to  Jairus  from 
besouclit  him  to  draw  near 


And  this  has 
more  than  distressed,  it  has  surprised  and 
perplexed  you.  "  There  stands  the  prom- 
ise," you  say,  "  '  Call  upon  me  in  the  day 
of  trouble,  and  I  will  deliver  thee'— we 
have  called  upon  him,  and  he  has  not  de- 
livered us.  We  have  cast  ourselves  on  his 
mercy,  nay,  on  his  love,  for  we  have  felt  at 
times  that'  he  really  loves  us,  but  it  has 
been  all  in  vain  :  he  "heeds  us  not ;  our 
prayers  all  seem  to  fall  to  the  ground  un- 
answered and  unnoticed."  It  is  well, 
brethren,  if  in  such  seasons  the  Lord  keeps 
our  minds  clear  from  some  of  the  very 
darkest  workings  of  suspicion  and  unbelief. 
But  this  history  says  to  us,  we  must  be 
quiet.  The  great  Saviour  is  only  dealing 
with  us  as  he  often  deals  w  ith  his  friends, 
even  with  those  he  loves  the  most.  The 
bread  may  be  bitter,  but  it  is  the  children's 
bread,  and  the  very  best  our  Father  can 
now  find  for  us.  'Prayers  heard  and  at 
once  granted  are  great  encouragements  to 
our  faith  ;  but  our  faith  must  be  tried  as 
well  as  encouraged.  For  the  tree  to  strike 
its  roots  deep  in  the  earth,  it  must  have  the 
wind  and  the  storm,  we  say,  as  well  as  the 
sunshine,  the  wind  and  the  storm  that  seem 
ready  at  times  to  tear  it  up  ;  and  for  our 
faith  to  be  the  vigorous,  strong  faith  of 
God's  elect,  the  faith  that  most  honors  him, 
and  that  most  humbles  and  sanctifies  us, 
and  falls  in  the  best  with  his  ways,  carry- 
ing us  triumphantly  on  amid  the  varied 
scenes  through  which  he  is  leading  us,  it 
must  have  discouragements,  delays,  and 
denials,  to  try  it.  It  must  have  its  strength 
called  out  by  such  things  as  these,  exer- 
cised by  them,  and  so  invigorated  by  them 
and  increased. 

IV.  Our  silmtion  in  trouble  sometimes  be- 
comes worse  while  we  are  applying  to  Christ 
for  help  in  it,  and  not  worse  only,  but  in  ap- 
pearance hopeless.  Lazarus  was  sick  only 
when  the  messenger  was  sent  off  from  his 
house,  but  while  that  messenger  is  telling 
Jesus  of  his  sickness,  or  soon  afterwards,  he 
dies. 

And  this  same  thing  had  before  happened 
to  another  of  our  Lord's  petitioners.  _  Jai- 
rus, the  ruler  of  a  synagogue,  applies  to 
him  in  behalf  of  a  sick  child,  his  only 
daughter.  With  all  a  father's  earnestness 
he  casts  himself  at  his  feet,  and  beseeches 
him  to  come  with  him  to  his  house  and  heal 
26 


is  hou.se,  saying.  Thy  daughter  is  dead." 
The  child  dies,  observe,  while  the  father 
is  by  our  Lord's  side  imploring  him  to  save 
her. 

And  it  is  often  thus  with  the  praying 
people  of  God  ;  often  in  their  worldly  cir- 
cumstances, still  oftener  in  their  spiritual 
experience.  We  look  to  him  for  light,  but, 
behold,  darkness,  thicker  darkness.  Our 
situation  becomes  worse  while  we  are  pray- 
ing  to  him  for  relief,  till  at  last  it  is,  as  we 
thmk,  beyond  relief,  perfectly,  irrecovera- 
bly hopeless.  And  God's  purpose  in  af- 
fiicting  us  often  requires  that  our  afllict  fns 
should  come  to  this. — His  design  is  to  glo- 
rify himself  in  our  deliverance,  and  to  ac- 
complish this  design  to  the  extent  he  pur- 
poses, he  must  bring  us  into  an  extremity 
before  he  appears  for  us.  Our  condition 
must  seem  desperate,  that  his  power  may 
be  seen,  and  his  pity  and  love  be  seen,  as 
he  delivers  us  out  of  it.  He  might  have 
gone  ai  once  to  Lazarus,  have  found  him 
alive,  and  healed  him.  The  act  would 
have  been  a  kind  and  a  great  one ;  it 
would  have  manifested  his  kindness  and 
greatness,  just  as  many  other  of  his  mira- 
cles had  done.  But  he  loved  Lazarus  ;  he 
had  singled  him  out  as  a  special  object 
wherein  to  show  forth  his  greatness  ;  and 
therefore  he  will  not  go  and  heal  him  ;  he 
keeps  away  from  him  when  he  is  sick ; 
lets  him  die,  and  be  buried,  and  lie  four 
days  in  his  grave.  To  accomplish  his  glo- 
rious design  in  him,  he  places  him,  not  only 
out  of  the  reach  of  man's  help,  but  appa- 
rently beyond  the  reach  of  his  own.  He 
had  never  yet  helped  any  one  in  such  a 
case  as  this.  Twice  before  he  had  raised 
the  dead,  but  he  had  never  before  called  a 
buried  man  from  his  tomb. 

Is  there  any  one  here  who  is  saying,  "  I 
see  not  how  help  can  reach  me  ?"  So 
much  the  better,  this  history  says  to  you  ; 
the  Lord  can  now  magnify  himself  in 
stretching  forth  his  helping  arm  to  you. 
Do  you  say  again,  "  ^ly  case  is  beyond 
relief?"  So  much  the  better,  this  history 
answers  again  ;  the  Lord  can  now  glorify 
his  power  in  bringing  you  relief  when  none 
other  can.  It  begins  to  be  really  well  with 
a  praying  man,  when  every  earthly  refuge 
fails  him,  when  every  prop  underneath  him 
breaks,  when  the  very  ground  beneath  his 
feet  seems  to  be  giving  way.     Then  a  glo- 


202 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  LAZARUS. 


rious  God  delights  to  come  in,  and  show 
himself  strong  in  his  behalf.  It  is  at  "  the 
evening  time"  that  he  promises  us  light ; 
it  is  "  when  the  poor  and  needy  seek  wa- 
ter and  there  is  none,"  tiiat  he  engages  to 
open  rivers  and  fountains  for  them,  and 
make  the  desert  a  pool. 

V.  We  always  have  the  notice  and  sym- 
pathy  of  Christ,  in  our  ajjiictions,  even  though 
he  delay  long  to  help  us  under  the7n. 

It  is  easy  to  see  from  our  Lord's  dis- 
course with  his  disciples,  where  his  heart 
was  while  he  was  lingering  these  two  days 
in  the  wilderness.  It  was  at  Bethany,  in 
the  chamber  of  Lazarus  and  with  his  suf- 
fering sisters.  He  doubtless  felt  it  a  grief 
to  him  to  keep  away  from  Bethany  ;  to 
have  the  power  of  alleviating  and  remov- 
ing the  misery  of  those  he  so  much  loved, 
and  yet  not  to  use  it.  And  we  can  easily 
conceive  that  one  of  the  peculiar  sources 
of  his  suffering  on  earth  was  this  very 
thing.  We  feel  pain  when  we  see  misery, 
because  we  long  to  relieve  it  and  cannot; 
he  must  have  felt  a  deeper  pain  when  he 
saw  it — he  could  relieve  it  and  must  not  ; 
the  glory  of  God  required  that  he  should 
be  constantly  restraining  his  compassion 
and  holding  back  his  arm. 

He  comes  at  last  to  Bethany,  and  were 
it  not  for  the  wonderful  miracle  with  which 
this  history  ends,  we  should  say  that  his 
great  design  in  coming  here  is  to  manifest 
to  his  church  his  amazing  sympathy. 
Never  before  had  he  so  manifested  it ;  no- 
where else  in  the  whole  book  of  God  is 
there  such  a  discovery  made  to  us  of  its 
real  character. 

It  is  patient  sympathy  that  we  find  in  him 
here;  forbearing;  not  crushed  or  chilled, 
as  ours  often  is,  by  a  hasty  word.  "  Lord," 
said  first  one  and  then  the  other  of  these 
sisters  to  him,  "  Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been 
here,  my  brother  had  not  died."  Here  is 
something  like  a  reproach  for  him  from 
their  wounded,  anguished  hearts ;  but  he 
can  pity  their  anguished  hearts  ;  he  bears 
it. 

It  is  tender  sympathy  that  he  displays. 
He  can  talk  with  Martha,  observe,  reason 
with  and  question  her,  for  Martha  can  talk 
with  Iiim  ;  she  is  calm  and  collected  :  but 
look  at  him  when  Mary  comes,  the  tender- 
hearted, deeply  feeling  Mary.  She  can- 
not talk,  she  is  not  collected  ;  she  utters 
one  short  sentence  and  throws  herself  at 
his  feet.     He  meets   her  state  of  feel  in"- 


also.  Not  one  v\  ord  does  he  say  to  her, 
but  he  asks  immediately  of  the  bystanders, 
"  Where  have  ye  laid  him  ?"  as  though  he 
could  not  bear  the  sight  of  that  silent  wo- 
man's sufferings,  but  is  impatient  at  once 
to  end  them. 

And  it  is  a  general,  extensive  sympathy 
we  see  in  him.  We  are  ready  to  think 
that  Christ  has  compassion  for  those  he 
loves  only,  his  people,  his  friends.  He  has 
compassion,  brethren,  for  all.  The  weep- 
ing Jews  attract  his  notice  here  and  touch 
his  heart ;  and  they  do  so  with  Mary  at 
his  feet,  and  Martha  by  his  side,  and  the 
much  loved  Lazarus  at  a  short  distance 
from  him  in  his  grave.  His  compassion  is 
as  wide  as  he  bids  our  compassion  to  be, — 
it  embraces  all  the  suffering  and  all  the 
wretched.  And  as  for  its  depth,  its  strength 
— "  Jesus  groaned  in  the  spirit,"  "  he  was 
troubled,"  "  he  wept" — these  three  senten- 
ces show  us  that  it  passes  in  strength  all 
human  sympathy,  and  the  utmost  concep- 
tions we  can  form  of  his.  In  a  few  min- 
utes  all  the  sorrow  he  beheld  around  him 
would  be  chased  away  ;  he  well  knew  that 
he  was  going  to  chase  it  away  ;  and  yet  it 
wrings  his  heart  till  he  can  scarcely  look 
on  it. 

And  this  wonderful  sympathy,  brethren, 
still  exists  within  him.  We  ourselves  are 
the  objects  of  it.  V/e  are  so  at  this  very 
moment,  if  we  are  in  any  grief,  trouble,  or 
adversity.  The  eyes,  the  mind,  the  heart, 
of  Christ  are  upon  us,  and  will  be  upon  us 
till  our  grief  or  trouble  is  over.  "  Touch- 
ed with  a  feeling  of  our  infirmities,"  is  the 
testimony  the  Holy  Spirit  gives  us  of  him, 
not  in  his  earthly,  but  in  his  heavenly  con- 
dition ;  and  it  is  as  true  as  that  he  lives  and 
reigns  ;  as  true  as  that  we  have  infirmities, 
and  can  sometimes  hardly  find  a  friend  on 
the  earth  to  care  for  them.  The  Lord 
cares  for  them,  the  Lord  in  his  high  estate, 
the  enthroned  Jesus,  our  mighty  Saviour, 
one  who  can  help  and  succor  as  well  as 
pity  and  feel. 

VI.  The  Lord  Jesus,  though  he  may  delay 
his  help  in  our  ajjiictions,  will  ulli?nately  Jill 
our  hearts  with  wonder  and  praise  at  the 
issue  of  thetn. 

"  Where  have  ye  laid  him  ?"  he  said. 
The  wondering  people  led  him  to  the  sepul- 
chre, and  there  takes  place  that  astonishing 
scene  which  the  words  in  the  text  describe. 
"Take  ye  away  the  stone,"  says  Christ, 
as  he  stands,  once  more  calm  in  his  great- 


THE  RESURRECTION  OF  LAZARUS. 


203 


ness,  by  the  grave's  mouth.  He  ncetlcd 
not  their  aid  to  remove  tliat  stone,  but  he 
will  not  work  by  miracle  when  he  can 
work  in  his  ordinary  way  ;  he  will  seldom 
lay  bare  his  own  arm  when  he  can  ctFect 
his  purpose  by  a  creature's  arm.  "  Take 
ye  away  the  stone,"  he  says.  The  terri- 
fied Martha  cries  out  "  No" — we  often  want 
to  stop  Christ  when  Christ  is  about  to  do 
something  great  for  us.  But  he  will  not 
be  stopped — the  stone  is  removed.  One 
look  upward,  one  word,  for  the  people's 
sake,  of  his  dependence  on  his  Father,  and 
tlien  issues  from  his  majestic  lips  the  com- 
mand, "  Lazarus,  come  forth  ;  and  he  that 
was  dead  came  forth." 

What  a  scene  does  this  simple  but  sub- 
lime sentence  at  once  place  before  us  ! — the 
awe-struck,  shrinking  multitude,  the  won- 
dering sisters,  the  pale  wondering  man,  the 
calm  but  inwardly  exulting  Saviour.  And 
what  after  a  moment  or  two  must  have  fol- 
lowed ?  Some  of  you  who  have  atfection- 
ate  hearts,  may  say,  "  We  can  tell — those 
happy  sisters  will  spring  into  that  raised  up 
brother's  arms  ;"  but  others  will  say,  "  No; 
Martha  may  be  there,  but  not  Mary.  She 
will  be  just  where  she  was  a  few  minutes 
ago,  at  her  Saviour's  feet  ;  and  not  thank- 
ing and  blessing  him  aloud  there,  but  silent, 
with  a  heart  ready  to  burst  within  her  with 
adoration  and  love." 

But  looking  at  this  scene  with  a  more 
thoughtful  eye,  what  have  we  in  it  ?  The 
design  of  God  that  we  heard  of  at  first  in 
this  hi.story,  accomplished — his  glory  mani- 
fested, Christ's  glory  manifested;  and  to- 
gether with  this,  his  mysterious  conduct  to- 
wards the  friends  he  loved,  cleared  up ; 
their  griefs  and  troubles,  their  fears  and 
suspicions,  gone ;  their  joy  and  their  Re- 
deemer's glory  breaking  forth  together. 
Shall  I  lead  you  forward,  brethren,  to  an 
hour  yet  future,  when  a  scene  somewhat 
like  this,  but  far  more  happy  and  far  more 
glorious,  will  take  place  ?  that  scene  when 
all  the  "  mystery  of  God"  shall  be  finished  ; 
when  all  his  my.sterious  dealings  with  all 
his  servants  shall  be  made  plain  ;  when  the 
glory  of  the  Lord  shall  be  revealed  in  its 
unveiled  majesty,  and  all  flesh  shall  see  it 
together  ;  a  scene  in  which  you  and  I  shall 
see  that  the  Lord,  notwithstanding  all  he 
has  done  with  us,  is  indeed  good  and  indeed 
glorious,  and  that  had  we  ten  thousand 
tongues  we  could  not  prai.se  him  enough,  or 
a  thousand  hearts  we  could  not  adore  him 


enough  ?  But  tliere  is  iinother  view  to  be 
taken  of  this  spectacle. 

Brethren,  the  hour  is  coming  when  not 
one  dead  man  only,  but  all  that  are  in  their 
graves,  shall  hear  the  voice  of  this  Son  of 
Man  and  shall  come  forth.  This  miracle 
was  undoubtedly  intended  to  remind  us  of 
this  hour,  and  of  the  mighty  power  which 
the  Lord  Jesus  will  then  manifest  over  the 
sleeping  dead.  In  a  few  short  years  we 
ourselves  shall  sleep  with  the  dead.  Every 
one  of  us  will  as  surely  be  in  his  grave,  as 
he  is  now  within  these  walls.  Earth  to 
earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust,  will  have 
ended  our  history.  O  that  we  could  now 
feel — do  that  hard  thing — feel  as  dying 
men!  But  this  is  not  enough.  O  that  we 
could  all  feel  as  men  in  whose  ears  that  com- 
mand will  surely  sound,  "  Come  forth  !" 
as  men  who  are  one  day  to  ri.se  out  of  their 
graves  and  live  again  !  It  will  be  so,  breth- 
ren. We  with  our  own  ears  shall  hear 
this  Son  of  Man's  commanding  voice  ;  we 
with  our  own  wondering  eyes  shall  wake 
up  and  see  his  face.  What  will  follow  ? 
Where  shall  you  and  I  be  a  short  time 
after  we  have  left  our  graves  and  beheld 
our  Lord  ?  with  him  or  banished  from  him? 
adoring  him  in  glory  or  blaspheming  him  in 
misery  ?  in  heaven  or  in  hell  ?  Surely 
this  is  a  question  worth  the  asking.  Say 
not,  he  is  a  weak  man  who  deems  it  import- 
ant ;  say  rather,  he  is  one  of  the  weakest 
and  most  deluded  of  all  men,  who  will  not 
give  it  a  thought. 

Have  you  thought  of  it,  and  are  you  say- 
ing within  yourselves  as  you  think  of  it, 
"  O  let  me  find  mercy  of  the  Lord  in  that 
day  ?"  If  you  would  find  it  tlien,  you 
mu.st  seek  and  find  it  now.  All  the  mercy 
a  sinner  can  ever  need,  is  at  Christ's  dispo- 
sal ;  and  one  great  end  this  miracle  was 
designed  to  answer,  is  to  let  you  see  that 
the  mercy  you  perhaps  most  need,  is  at  his 
di.spo.sal.  What  does  it  proclaim  to  you  ? 
That  the  Lord  Jesus  has  the  human  soul  at 
his  command  ;  that  he  can  do  with  the  im- 
mortal spirit  of  a  man  whatsoever  he  will. 
And  in  what  state  is  your  soul  ?  Dead 
perhaps,  "dead  in  trespasses  and  sins;" 
buried  and  entombed  in  its  own  cori-uptions. 
You  want  him  to  do  for  you  that  mo.st  great 
and  Godlike  work,  the  wakingofyou  up  from 
a  death  in  sin  to  a  life  of  rigliteousncss. 
And  he  can  accomplish  this.  It  is  his  ofllce 
and  delight  by  his  Holy  Spirit  to  accomplish 
it.     Shall  I  say  then  to  you,  "  Awake,  thou 


204 


THE  ISRAELITES  DESIRING  FLESH  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


that  sleeppst,  and  arise  from  the  dead,  and 
Clirist  shall  give  thee  light  ?"  O  say  rath- 
er to  yourselves,  "  We  must  awake  and 
arise,  or  we  shall  perish."  Say  rather  to 
him  who  proclaims  himself  here  "  the  re- 
surrection and  the  life,"  "  Lord,  bid  us  live. 
Lord,  be  thou  the  resurrection  and  the  life 
of  our  entombed  souls." 


SERMON  XLIIL 

THE    NINTH    SUNDAY    AFTER    TRINITY. 

THE  ISRAELITES  DESIRING  FLESH  IN  THE 
WILDERNESS. 

Numbers  xi.  33. — "  And  while  the  flesh  was  yet 
between  their  teeth,  ere  it  was  chewed,  the 
wrath  of  the  Lord  was  kindled  against  the  peo- 
ple, and  the  Lord  smote  the  people  with  a  very 
great  plague." 

The  journey  of  the  Israelites  through  the 
wilderness,  was  attended  with  many  start- 
ling events  ;  but  here  is  one  of  the  strangest 
and  most  fearful  of  all.  May  a  God  of 
mercy  bring  home  to  every  one  of  us  the 
solemn  lessons  it  conveys  ! 

It  naturally  divides  itself  into  two  parts 
— the  sin  of  which  the  people  were  guilty 
at  this  time,  and  the  conduct  of  God  towards 
them  in  consequence  of  it. 

I.  Their  sin  many  of  us  may  consider  a 
trifle.  Certainly  it  was  not  of  that  charac- 
ter which  the  judgment  inflicted  on  them 
would  lead  us  to  anticipate.  We  read  here 
of.no  enormous  transgression,  or  daring 
violation  of  God's  law.  All  they  were 
guilty  of,  was  a  strong  and  indulged  desire 
for  something  which  God  had  not  given 
tnem.  "  Something  evil,"  you  will  say 
perhaps,  but  not  so  ;  it  was  one  of  the  most 
harmles-s  things  they  could  have  desired. 
The  Lord  had  provided  them  with  manna 
for  their  support ;  they  were  weary  of 
manna  and  wanted  flesh.  "  The  children 
of  Israel,"  we  read,  "  wept  again,  and  said, 
Who  shall  give  us  flesh  to  cat  ?" 

If  any  of  you  should  think  I  am  misrep- 
resenting their  oflence,  refer  to  the  end  of 
the  chapter.  The  transaction  was  now 
over.  The  anger  of  the  Lord  had  smitten 
the  people,  and  they  lay  in  I)uried  heaps 
upon  thfc  plain.  To  perpetuate  ihe  memo- 
ry of  the  event,  it  pleased  God  to  give  the 
scene  of  it  a  new  name,  and  one  that  should 


be  descriptive  at  once  of  the  peoj  le's  sin, 
and  his  own  righteous  displeasure  against 
it.  And  what  does  he  call  it  ?  "  Kibroth- 
hattaavah,"  that  is,  says  the  margin,  "  the 
graves  of  lust."  And  why  this  name?  "Be- 
cause," adds  the  history,  "  there  they  buried 
the  people  that  lusted,"  telling  us  as  plain- 
ly as  words  can  speak,  that  their  lust  or 
coveting  had  been  their  destruction,  and 
consequently  had  constituted  their  crime. 

1.  You  see  then,  brethren,,  the  nature  of 
the  sin  we  have  before  us.  It  is  a  sin  of 
the  heart — coveting,  desiring  ;  and  that  not 
slightly,  but  very  eagerly,  with  the  full 
bent  of  the  mind.  It  is  not  spiritual  idola- 
try, though  it  is  like  it.  That  is  making 
too  much  of  what  we  have  ;  this  is  making 
too  much  of  what  we  want.  It  is  a  longing 
for  some  earthly  good,  as  though  of  itself 
it  could  make  us  happy,  or  at  least  as 
though  there  were  no  happiness  for  us  with, 
out  it.  Rachel  was  guilty  of  this  sin, 
when  she  said,  "  Give  me  children,  or  else 
I  die."  David  was  approaching  it,  when 
he  said,  "  O  that  one  would  give  me  drink 
of  the  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem  !" 
Ahab  was  .sunk  deeply  in  it,  when  he  long- 
ed for  the  vineyard  of  Naboth. 

You  see  too  that  we  have  a  sin  before 
us  of  very  common  occurrence  ;  none  more 
common.  Every  man  that  lives  has  per- 
haps, at  some  time  or  other,  fallen  into  it. 
We  ourselves  have  committed  it.  How 
many  of  us  are  guilty  of  it  at  the  present 
time,  the  great  God  only  knows  ;  but  let 
our  hearts  be  laid  bare,  let  their  secret 
workings  and  desires  come  out,  this  con- 
gregation, notwithstanding  all  its  decency 
and  apparent  seriousness,  might  present  in 
one  moment  a  mournful  resemblance  to  the 
camp  of  Israel.  We  should  see  here  de- 
sires as  strong  as  ever  disquieted  that  fool 
ish  people,  and  for  objects  as  trifling.  Some 
of  you  may  say,  "  No,"  but  such  men 
know  nothingof  "their  own  hearts,  and  very 
little  of  the  hearts  of  others.  No  Christian 
man  will  speak  thus.  He  will  rather  say, 
"  I  am  verily  guilty  in  this  matter.  I  have 
fallen  into  this  sin  or  approached  it  more 
frequently  than  I  can  toll.  No  object  too 
contemptible  to  lay  hold  of  n)y  heart.  It 
has  ached  for  a  bubble,  and  did  not  my  God 
restrain  me,  it  could  ache  for  it  again  to-day, 
and  so  ache  for  it,  as  though  that  poor  bub- 
ble were  its  all."  And  why  is  this?  Be- 
cause the  believer's  heart  has  nothing  to 
satisfy  it  ?     O  no. 


THE  ISRAELITES  DESIRING  FLESH  IX  THE  WILDERNESS. 


205 


,  2.  Look  at  the  cause  or  spring  of  Israol's 
sin.  It  did  not  arise  from  want.  True, 
they  were  in  a  wilderness,  and  a  barren 
one,  but  their  need  was  all  supplied  and 
abundantly  supplied  in  it.  They  could 
not  suffer  hunger,  for  there  fell  daily  for 
them  food  from  the  clouds.  "  God  opened 
the  doors  of  licaven,"  says  the  psalmist, 
"and  rained  down  manna  upon  them  to 
eat,  and  gave  them  of  the  corn  of  heaven. 
Man  did  eat  angels'  food  ;  he  sent  them 
meat  to  the  full."  Their  desire  for  flesh 
was  a  desire  springing  up  amidst  abundance. 
It  had  its  origin,  not  in  their  necessities,  but 
in  their  vile  alfections,  their  own  unsub- 
dued, carnal  minds. 

And  it  is  the  same  with  you.  Christian 
brethren,  when  you  fall  into  this  sin.  Your 
situation  in  the  world  may  be  trying,  but  it 
is  not  your  situation,  that  sets  your  desires 
roving  ;  it  is  not  want,  or  hunger,  or  deso- 
lation. A  faithful  God  has  provided  for 
you  in  every  condition  enough  and  to  spare. 
The  root  of  the  evil  is  in  yourselves.  You 
might  eat  angels'  food ;  you  might  live 
every  hour  on  heavenly  bread  and  heavenly 
comforts,  be  as  happy  and  satisfied  in  the 
wilderness,  as  though  the  wilderness  were 
a  Goshen  ;  sing  witli  David,  "  My  cup  run- 
neth over;"  and  exclaim  with  Paul,  "I 
have  all  things  and  abound  ;"  but  your 
own  earthly  affections  get  in  the  way.  You 
thirst  after  earthly  comforts,  and  earthly 
supports  and  pleasures,  and  then  you  say, 
"1  am  starving;"  then  you  begin  to  ask, 
"  Who  will  show  me  any  good  ?"  Then 
perhaps  some  seeming  good  comes  in  your 
way,  and  you  know  what  follows — you 
long  for  it  as  you  ought  to  long  for  nothing 
but  God,  and  labor  for  it  as  though  you 
were  laboring  for  heaven.  Is  it  thus  with 
you  now  ?  Then  learn  from  this  history 
that  it  is  not  your  situation,  which  makes  it 
thus  with  you.  You  are  hungering  for 
flesh  with  manna  all  around  you.  It  is 
sin  that  docs  the  mischief,  the  sin  "  that 
dwelleth  in  you,"  your  own  fallen  nature. 
WiCn  t'nat  reigning  in  your  hearts,  paradise 
would  not  be  large  enough  or  happy  enough 
for  us  ;  no,  nor  the  kingdom  of  God. 

But  what  frequently  sets  this  evil  prin- 
ciple at  work  ?     The  chapter  will  show. 

3.  Observe  next  the  occasion  of  Israel's 
sin. 

We  are  told  in  the  twelfth  chapter  of 
Exodus,  that  when  the  people  came  out  of 
Egypt  there  came  out  with  them  "  a  mixed 


I  multitude  ;"   that  is,  a  crowd  of  foreigners 

i  and  strangers,  n)on  not  Israelites,  who  hoped 

:  to  share  the  land  of  promise  with   Israel, 

but  who  were  not  prej)ared  to  undergo  any 

I  difiiculties  in  order  to  obtain  it.     With  this 

half-hearted  throng,  the  sin  we  are  examin- 

I  ing  began.     We  read  in  the  fourtli  verse 

I  of  this  chapter,  that  "  the  mixed  multitude 

that  was  among  the  people,  fell  a  lusting;" 

and   then   the   Israelites,   contan)inatcd   by 

their  example,  lusted  also. 

And  so  it  generally  is.  To  associate 
with  men  of  worldly  minds,  is  to  have  a 
worldly  mind.  To  mix  with  men  of  this 
world  is,  in  most  instances,  to  be  one  of  the 
men  of  this  world.  We  catch  before  we 
are  aware  their  temper  and  spirit.  The 
things  they  have  we  desire  to  have.  The 
things  they  value,  we  learn  to  value.  What 
they  are  aiming  at,  we  begin  to  aim  at. 
Wo  do  not  raise  them,  but  they  sink  us. 
And  then,  after  a  time,  what  becomes  of 
our  Christianity  ?  It  is  frittered  away.  It 
is  retained  perhaps  in  our  creed,  but  every- 
where else  it  is  gone — gone,  it  may  be, 
from  our  houses,  and  families,  and  cham- 
bers— gone  assuredly  from  our  hearts.  The 
spirit  of  it  is  gone,  the  power,  the  savor,  the 
enjoyment,  of  it.  At  last  something  else 
is  let  in  to  supply  its  place  ;  nay,  some- 
thing else  must  be  let  in,  for  the  soul  that 
has  once  rested  on  God,  will  never  let  God 
go  without  finding  some  other  object  on 
which  to  rest.  And  what  will  that  object 
be  ?  Or  rather,  what  may  it  not  be  ?  Noth- 
ing then  will  be  too  mean  for  us  ;  we  can 
stoop  to  any  thing.  Look  at  the  fifth  verse 
— the  leeks,  and  the  onions,  and  the  garlic, 
of  Egypt  will  do  Xor  us,  and  do  better  than 
the  bread  of  heaven.  O  brethren,  dread  the 
mixed  multitude.  Stand  in  fear  of  worldly- 
minded  professors  of  Christ's  gospel.  They 
will  teach  you,  and  teach  you  soon,  to  lust 
for  the  things' you  now  despise.  They  will 
drive,  if  not  the  fear,  yet  the  peace  of  God 
from  your  hearts,  and  all  they  will  give 
you  in  exchange  for  it,  will  be  a  craving, 
aching  soul,  a  share  in  their  own  restless- 
ness and  discontent.     Turn  again  to  Israel. 

4.  Mark  the  effect  of  their  sin,  its  imme- 
diate eflect,  I  mean,  on  their  own  minds. 
It  made  them  completely  wretched.  "  Our 
soul  is  dried  away,"  they  say.  "  We  have 
no  soul  left,  no  inward  enjoyment  or  life." 
They  "  wept  again,"  we  read,  when  they 
said,  "Who  shall  give  us  flesh  to  eat?" 
And  this  weeping  was  not  the  shedding  of 


206 


THE  ISRAELITES  DESIRING  FLESH  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


a  tear  or  two  by  a  few  of  them  in  private  ; 
the  tenth  verse  represents  it  as  a  general, 
and  public,  and  violent  weeping ;  "  Moses 
heard  the  people  weep  throughout  their 
families,  every  man  in  the  door  of  his  tent." 
What  a  pitiable  spectacle  !  Many  thousand 
men  shedding  tears  of  bitterness,  not  from 
hunger  and  exhaustion,  for  they  have  food 
in  abundance,  but  because  they  wish  for  a 
particular  kind  of  food  and  cannot  get  it. 

Incredible  as  this  folly  may  appear,  some 
of  you  well  know  where  to  look  for  a  coun- 
terpart to  it.  There  is  now  before  your 
minds  a  period  of  your  life,  when  some 
earthly  desire  entangled  your  soul ;  and  O 
the  disquietude,  and  tumult,  and  at  last  the 
misery  it  occasioned  there !  It  withered 
all  your  spiritual  comforts  ;  it  hid  your 
God  from  you  ;  it  took  away  your  relish 
even  for  your  worldly  mercies  ;  it  made 
the  whole  earth  a  wilderness  to  you,  barren 
and  desolate,  and  you  wretched  in  it.  For 
want  of  one  thing,  you  felt  as  though  you 
had  nothing  ;  and  wept  and  wept  again, 
as  though  God  had  stripped  you  bare.  Ahab 
restless  on  his  bed,  heavy  and  sad,  putting 
away  his  food,  and  all  this  with  a  kingdom 
at  his  command,  because  the  little  vineyard 
of  Naboth  is  denied  him — herein  your  esti- 
mation is  no  overcharged  portrait ;  your 
own  chambers  have  witnessed  scenes  as 
humiliating  and  strange.  The  truth  is,  the 
mind  of  man  cannot  long  bear  a  strong  and 
unchecked  desire.  It  must  be  gratified  or 
have  a  prospect  of  being  gratified,  or  it  con- 
sumes the  soul.  Nothing  lays  waste  like 
it.  It  enfeebles  and  brings  to  nothing  the 
noblest  mind.  It  would  unman  a  giant. 
It  is  harder  to  be  borne  than  a  severe  afflic- 
tion. Many  a  man  who,  by  God's  help, 
has  sustained  the  one,  and  brought  honor  to 
his  God  by  his  calm  sustaining  of  it,  has 
sunk  down  in  pitiable  weakness  beneath 
the  other.  Perhaps  we  may  say,  this  is 
one  main  ingredient  in  the  misery  of  hell — 
a  longing,  and  a  longing,  and  a  longing 
still,  for  something  that  never  can  be  had. 

5.  Notice  one  thing  more  in  this  craving 
of  the  Israelites — its  sinfulness  or  guilt. 

We  are  considering,  you  remember,  a 
desire,  not  for  any  thing  in  itself  evil  or 
forbidden,  but  for  flesh  to  cat — something 
lawful  and  permitted  whenever  it  can  be 
obtained.  It  is  true,  St.  Paul  says,  in  our 
epistle  for  to-day,  when  alluding  to  this 
transaction,  that  the  people  lusted  after 
"  evil  things  j"  but  this  is  clearly  a  figure 


of  speech ;  he  means  that  their  lust  waa 
evil,  not  the  things  which  were  the  objects 
of  it.  Wherein  then  did  its  sinfulness  lie? 
In  the  twentieth  verse,  God  tells  us.  He 
pronounces  it  a  contempt  of  himself.  Moses 
is  commanded  to  go  to  the  weeping  people, 
and  say  to  them,  "  Ye  have  despised  the 
Lord  which  is  among  you."  And  how 
had  they  despised  him  ?     In  three  respects. 

They  had  low  thoughts  of  his  jiower. 
"  Who,"  they  asked,  "shall  give  us  flesh 
to  eat  ?"  Who  can  give  it  ?  The  psalmist 
represents  them  as  openly  questioning  God's 
ability  to  give  it ;  "Can  God  furnish  a  table 
in  the  wilderness  ?  Behold,  he  smote  the 
rock  that  the  water  gushed  out  and  ♦he 
streams  overflowed ;  can  he  give  bre^d 
also?  can  he  provide  flesh  for  his  people  ?" 

And  their  conduct  involved  in  it  a  making 
Ughi  of  his  goodness.  They  had  evidently 
lost  sight  at  this  time  of  all  he  had  done 
for  them,  or  if  not  so,  they  lightly  esteemed 
what  he  had  done.  Their  deliverance  from 
Egypt,  the  water  from  the  rock,  the  manna 
from  the  skies,  the  cloudy  pillar  lighting 
them  b}^  night  and  shading  them  by  day — 
all  are  as  nothing,  and  this  only  because 
they  have  not  flesh  to  eat.  That  one  want 
makes  them  insensible  to  every  mercy. 

And  then  there  was  also  here  a  despising 
of  God's  authority.  He  had  not  given  them 
flesh  ;  it  was  not  his  will  to  give  it  them  ; 
their  restless  desire  for  it  was,  therefore,  a 
quarrelling  with  his  will  ;  a  repining  at 
him,  because  he  dealt  with  them  according 
to  his  good  pleasure,  and  not  according  to 
their  own. 

And  heroin  lies  our  guilt  in  many  of  our 
fondly  indulged  wishes.  We  say,  "  What 
harm  is  there  in  them  ?"  We  are  ready 
to  account  it  a  small  matter  to  be  dissatis- 
fied with  what  we  have,  and  to  be  longing 
day  after  day  for  that  we  have  not ;  but 
see  here  what  God  deems  this  thing,  and 
what  this  thing  really  is — it  is  a  limiting 
of  God's  power,  as  though  he  could  not 
make  us  happy  without  the  aid  of  this  or 
that  earthly  good.  It  is  a  contemptuous 
undervaluing  of  his  goodness  towards  us. 
It  includes  ingratitude,  but  it  is  more  than 
ingratitude,  and  worse.  That  is  thankless 
ibr  mercies  ;  this  despises  them.  That 
eats  the  manna  and  gives  not  God  thanks  ; 
this  tramples  on  the  manna  and  says,  "  It 
is  not  worth  the  eating."  What  contempt 
is  there  expressed  in  that  speech  of  these 
Israelites,  "  There  is  nothing  at  all  besidt 


THE  ISRAELITES  DESIRING  FLESH  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


207 


nis  manna  before  our  eyes !"  and  Iiow 
naturally  does  it  seem  to  echo  many 
speeches  which  we  liave  made  !  With  our 
cup  well  nigh  running  over  with  mercies, 
we  have  spoken  of  God's  bounty  towards 
us  as  though  it  were  a  petty,  scanty  bounty, 
and  his  love  a  pretence. 

And  this  discontent  treats  the  sovereignty 
of  God  also  in  the  same  despiteful  manner, 
condemning  him  as  a  ruler  as  well  as  a 
benefactor.  He  says  that  he  is  the  Dispo- 
ser of  all  things  ;  that  all  things  in  heaven 
and  earth  are  his  ;  that  he  is  warranted  to 
do  with  all  things  whatsoever  he  pleases, 
to  give  them,  or  withhold  them,  or  lake 
them  away,  as  seems  to  him  good.  But 
"  No,"  says  the  craving,  dissatisfied  soul, 
"  I  ought  to  have  what  I  long  for.  I  have 
a  right  to  it.  I  have  a  claim  upon  it.  If 
it  is  not  given  me,  I  am  injured.  It  is  not 
God's,  it  is  mine."  O  brethren,  little  do 
we  think  how  much  sin  some  workings  of 
our  minds  contain  ;  how  much  guilt  may 
^be  heaped  up  in  only  one  cherislied  lust ! 
Desires  and  feelings  which  we  deem  harm- 
less, or  at  the  worst  not  quite  right,  he 
deems  all  black  together,  aggravated  sins, 
a  setting  of  him  at  naught,  nothing  short  of 
rebellion  against  him.  And  as  such  he 
treats  them.  The  havoc  which  these  things 
make  in  the  soul,  the  happiness  they  destroy 
and  tlie  misery  they  inflict,  do  not  satisfy 
his  righteous  anger — all  this  might  seem 
their  own  natural,  unaided  work — he  often 
adds  something  that  we  are  constrained  to 
see  to  be  his  work.  There  comes  a  punish- 
ment that  declares  and  makes  visible  his 
displeasure.  Tears  and  wretchedness  were 
not  the  only  fruits  of  Israel's  sin  at  this 
time. 

II.  Look  at  ilie  conduct  of  their  insulted 
God  towards  them  in  consequence  of  their 
sin. 

I.  He  granted  their  desire.  We  are 
told  again  and  again  that  it  displeased  him, 
that  his  anger  was  kindled  greatly  against 
the  people  on  account  of  it  ;  but  how  does 
he  show  his  displeasure  and  anger?  He 
begins  with  giving  them  the  very  thing 
.hey  wish  for  ;  he  works  a  miracle  to  give 
it  them  ;  he  gives  it  them  to  the  utmost  ex- 
tent of  their  desires,  and  beyond  them. 
"  There  went  forth  a  word  from  the  Lord, 
and  brought  quails  from  the  sea,  and  let 
thorn  fall  by  the  camp  as  it  were  a  day'3 
journey  on  this  side,  and  as  it  were  a  day's 
journey  on  the  other  side,  round  about    he 


camp,  and  as  it  were  two  cubits  high  upon 
tlie  face  of  the  earth."  The  ground  was 
covered  for  miles  around,  and  everywhere 
more  than  a  yard  in  depth,  with  the  flesh 
they  hungered  for.  What  wonder  as  well 
as  joy  must  have  filled  that  weeping  camp 
at  the  sight ! — the  very  thing  they  longed 
for  but  despaired  of  obtaining,  brought  home 
to  their  doors,  become  theirs  M'ithout  money 
or  price  or  pains  or  labor,  and  so  much  of 
it  theirs  that  they  could  not  consume  the 
half  of  it !  And  it  is  sent  them  too  by  their 
God.  It  comes  to  them  like  a  token  of  his 
favor  and  tenderness.  If  they  had  one 
right  feeling  towards  him  within  them,  how 
must  they  have  exulted,  as  they  looked 
around  them,  in  his  seeming  love  towards 
them  ! 

But  what  was  God  really  doing  all  this 
while  ?  He  was  only  vindicating  his 
aspersed  honor.  They  had  insulted  him 
by  limiting  his  power  ;  they  had  openly 
challenged  him  to  perform  a  work  which 
they  declared  to  be  beyond  him  ;  he  sends 
forth  his  word,  and  the  work  is  done.  As 
for  his  love  towards  them,  it  was  not  now 
in  his  thoughts  ;  at  least,  it  had  nothing  to 
do  with  this  wonderful  plenty.  He  gave  it 
them  in  his  wrath. 

And  nothing  can  we  know  of  the  favor 
of  God  towards  us  by  any  of  the  temporal 
gifts  he  bestows  on  us.  We  say  of  be- 
reavements and  disappointments,  "  These 
are  judgments  :  my  God  is  angry  with  me, 
and  is  punishing  me."  We  say  of  grati- 
fied desires,  of  earthly  success  and  abun- 
dance, "  All  is  now  well :  heaven  is  smi- 
ling on  me."  But  look  here.  This  his- 
tory discovers  to  us  that  God  can  give  in 
his  displeasure.  "  Israel,"  says  the  psalm- 
ist, "  provoked  the  Most  High  in  the  Avil- 
derness."  He  dwells  on  the  greatness  of 
his  anger  against  them.  "  The  Lord  heard 
them  and  was  wroth,"  he  adds  ;  "  a  fire 
was  kindled  against  Jacob,  and  anger  came 
up  against  Israel."  And  what  was  the 
result  ?  "  He  gave  them  their  own  desire  ; 
they  were  not  disappointed  of  their  lust." 
It  was  the  same  afterwards.  They  wanted 
a  king.  "  I  gave  them,"  says  God,  "  a 
king  in  mine  anger."  The  truth  is,  God 
is  just  as  wonderful  in  punishing  as  he  is 
in  blessing.  His  ways  of  wrath  are  as 
mysterious  as  his  ways  of  mercy.  He  fre- 
quently blesses  us  by  thwarting  our  fond- 
est wishes,  and  he  sometimes  most  fearfully 
punishes  us  by  granting  them.     Covet  only 


208 


THE  ISRAELITES  DESIRING  FLESH  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 


spiritual  gifts,  brethren,  a  broken  heart,  a  I 
contrite  spirit,  communion  with  Ciirist,  joy 
in  the  Holy  Ghost,  a  pure  and  heavenly 
mind.  These  will  never  deceive  or  injure 
you.  God  never  gave  one  of  them  to  one 
of  his  enemies.  But  as  for  his  other  gifts, 
houses  and  lands,  money  and  honors,  chil- 
dren and  friends — he  will  give  them  to  any 
one,  and  sometimes  he  bestows  them  the 
most  abundantly  where  he  is  the  most  dis- 
pleased ;  he  heaps  them  on  his  enemies, 
till  men  wonder  for  a  time  at  their  pros- 
perity, and  then  at  last  wonder  at  their  ruin. 
Turn  again  to  the  chapter. 

2.  The  Lord  took  vengeance  on  these  Is- 
raelites, and  this  in  a  fearful  manner  and 
at  a  very  remarkable  time. 

It  is  often  the  will  of  God  to  make  our 
sin  our  punishment.  We  eagerly  crave 
something  ;  he  gives  us  what  we  crave, 
and  when  we  have  it,  he  either  takes  away 
from  us  all  our  delight  in  it,  and  so  bitterly 
disappoints  us,  or  else  he  causes  it  to  prove 
to  us  a  source  of  misery.  And  thus  he 
might  have  acted  now.  Indeed,  if  we  refer 
to  the  eighteenth  verse,  we  are  ready  to 
think  that  thus  he  is  going  to  act.  "  The 
Lord  will  give  you  flesh,"  Moses  is  to  say, 
"  and  ye  shall  eat.  Ye  shall  not  eat  one 
day,  nor  two  days,  nor  five  days,  neither 
ten  days,  nor  twenty  days,  but  even  a  whole 
month,  until  it  come  out  at  your  nostrils 
and  it  be  loathsome  unto  you."  Disgust, 
we  say,  is  to  follow  enjoyment,  and  then 
perhaps  disease  will  come,  and  death.  But 
it  was  not  so.  Provoked,  it  may  be,  by 
their  intemperate  indulgence  in  the  food  he 
had  sent  them,  the  Lord  resolves  to  make 
at  once  a  signal  display  of  his  indignation 
against  these  men.  The  quails  shall  not 
destroy  them,  he  himself  will  destroy  them. 
"  He  smites  the  people,"  smites  them  as  it 
were  with  his  own  hand,  sending  "  a  very 
great  plague  among  them,"  and  thus  des- 
olating their  camp  and  overthrowing  many 
of  them  forever.  And  he  did  this  at  a  re- 
markable time  ;  "  While  tlie  flesh  was  yet 
in  their  mouth,  ere  it  was  chewed,  the 
wrath  of  the  Lord  was  kindled  against  the 
people,  and  the  Lord  smote  the  people." 

Sometimes  God  takes  our  abundance 
from  us.  He  allows  us  to  grasp  the  object 
we  have  been  toiling  for,  and  just  as  we 
grasp  it,  it  goes.  At  other  times  he  acts 
more  fearfully  towards  sinners — he  takes 
them  from  their  abundance.  His  patience 
seems  to  last  out  till  their  desire  is  accom- 


plished, and  then  leaves  them  fon'ver. 
"  Soul,  take  thine  ease,"  has  been  the  Ian- 
guage  of  thousands  in  the  morning  ;  God 
has  answered  tliem  in  the  evening,  and 
said,  "  Thou  fool,  this  night  tliy  soul  shall 
be  required.''  Israel  smitten  in  the  wil- 
derness with  the  flesh  between  their  teeth, 
is  a  mournful  spectacle,  a  fearful  specta- 
cle ;  but  it  is  one  of  a  common  kind.  Men 
are  every  day  falling  into  their  graves  at 
the  moment  when  they  are  saying,  "  Now 
at  last  we  will  begin  to  live."  O  who  can 
tell  whether  some  of  us  may  not  thus  fall 
into  ours  ?  If  we  have  idols,  in  some  way 
or  other  a  separation  must  be  made  be- 
tween us  and  them,  and  this  may  be  the 
way  in  which  it  may  please  a  holy  God  to 
make  it.  He  seems  to  promise  the  world- 
ly-minded man  such  an  end  as  this.  Turn 
to  the  twentieth  chapter  of  Job.  It  sounds 
like  a  commentary  on  this  history.  "  The 
triumphing  of  the  wicked  is  short,  and  tha 
joy  of  the  hypocrite  is  but  for  a  moment. 
In  the  fulness  of  his  sufficiency  he  shall  be 
in  straits.  When  he  is  about  to  fill  his 
belly,  God  shall  cast  the  fury  of  his  wrath 
upon  him,  and  shall  rain  it  upon  him  while 
he  is  eating." 

The  main  lesson  we  are  to  learn  from 
all  we  have  now  heard,  is  not  that  perhaps 
which  will  most  readily  occur  to  some  of 
us — our  need  of  God's  forbearance  every 
hour  we  live,  and  his  forgiving  mercy,  and 
the  cleansing  blood  of  his  dear  Son  ;  it  is 
rather  this — our  need  of  constant  self-de- 
nial. 

We  have  seen  how  much  sin  one  cher- 
ished desire  of  man's  depraved  heart  may 
contain,  how  much  misery  it  may  bring  on, 
and  in  what  an  awful  end  it  sometimes  ter- 
minates. I  do  not  mean  that  its  end  is  in 
every  case  the  utter  ruin  of  the  soul.  This 
in  every  case  is  its  tendency.  Hither,  if 
let  alone,  it  will  inevitably  come.  "  When 
lust  hath  conceived,  it  bringeth  forth  sin  ; 
and  sin,  when  it  is  finished,  bringeth  forth 
death" — that  is  the  scriptural  account  of 
the  matter.  But  the  God  of  all  grace 
sometimes  stops  this  lust  in  its  course. 
Never  however  does  he  stop  it,  even  in  the 
man  he  loves  the  most,  till  he  has  made  it, 
in  some  way  or  other,  a  scourge  and  tor- 
ment to  him.  The  soul  in  no  instance  es- 
capes unwounded  from  an  entanglement 
of  its  aflections  by  an  earthly  object.  It 
is  only  by  the  interposition  of  Christ's  spe- 
cial grace,  that  it  escapes  at  all.     And  its 


MARY  ANOINTING  CHRIST. 


209 


wounds  do  not  ahvays  soon  heal.  Per- 
haps they  are  rankling  for  years  after,  and 
there  is  generally  a  disfigurement  and  scar 
left.  It  was  then  no  arbitrary  dictate  of 
liis  will,  that  led  our  Lord  to  say,  "  If  any 
man  w  ill  come  after  me,  let  him  deny 
himself."  He  was  looking  at  your  heart 
and  mine,  brethren,  when  he  said  this  ;  and 
he  saw  that  in  the  very  nature  of  things, 
we  could  not  follow  him  or  even  belong  to 
him,  if  these  hearts  had  their  bent.  There 
is  not  naturally  a  single  desire  within  them, 
which  is  not  in  some  way  sinful  or  may  not 
become  so.  There  is  not  one  that  we  must 
not  be  made  willing  to  sacrifice  in  follow- 
ing a  holy  Saviour  to  a  holy  world.  A 
self-willed,  self-indulgent  Christian  is  not  to 
be  found  on  the  earth ;  such  a  Christian 
never  will  and  never  can  be  found  on  it. 
Self-gratification  is  no  gospel-blessing  ; 
nay,  it  runs  counter  to  every  gospel-bless- 
ing. We  must  not  expect  it  or  even  wish 
for  it  on  earth  ;  we  must  wait  for  it  till 
we  wake  up  in  heaven.  There  indeed  our 
desires  may  roam  as  they  will,  settle  where 
they  please,  and  go  forth  as  intensely  as 
they  can,  for  all  within  us  there  will  be 
pure  and  holy,  all  moving  in  a  blessed  con- 
formity to  the  divine  will  ;  but  here,  liberty 
for  our  hearts  is  misery  for  our  hearts,  yea,  it 
is  ruin  and  death  for  us.  We  must  bridle 
our  desires  as  we  would  bridle  the  wild 
horse  of  the  desert,  who  wants  to  bear  us 
away  to  his  native  wilderness,  and  we 
must  fetter  them  as  we  would  fetter  the 
untamed  tiger  or  wolf.  And  even  then 
they  will  destroy  us,  unless  a  mighty  Spirit 
also  bridles  and  fetters  them.  Self-denial 
is  our  duty,  but  it  is  not  our  safety,  and 
mu.st  not  be  our  hope.  We  may  set  about 
crucifying  "  the  flesh  with  its  affections 
and  lusts,"  but  if  we  expect  to  bind  and 
slay  this  vile  thing  by  our  own  power,  we 
might  almost  as  well  leave  it  to  itself. 
None  can  destroy  sin  in  us,  but  Christ  the 
great  Saviour  from  sin.  The  work  is  his, 
and  when  we  feel  that  it  is  his,  and  implore 
him  to  do  it,  the  work  is  done.  We  give 
him  the  glory,  and  he  gives  us  the  victory. 
"Sin,"  he  then  says,  "shall  not  have  do- 
minion over  you.  Walk  in  the  Spirit,  and 
ye  shall  not  fulfil  the  lust  of  the  flesh." 


27 


SERMON  XLIV. 

THE    TE.NTH    SUNDAY    AFTER    TRINITY. 
MARY  ANOINTING  CHRIST. 

St.  j\I.\iiK  XIV.  8,  9. — "  She  hath  done  what  she 
r.nuld  ;  she  is  come  afurehand  to  anoint  my  body 
to  the  burying.  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  where- 
soever this  gospel  shall  he  preached  throughout 
the  whole  world,  this  also  that  she  hath  done, 
shall  be  spoken  of  for  a  memorial  of  her." 

Who  was  this  happy  woman  ?  we  ask  ; 
and  what  had  she  done  to  be  thus  com- 
mended and  honored  ?  We  turn  to  the 
chapter,  but  her  name  is  not  mentioned  in 
it.  The  Holy  Spirit  however  has  taken 
care  that  it  shall  not  be  forgotten.  St.  John 
tells  us  twice  over  that  it  was  Mary,  the 
sister  of  Lazarus.  Tiie  event  itself  occur- 
red at  Bethany,  her  own  village,  soon  after 
the  resurrection  of  Lazarus.  We  will 
consider,  first,  what  she  is  said  to  have 
done  ;  then,  the  probable  motives  of  her 
conduct ;  next,  the  judgment  which  mea 
passed  on  it ;  and,  lastly,  the  notice  take» 
of  it  by  the  Lord  Jesus.  And  may  that 
eternal  Spirit  who  mercifully  wrote  this 
scripture  for  our  instruction,  now  instruct 
us  by  it ! 

I.  What  Mary  did  was  simply  this.  An 
inhabitant  of  Bethany,  named  Simon,  a 
friend  probably  of  Lazarus,  made  a  supper 
or  entertainment  for  our  Lord.  To  this,  as 
appears  from  St.  John's  account,  Lazarus 
and  his  sisters  were  invited.  Martha,  like 
herself,  instead  of  sitting  down  with  the 
other  guests  at  the  table,  "  served"  or  wait- 
ed on  tiiem — that  was  her  "way  of  showing 
her  love  for  Chri.st,  and  the  honor  in  which 
she  held  him.  Mary  chose  another  way. 
While  the  entertainment  was  going  on,  she 
approaches  our  Lord,  stands  beside  him  as 
he  sat,  and  breaking  a  box  of  ointment  or 
oil,  first  pours  it  on  his  head,  and  then 
kneeling  or  falling  down  before  him,  anoints 
his  feet  with  it,  and,  like  another  woman 
on  another  occasion,  wipes  them  with  her 
hair. 

It  may  seem  a  trifling  circumstance  to 
mention,  but  yet  whatever  puts  the  stamp 
of  verity  on  this  holy  book  or  on  any  part 
of  it,  is  not  really  trifling — there  is  anoint- 
ment still  known  in  tiie  east  answering  ex- 
actly to  the  description  the  evangelists  give 
us  of  this.  They  say  it  was  "  spikenard," 
"  very  costly,"  and  so  fragrant,  that  Si- 
mon's "  house  was  filled  with  the  odor  of 


210 


.AIARY  ANOINTING  CHRIST. 


it."  Now  the  ointment  I  refer  to,  still  bears 
this  name  ;  it  is  one  of  the  dearest  of  all 
the  precious  oils  of  the  east,  rendered  so  by 
the  difficulty  with  which  the  grass  it  is  pre- 
pared from,  is  obtained  ;  and  its  fragrance 
is  so  penetrating,  that  even  when  brought 
into  our  climate,  a  few  drops  of  it  will 
fill  with  their  grateful  odor  the  largest 
room. 

This  then  was  the  oil  which  Mary  chose 
wherewith  to  anoint  her  Lord,  and  this 
anointing  of  him  was  the  way  she  took  to 
express  her  love  to  him.  He  says  of  her, 
"  She  hath  done  what  she  could  ;"  that  is, 
she  could  not  have  done  more  ;  she  has 
gone  in  this  act  of  hers  to  the  very  extent  of 
her  resources  and  power.  And  this  is  the 
bound,  brethren,  to  which  the  Lord  Jesus 
would  have  all  his  disciples  go  in  the  ser- 
vice they  render  him,  and  the  sacrifices 
they  make  for  him.  We  are  not  to  look 
around  us  and  say,  "  What  are  our  neigh- 
bors doing,  those  among  them  who  seem  to 
love  Christ  the  most?  If  we  do  as  much 
as  they,  it  will  be  enough."  We  are  to 
look  at  our  own  capabilities  and  opportuni- 
ties;  the  talents,  powers,  means  of  useful- 
ness, God  has  given  us  ;  and  there,  each 
one  of  us  is  to  say,  is  the  measure  of  my 
'duty  and  the  bound  of  my  service.  I  am 
to  do  what  I  can.  If  the  Lord  has  given 
me  large  means  of  honoring  him,  he  looks 
for  a  large  return  of  honor  from  me.  If  he 
has  intrusted  me  with  smaller  means,  he 
will  be  satisfied  with  less.  It  may  be  that 
I  cannot  cast  in  much  into  his  treasury  ; 
I  have  it  not  to  cast ;  but  I  have  these  two 
■mites — there  let  them  go. 

This  standard  for  our  service  is,  you  per- 
ceive, at  once  stimulating  and  encouraging. 
It  is  stimulating,  for  we  are  never  to  think 
we  have  done  enough,  while  there  is  any 
thing  more  we  can  do  ;  and  *t  is  encour- 
aging, for  it  tells  us  that  though  we  can 
do  but  little,  that  little  will  be  accepted, 
nay,  considered  by  our  gracious  Master 
as  enough.  We  are  not  to  condemn  our- 
selves or  to  repine,  because  we  can  do  no 
more. 

But  something  else  must  be  noticed  here 
— Mary  did  more  than  she  was  aware  of 
doing. , 

It  is  an  affecting  circumstance,  brethren, 
that  wherever  our  Lord  was  and  however 
engaged,  his  death  seems  to  have  been  al- 
ways in  his  mind.  It  was  in  his  i-nind  here 
at  a  social  meal,  and  what  wc  should  have 


called  a  happy  one,  with  those  he  loved  the 
very  best  on  the  earth  around  him,  and 
with  the  love  of  some  of  them  towards  him 
in  the  liveliest  exercise.  Lazarus,  brought 
out  of  his  grave  by  him,  is  seated  by  his 
side,  Martha  is  waiting  on  him,  Mary  comes 
and  anoints  him.  But  his  thoughts  are 
even  now,  in  this  scene  of  holy  love  and 
happiness,  at  Gethsemane  and  Gclgotha ; 
he  is  thinking  of  his  cross  and  grave.  Ma- 
ry's oil  flows  down  on  his  sacred  person. 
"She  is  come  aforehand,"  he  says,  "to 
anoint  my  body  to  the  burying.  I  am  go- 
ing to  die,  and  she  by  this  act  of  hers  has 
silently  told  you  all  so,  and,  in  the  eager- 
ness of  her  love,  has  prepared  my  body  for 
the  tomb  before  I  am  dead."  Now  we 
cannot  conceive  that  any  thing  like  this 
was  in  Mary's  intention.  Our  Lord  puts 
a  construction  on  her  act  which  she 
never  contemplated,  and  makes  it  an- 
swer a  purpose  of  which  she  had  not 
once  thought.  He  turns  it  into  an  an- 
nouncement to  all  around  him  of  his  ap- 
proaching death. 

It  is  a  cheering  truth,  brethren,  that  we 
can  never  measure  the  use  to  which  a  gra- 
cious Saviour  may  turn  our  poor  doings. 
As  his  designs  in  our  afflictions  often  lie 
deeper  than  we  can  penetrate,  so  do  his  de- 
signs in  tlie  services  to  which  he  prompts 
us.  We  do  this  and  we  do  that,  and  we 
mourn  that  it  is  so  little,  and  that  so  little 
good  to  our  fellow-men  and  so  little  honor 
to  our  God  will  come  from  it ;  but  we  know 
not  what  will  come  from  it.  That  little 
thing  is  in  the  hand  of  a  great,  omnipotent 
God,  and  his  mighty  arm  can  bend  and  turn 
it  we  know  not  how  or  whither. 

II.  We  must  now  ask  what  Mary\s  real 
motives  probably  were  in  this  extraordinary 
act. 

The  strongest  of  them  perhaps  was  a 
feeling  of  grateful  love  for  her  blessed  Lord. 
He  had  just  raised  her  brother  from  the 
dead  ;  had  just  shown  a  sympathy  and  af- 
fection for  herself  and  Martha,  which  might 
well  astonish  her  ;  had  put  an  honor  on  her 
family  she  must  have  felt  to  be  surpassingly 
great.  "  Thank  him,"  she  perhaps  said 
within  herself,  "  I  could  not  when  Lazarus 
came  forth.  I  cannot  now.  My  tongue 
will  not  move,  and  if  it  could,  words  are 
too  poor  to  thank  him.  But  what  can  I  do  ? 
Kings  and  great  men  are  sometimes  anoint- 
ed  at  their  splendid  banquets.  My  Lord  is 
to  be  at  Simon's  feast.     I  will  go  and  buy 


MARY  ANOINTING  CHRIST. 


•21 


the  most  precious  ointment  Jerusalem  af- 
fords, and  at  that  feast  I  will  anoint  him. 
It  will  be  nothing  to  him,  but  if  he  will  suf- 
fer it,  it  will  be  much  to  me.  My  heart  is 
ready  to  burst  with  thankfulness  and  love 
to  him,  and  this  will  be  a  relief  and  joy  to 
it." 

You  remember,  brethren,  the  other  wo- 
man who  anointed  Jesus.  She  had  been  a 
sinner,  an  open,  flagrant  one.  It  was  a 
sense  of  pardoning  mercy,  which  prompted 
her  in  what  she  did.  "She  loved  much," 
we  are  told,  "  for  much  had  been  forgiven 
ner."  Mary  too  was  a  sinner,  though  not 
of  the  same  class ;  and  she  doubtless  felt 
her  sinfulness,  and  loved  her  Lord  for  par- 
doning it  ;  but  no  mention  is  made  here  of 
this.  It  seems  to  have  been  mainly  thank- 
fulness for  what  we  call  a  temporal  mercy, 
that  prompted  her  to  this  beautiful  act ;  a 
heart  warm  with  gratitude  for  a  restored 
brother,  and  for  compassion  shown  her 
while  he  was  dead.  Shall  I  tell  any  of  you 
of  the  mercies  wherewith  the  Lord  has 
called  loudly  on  you  for  your  gratitude  and 
service?  It  is  no  Christianity  at  all,  that 
does  not  make  us  deeply  thankful  for  that 
greatest  of  all  blessings,  the  pardon  of  a 
guilty  soul ;  but  it  is  a  poor  Christianity, 
poor  in  the  extreme,  which  leaves  a  man's 
soul  thankless  for  other  blessings.  Rela- 
tives spared,  health  restored,  afflictions  re- 
moved, comforts  sent  us  in  affliction,  the 
Lord's  presence  with  us  then,  and  gladness 
poured  into  our  sorrowful  hearts  then  by  his 
rigiit  hand — can  you  see  such  things  as 
these  in  your  past  history,  brethren  ?  Then 
if  you  really  love  your  Lord,  you  must  say 
as  you  see  them,  more  than  "  The  Lord  be 
praised" — you  must  say,  "  The  Lord  must 
have  something  from  me  for  these  benefits. 
What  return  have  I  made  him  ?     What  re- 


turn  can  I 


hit 


O    make  him 


some  return,  brethren,  and  make  it  at 
once.  Go  and  buy  the  ointment,  or  if  you 
cannot  do  that,  cast  in  the  two  mites.  Do 
something  to  show  that  you  are  thankful 
for  blessings,  though  that  something  be  but 
little. 

Mary  was  probably  influenced  also  by 
another  motive — a  desire  to  put.  honor  on 
Christ. 

The  Jews  had  lately  driven  him  from 
Jerusalem.  He  had  come  back  to  it,  as  far 
at  least  as  to  Bethany,  and  raised  her  bro- 
ther. We  might  iiave  thought  this  stupen- 
dous miracle  would  have  made  them  all  be- 


lievers in  him,  or  at  least  appalled  them 
into  quietness  ;  but  not  so — it  only  enraged 
them  the  more.  St.  John  says,  "  From  that 
(lay  forth  they  took  counsel  together  against 
Jesus  for  to  put  him  to  death."  Once  more 
our  Lord  withdrew  from  them  into  tiie  wil- 
derness ;  but  now  after  a  little  he  is  re- 
turned. In  what  situation  then  does  he  now 
stand  ?  In  that  of  a  hated,  persecuted,  pro- 
scribed man,  driven  hither  and  thither, 
every  one  forbidden  to  conceal, him,  and  no 
one  daring  to  show  him  the  least  kindness 
or  respect  but  at  his  own  risk.  Mary's 
soul  must  have  been  more  than  pained,  it 
must  have  been  indignant  at  this.  "  Let 
others  hate  him  and  spurn  him,"  she  must 
have  said,  "  O  for  some  opportunity  of 
showing  how  I  honor  him  !  Hero  is  Si- 
mon's feast  at  hand,  and  if  I  buy  the  oint- 
ment, I  shall  not  only  indulge  my  love  for 
him — there  will  be  many  spectators  present 
— I  shall  let  men  see  that  there  is  one  at 
least  on  the  earth  who  honors  him  ;  one 
who  thinks  him  worthy  of  more  than  all  the 
lionor  she  can  ever  pay  him."  And  then 
this  retiring,  shrinking,  we  might  almost 
say  from  her  general  character,  this  timid 
Mary,  comes  forward,  and  in  a  public  room 
stands  up  with  her  precious  oil,  breaks  her 
box,  and  with  a  modest  but  fearless  hand 
anoints  her  Lord.  I  say,  "  a  public  room," 
for  in  that  country  persons  of  all  classes 
freely  come  in  and  out  where  others  are 
eating,  uninvited  and  unrebuked. 

It  is  an  easy  thing,  brethren,  to  honor 
Christ  when  others  are  honoring  him,  to 
show  respect  to  him,  his  gospel  and  peo- 
ple, wlicn  it  is  reputable  and  safe  to  show 
it ;  to  cry  "  Hosanna,"  when  the  multi- 
tude  is  shouting  it;  but  real  love  for  Christ 
makes  nothing  of  this.  It  delights  to  honor 
him  when  none  others  will.  It  will  come 
forward,  and  perhaps  for  the  first  time 
when  others  shrink  back.  "You  will  be 
censured  and  scolFed  at,"  men  say,  "  if  you 
dothisor  that  now  ;  no  one  does  it."  "For 
that  very  reason,"  real  love  answers,  "I 
will  do  it.  I  would  not  willingly  incur  the 
reproach  of  my  fellow-men,  but  if  honoring 
my  glorious  J^ord  incurs  it,  I  can  bear  it. 
Were  others  around  me  honoring  him,  my 
cold,  selfish  heart  might  be  quiet  ;  but  when 
I  sec  him,  his  servants  and  his  gospel,  hated 
and  vilified,  and  scorned,  it  will  not  h^i 
quiet.  I  care  not  what  I  risk,  nor  what  I 
lose,  nor  what  I  sufler,  so  that  I  may  ia 
some  way  show  I  really  honor  the  great 


212 


MARY  ANOINTING  CHRIST. 


Giver  of  all  my  blessings,  ".he  great  Saviour 
of  my  guilty  soul." 

111.  Let  us  now  come  to  the.  judgment  men 
passed  on  Mary's  conduct.  They  censured 
it  and  strongly.  "  There  were  some  that 
had  indignation  within  themselves,  and  said, 
Why  was  this  waste  of  the  ointment  made  ? 
for  it  might  have  been  sold  for  more  than 
three  hundred  pence,  and  given  to  the  poor. 
And  they  murmured  against  her."  Here 
is  human  nature,  brethren,  in  almost  every 
word,  and  human  nature  as  we  may  see  it 
in  common  life  almost  every  day. 

Men  are  generally  made  angry  by  any 
act  of  love  for  Christ,  which  rises  above 
their  own  standard,  above  their  own  ideas 
of  the  love  which  is  due  to  him,  and  their 
own  mode  of  showing  it.  They  will  pro- 
fess perhaps  to  admire  such  an  act  when  it 
is  done  at  a  distance  from  them  or  by  some 
one  out  of  their  own  sphere  ;  but  let  it  be 
done  close  to  them,  by  one  like  themselves, 
they  will  too  often  be  displeased. 

They  can  generally  too  find  something 
in  the  warm-hearted  Christian's  conduct  to 
give  a  color  to  their  displeasure.  "Why 
was  this  waste  of  the  ointment  made?"  It 
was  a  plausible  que.stion  ;  it  seemed  a  rea- 
sonable one.  The  ointment  must  have  cost 
Mary  much ;  in  our  money,  nearly  ten 
pounds.  "  Why  then,"  it  might  be  said, 
"  throw  so  large  a  sum  thus  idly  away  ? 
Here  is  folly  and  worse  than  folly,  here  is 
ostentation,  or  if  not  that,  here  is  culpable 
extravagance  and  waste." 

And  observe  too — men  can  generally 
assign  some  good  motive  in  themselves  for 
the  censure  they  pass  on  others.  "  This 
ointment  might  have  been  sold  for  more 
than  three  hundred  pence,  and  given  to  the 
poor."  Here  is  a  regard  for  the  poor  made 
the  ostensible  ground  for  murmuring  and 
indignation.  "The  poor  have  been  robbed, 
and  with  so  much  distress  around  us,  we 
cannot  bear  to  see  it." 

And  mark  also,  Christ's  real  disciples 
will  sometimes  join  with  others  in  censuring 
the  zealous  Christian.  "  There  were  some 
that  had  indignation,"  this  evangelist  says 
— some  of  the  spectators,  we  think,  unbe- 
lieving, prejudiced  Jews  ;  but  we  turn  to 
St.  Matthew,  and  he  says,  "  When  his 
disciples  saw  it,  they  had  indignation." 
"  What,"  we  may  ask,  "  the  men  who 
had  forsaken  all  for  Christ  ?  the  fervent 
Peter,  the  loving,  affectionate  John."  Yes  ; 
these  very  men.     Without  supposing  that 


the  disciples  felt  their  own  love  for  Christ 
eclipsed  by  Mary's,  and  themselves  cast  by 
it  into  the  shade,  and  were,  therefore,  angry, 
we  may  say  there  is  a  too  common  dis- 
position in  really  good  men  to  fall  thought- 
lessly in  with  the  feelings  which  prevail 
around  them  ;  to  entertain  and  express  un- 
charitable opinions  of  a  Christian  brother 
solely  because  others  entertain  and  express 
them.  Guard  against  this  propensity,  breth- 
ren. Either  censure  not  at  all,  or  think 
before  you  censure  ;  inquire,  understand, 
before  you  condemn. 

But  yet  again — the  censures  passed  on 
the  servant  of  Christ  often  have  their  origin 
in  some  one  hypocritical,  bad  man.  Who 
began  this  cavilling,  this  murmuring  against 
Mary  ?  We  turn  to  St.  John's  gospel,  and 
he  tells  us  it  was  Judas,  Judas  Iscariot,  the 
betrayer.  And  why  did  he  begin  it  1  His 
own  sordid,  selfish  feelings  prompted  him. 
He  talks  indeed  of  the  poor  and  his  concern 
for  them,  just  as  bad  men  in  our  days  will 
talk  of  any  thing  to  cloak  their  hypocrisy  ; 
but  "  he  did  not  care  for  the  poor,"  the 
evangelist  savs  ;  "he  was  a  thief,  and  had 
the  bag,  and  bare  what  was  put  therein  ;" 
and  there  is  the  explanation  of  the  whole. 
The  man  sold  his  Lord  a  kv/  days  after- 
wards for  little  more  than  three  pounds;  it 
was  no  wonder  then  that  he  was  angry  and 
quarrelsome  when  he  saw  thrice  that  sum 
lost  to  his  bag,  and  to  his  peculating,  dis- 
honest hands.  And  so  is  it  still  among  our- 
selves. Trace  to  their  source  the  bitter 
censures  with  which  many  a  faithful  Chris- 
tian is  for  a  time  assailed,  you  will  often 
find  it  in  the  secret,  unthought  of  baseness 
of  some  low,  hypocritical  man.  But  this 
is  a  dark  part  of  our  subject;  let  us  turn 
to  a  brighter. 

IV.  The  history  now  brings  before  us 
the  notice  our  Lord  took  of  this  woman's  con- 
duct. 

He,  first,  vindicated  it.  Others  censured, 
he  commended  it.  It  is  extravagance  and 
waste,  others  said.  No,  said  Clirist,  it  is  a 
good  work.  "  She  hath  wrought  a  good 
work  on  me." 

And  observe  how  he  vindicates  Mary — 
with  a  wonderful  gentleness  towards  those 
who  had  blamed  her.  As  we  read  this 
scripture,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  avoid 
feeling  indignant  at  the  hypocrisy  of  Judas 
and  the  meanness  of  the  other  disciples. 
Had  we  been  there,  wo  are  ready  to  say, 
and  had  known  the  truth,  with  what  indig- 


MARY  ANOINTING  CHRIST. 


213 


nation  would  we  have  rebuked  and  exposed 
them  all  !  But  look  at  our  Lord — not  one 
word  of  rebuke  comes  from  his  patient  lips. 
He  does  not  attack  one  of  them,  not  even 
Judas.  All  he  does  is  to  throw  his  shield 
over  Mary,  and  say,  "  Why  trouble  ye  her  ? 
Let  her  alone."  But  what  was  the  fact  ? 
These  men  would  have  withheld  from  him 
the  little  honor  Mary  had  shown  him  ;  they 
thought  it  too  much.  In  censuring  her, 
they  had  covertly  censured  him  for  allow- 
ing her  to  pour  the  ointment  on  him.  Yet 
where  is  his  displeasure  ?  where  is  his  vin- 
dication of  himself?  We  can  find  neither. 
All  he  says  amounts  to  this,  "  Mary  has 
done  well,  and  you  must  let  her  alone. 
You  may  not  understand  her  conduct,  but 
I  do — her  conduct  is  right.  You  think  she 
has  shown  me  too  much  love  and  honor.  I 
will  not  answer  that.  She  has  done  what 
she  could,  and  I  will  not  have  her  reproach- 
ed.    You  must  be  quiet." 

It  was  just  the  same  when  the  other  wo- 
man anointed  him  in  the  Pharisee's  house. 
The  Pharisee  censured  him  directly  for  al- 
lowing such  a  woman  to  touch  him.  '•  She 
is  a  sinner,"  he  said.  Our  Lord  passes  by 
altogether  the  censure  on  himself;  heap- 
pears  not  even  to  notice  it ;  but  he  vindi- 
cates immediately  the  woman  and  her  con- 
duct, as  though  he  could  not  bear  for  one 
moment  to  have  a  sinner  who  loves  him, 
assailed,  nor  an  act  of  grateful  love  from 
such  a  sinner,  condemned. 

The  practical  lesson  is,  brethren,  to  adore 
the  blessed  Jesus  for  taking  us  and  our  con- 
duct under  his  protection,  and  while  acting 
through  his  grace  as  he  would  have  us,  to 
feel  ourselves  safe,  and  more  than  safe,  in 
his  hands.  "  He  that  touchoth  you,"  he 
says,  "  toucheth  the  apple  of  my  eye  ;" 
and  with  such  an  assuranci^  as  this  from 
him,  we  may  be  well  content  to  let  men 
touch  us  as  they  will.  With  our  everlast- 
ing Lord  for  our  shield,  we  may  be  well 
content  to  let  every  weapon  of  our  own 
fall  from  our  hands,  even  those  weapons  of 
self-defence  which  a  Christian  may  some- 
times use,  but  which  he  will  use  less  and 
less  the  more  he  knows  of  his  fellow  men, 
and  the  more  he  knows  and  trusts  his  Lord. 

But  this  is  not  all — our  Lord  recompenses 
this  grateful  tcoinan,  as  well  as  vindicates 
her.  "Wheresoever,"  he  says,  "  this  gos- 
pel shall  be  preached  throughout  the  whole 
world,  this  also  that  she  hath  done,  shall  be 
spoken  of  for  a  memorial  of  her."     Mary 


had  never  looked  for  this  ;  she  could  never 
have  thouglit  of  it ;  and  to  what  does  she 
now  owe  it?  We  may  say,  to  the  self, 
denying  act  of  love  she  had  just  performed. 
But  we  look  at  the  history,  and  we  are  im- 
pelled to  say.  No  ;  she  owes  it  rather  to 
the  murmurings  and  liard  speeches  of  these 
cavilling  men.  What  is  it  that  is  prom- 
ised her  ?  It  is  honor  amongst  men,  the 
admiration  and  praise  of  the  whole  church 
of  Christ  throughout  all  ages  ;  it  comes  to 
her  as  a  recompense  for  man's  censure  and 
reproach — a  high  rewara,  but  yet  an  ap- 
propriate, suitable  one.  Our  Lord  had 
said  long  before,  "  Blessed  are  ye  when 
men  shall  revile  you,  and  persecute  you, 
and  shall  say  all  manner  of  evil  against 
you  falsely,  for  my  sake.  Rejoice  and  l)e 
exceeding  glad,  for  great  is  your  reward  in 
heaven;"  but  here  he  anticipates  this  ;  there 
is  a  reward  for  this  woman  on  the  earth, 
and  a  wide  and  large  one.  Gainsaying 
men  do  not  know  what  they  are  doing  when 
they  are  shooting  their  arrows,  even  their 
bitter  words,  against  Christ's  servants.  The 
arrow  strikes  and  perhaps,  wounds,  but  they 
are  drawing  down  a  blessing  from  heaven 
on  us  by  every  wound  they  inflict.  And 
Christ's  servants  themselves,  when  assailed 
by  such  men,  often  forget  what  they  are  do- 
ing. They  may  be  a  little  misrepresenting 
and  darkening  our  conduct,  but  can  we  not 
bear  this  ?  There  is  a  recompense  for  us 
for  every  false  word  they  utter,  and  either 
in  time  or  in  eternity,  we  shall  have  it.  Is 
there  any  one  here  who  for  Christ's  sake  is 
reproached  ?  Let  him  look  at  this  cen- 
sured woman  of  Bethany,  and  ask  himself 
what  her  feelings  were  when  this  gracious 
saying  of  her  Lord  first  reached  her  ears. 
Such  this  day  let  his  own  feelings  be. 

And  now,  turning  from  Mary  and  her 
conduct,  let  us  all  think  of  ourselves  and 
our  conduct.  What  have  we  done  for 
Christ  ?  done  from  grateful  love  to  him, 
from  a  desire  to  honor  him  ?  Some  of  us 
feel  that  we  could  scarcely  ask  ourselves 
a  more  humbling  question.  But  there 
may  be  othf^rs  who  can  ask  it,  and  yet  not 
be  in  the  least  humbled  by  it.  They  have 
done  their  best,  they  say  ;  not  all  they 
ought,  perhaps,  but,  like  Mary,  all  ihey 
could.  And  they  really  believe  this,  and 
are  willing  to  stake  the  salvation  of  their 
souls  on  it,  their  everlasting  destiny.  This 
is  fearful  ground,  brethren,  for  creatures 
like  you  and  me  to  take.     It  will  as  surely 


214 


A  SINNER  PRAYING  FOR  MERCY. 


sink  beneath  you  as  you  plant  a  foot  on  it. 
*'  We  have  clone  all  we  could,"  you  say. 
O  no,  beloved  brethren  ;  not  you,  nor  any 
one  of  all  the  millions  of  mankind.  What, 
have  vou  never  lost  a  single  opportunity 
of  honoring  Christ,  which  you  might  have 
embraced  ?  never  withheld  from  him  a 
single  offering  or  service  which  you  might 
have  rendered  him  ?  never  dishonored  him 
by  any  one  folly  or  sin  from  which  you 
could  have  kept  yourselves  free?  You 
feel  at  once  that  these  are  assertions  you 
dare  not  make,  and  yet  "  We  have  done 
all  we  could"  is  in  effect  saying  the  same. 
Rfary  would  never  have  said  any  thing 
like  this  of  herself.  You  may  appeal  to 
the  text  and  say,  "  But  her  Lord  said  it  of 
her."  He  said  it  indeed,  but  not  of  her 
whole  life  ;  he  is  speaking  only  of  one  ex- 
traordinary act  of  it.  The  probability  is, 
that  those  amongst  us,  who  use  this  lan- 
guage, have  never  yet  really  done  any 
thing  at  all  for  Christ ;  that  were  they 
asked  at  this  moment  what  sacrifice  they 
have  ever  made  for  him,  what  self-denial 
practised,  what  painful  cross  carried,  what 
labor  of  love  performed,  they  would  be 
silent,  they  could  tell  us  of  none.  We  are 
miserable  sinners,  brethren,  and  till  we 
have  discovered  our  misery  and  sin,  and 
fled  to  Christ  for  deliverance  as  none  but 
those  who  feel  themselves  perishing  ever 
do  flee  to  him,  we  want  the  spring  within 
us,  that  will  impel  us  to  live  to  him.  And 
what  is  this  ?  It  is  a  fervent  love  to  him, 
arising  out  of  a  pcrcc|)tion,  a  grateful  feel- 
ing, of  the  immense  things  he  has  done  for 
us.  "  We  love  him  because  he  first  loved 
us" — there  is  the  secret  of  Christian  obe- 
dience. Christian  self-denial,  Christian  de- 
votedness.  We  must  take  Christ  as  our 
souls'  Saviour,  we  must  trust  and  hope  in 
him  as  our  Saviour  ;  then  shall  we  begin 
to  love  him,  to  act  for  his  glory,  and  live 
to  his  praise. 

As  for  you,  brethren,  wlio  have  learned 
and  felt  tills,  I  would  earnestly  pray  that 
what  you  have  hoard  to-day  may  make  you 
feel  it  again.  To  be  reminded  of  what  we 
ought  to  do  for  Christ  and  might  have  done, 
must  send  us  anew  to  him  as  our  Redeemer 
and  Saviour,  must  cause  us  to  feel  anew 
that  we  have  no  other  hope  than  his  pre- 
cious blood.  Our  short-comings,  the  things 
we  have  left  undone,  we  feel  are  enougfi 
to  condemn  us.  I'ardoning  lovo,  a  sense 
of  it — it  is  well  to  have  that  renewed:   it 


is  that  which  puts  our  minds  in  a  fiamc  to 
be  thankful  for  every  blessing,  which  lays 
us  low  in  self-abaseinent  one  moment  be- 
fore our  Lord,  and  then  the  next  moment 
constrains  us  to  get  up  and  say,  "  Now  for 
work  ;  now  for  duty  ;  now,  if  need  be,  for 
suffering;  now  for  any  thing  that  will 
show  our  love  for  our  Redeemer,  that  will 
bring  honor  to  our  glorious  Master  in  this 
evil  world." 


SERMON  XLV. 

THE  ELEVENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

A  SINNER  PRAYING  FOR  MERCY. 

St.  Luke  xviii.  13. — "  The  publican,  standing 
afar  off,  would  not  lift  up  so  much  as  his  eyes 
unto  heaven,  but  smote  upon  his  breast,  saying, 
God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner." 

"  Two  men,"  our  Lord  says,  "  went  up 
into  the  temple  to  pray."  These  two  men 
he  intends  to  represent  two  very  common 
classes  of  men.  They  both  come  to  the 
house  of  God,  and  they  both  pray  there  or 
profess  to  pray,  but  there  is  this  important 
difference  between  them — the  one  prays 
aright,  the  other  very  far  from  aright ;  the 
one  is  accepted  of  God,  the  other  rejected. 

To  which  of  these  two  classes,  brethren, 
do  we  belong  ?  We  certainly  belong  to 
one  or  the  other  of  them,  and  the  text  will 
show  us  to  which.  It  sets  before  us  the 
accepted  worshipper.  We  shall  find  in 
him  four  circumstances  to  notice — the 
blessing  he  asks  for,  the  character  in  which 
he  asks  for  it,  the  manner  of  his  supplica- 
ting it,  and  his  success. 

i.  Tlie  blessing  he  asks  is  mcrcjj- ;  "  God 
be  merciful  to  me." 

But  for  this,  you  may  say,  wc  all  ask ; 
and  true,  in  words  we  do.  The  fact  how. 
ever  is,  that  some  of  us  do  not  pray  foi 
mercy  even  when  wc  think  we  are  praying 
for  it.  We  may  have  never  once  reallv 
prayed  for  it  in  our  whole  lives. 

Did  you  ever  ask  your.selves  what  mercy 
is  ?  It  means,  in  common  language,  pity 
shown  to  the  miserable  for  pity's  sake 
Strictly  speaking,  it  ceases  to  bo  mercy, 
if  the  miserable  liave  any  claim  on  us.  It 
take5  then  the  character  of  justice.  And 
mrrcy  has  exactly  the  same   meaning  in 


A  SINNER  PRAYING  FOR  MERCY. 


215 


holy  scripture.  It  signifies  God's  kindness 
extended  to  miserable  man  of  God's  own 
pure  goodness.  And  because  sin  is  our 
chief  misery,  mercy  generally  signifies  the 
pardon  of  our  sins  ;  the  free  pardon  of 
them ;  pardon  given  us,  not,  as  is  some- 
times said,  when  we  deserve  pardon,  but 
when  we  are  altogether  undeserving  of  it, 
when  we  can  no  more  find  any  thing  in  us 
to  recommend  us  to  God's  favor,  than  we 
can  find  holiness  in  sin  or  brightness  in 
midnight.  Mercy  has  its  origin  in  the 
depths  of  Jehovah's  own  soul.  His  soul 
is  ever  full  of  it,  even  to  overflowing.  It 
wants  nothing  in  man  to  give  it  existence, 
and  nothing  save  misery  in  man  ^to  draw 
it  forth.  It  flows  from  him  with  as  little 
respect  to  our  deservings,  as  the  sun's  light 
has  to  the  world's  darkness,  or  the  showers 
of  heaven  to  the  earth's  drought.  Even 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ  through  which  it 
coines  to  us,  adds  nothing  to  it.  It  is  only 
a  glorious  channel  the  mighty  stream  has 
made  for  itself  through  mountains  of  diffi- 
culties, that  it  may  reach  our  miseries. 
God  loved  us,  he  was  mercifully  inclined 
towards  us,  and  because  he  was  so,  "  he 
sent  his  Son  to  be  the  propitiation  for  our 
sins." 

You  see  then  how  easily  we  may  mis- 
tal<e  in  this  thing.  Thousands  are  daily 
asking  for  something  else  under  the  name 
of  mercy.  We  never  really  pray  for  mer- 
cy, unless  we  supplicate  it  for  mercy's 
sake.  Hear  David  pray  for  it.  He  makes 
mercy  his  plea  for  mercy,  and  his  only 
plea.  "  Have  mercy  upon  me,  O  God, 
according  to  thy  loving-kindness  ;  accord- 
ing to  the  multitude  of  thy  tender  mercies, 
blot  out  my  transgressions." 

II.  We  may  turn  now  to  tlie  character 
in  jchich  this  man  prays.  He  says,  "  God 
be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner." 

Look  for  a  moment  at  the  other  man. 
"The  Pharisee,"  we  read,  "stood, and  pray- 
ed thus  with  himself;  God,  I  thank  thee  that 
I  am  not  as  other  men  are."  And  this 
language  seems  at  first  pious  and  good. 
He  was  different  from  other  men  ;  and  a 
godly  man  must  differ  from  others.  He 
ascribes  this  difference  to  God,  and  God  it 
is,  who  by  his  grace  makes  us  to  differ. 
He  deems  this  difl'erencea  blessing,  and 
thanks  God  for  it,  and  who  can  thank  God 
enough  if  he  has  made  him  unlike  an  evil 
world  ?  Wherein  then  was  the  man 
wrong  ?      Before  he   begins    the   parable. 


our  Lord  tells  us — he  "  trusted  in  himself 
that  he  was  righteous."  True,  every  thing 
around  him  declared  the  reverse.  He  was 
now  in  the  temple.  There  before  him 
were  the  priests  supplicating  the  pardon 
of  the  nation's  transgressions  ;  there  stood 
the  altar  of  burnt-offering  directly  wiihin 
his  sight ;  either  the  morning  or  the  even- 
ing sacrifice  had  probably  at  this  time  just 
been  slain  ;  look  where  he  would,  the  whole 
temple  proclaimed  itself  a  temple  built  for 
sinners;  it  proclaimed  to  this  Pharisee  the 
divine  holiness  and  man's  great  guilt ;  yet 
he  feels  as  he  stands  in  it  no  guilt ;  he 
prays  in  this  temple  as  a  righteous  man. 
His  prayer,  you  observe,  did  not  harmonize 
with  the  place  he  was  in  ;  nor  did  it  cor- 
respond any  better  with  his  own  character. 
All  he  saysof  himself  might  be  true.  He 
might  not  be  "  as  other  men  are,  extortion- 
ers, unjust,  adulterers  ;"  but  was  he  there- 
fore righteous  ?  No  ;  he  was  in  God's 
sight  a  sinner,  and  a  most  guilty  and  mis- 
erable one. 

And  we  know  too  well  where  to  find  men 
like  him.  Our  own  church,  just  like  this 
Jewish  temple,  tells  us  everywhere  of  hu- 
man sinfulness.  Both  its  sacraments  set  it 
forth  to  us.  Baptism  says  we  are  polluted 
and  need  spiritual  cleansing ;  and  then 
comes  the  supper  of  the  Lord,  reminding 
us  in  the  most  affecting  manner,  by  the  em- 
blems  of  his  broken  body  and  poured  out 
blood,  that  we  are  offenders  and  heavy  of- 
fenders against  a  holy  God.  Our  prayer- 
book  too  is  emphatically  a  sinner's  prayer- 
book.  It  is  not  that  it  makes  us  call  our- 
selves "  miserable  offx»nders"  in  one  place 
and  "  miserable  sinners"  in  another,  it  has 
our  great  sinfulness  in  view  in  almost  every 
prayer  it  contains  ;  and  blessed  be  God  that 
it  has !  It  would  be  no  prayer-book  for  us, 
if  it  had  not.  And  yet  thousands  come  to 
our  sacraments  and  use  our  prayers,  shall 
I  say,  without  one  thought  of  their  sins  ?  If 
not  so,  yet  thinking  tenfold  more  of  their 
righteousness ;  thoroughly  well  pleased 
with  themselves ;  glad  and  thankful,  just 
as  this  Pharisee  was,  that  they  are  not  like 
other  men. 

But  turn  to  the  publican.  What  a  con- 
trast !  He  prays  in  a  character  tliat  cor- 
responds exactly  with  the  temple-services, 
and  also  with  the  blessing  he  supplicates. 
There  at  the  altar  falls  the  sacrifice,  and 
who  needs  a  sacrifice  but  the  sinful  ?  He 
pleads  for  mercy,  and  who  needs  mercy 


216 


A  SINNER  PRAYING  FOR  MERCY. 


but  the  guilty  ?  And  it  is  a  blessed  thing, 
brethren,  for  a  sinful  man  to  be  thus  will- 
ing to  take  his  own  proper  ground  when  he 
prays.  He  must  take  it,  if  he  means  to 
abtain  God's  mercy.  All  the  mercy  that 
Dxists  in  God,  boundless  as  it  is,  is  mercy 
for  sinners.  Tiie  gospel  which  proclaims 
it  to  us,  proclaims  it  as  such.  "Christ 
Jesus,"  it  says,  "  came  into  the  world  to 
save  sinners ;"  he  died  for  sinners;  yea, 
he  still  lives  in  heaven  as  an  Advocate  for 
sinners.  To  come  then  within  the  range 
of  Christ's  commission,  we  must  be  sinners. 
He  has  nothing  to  do  with  us  if  we  are  not, 
no  more  than  with  the  angels  in  heaven  or 
the  lost  angels  in  hell.  And  to  obtain  God's 
mercy  through  Christ,  we  must  know  and 
feel  ourselves  to  be  sinners.  We  must  seek 
mercy  as  sinners,  and  as  sinners  we  must 
accept  it.  Nay,  brethren,  as  sinners  we 
must  trust  in  God  after  we  have  received  it ; 
as  sinners  we  must  hope  in  him  ;  as  sinners 
we  must  love  him  ;  and  as  sinners  we  must 
praise  him.  Some  of  you  may  say,  "  No  ; 
we  will  come  before  God  as  his  beloved 
children  ;"  and  so  you  may;  at  least  such 
of  you  as  have  fled  for  refuge  to  Christ  the 
Saviour;  but  still  you  must  come  before 
him,  you  must  pray  to  him  and  praise  him, 
as  his  sinful  children.  Abel  did  so.  He 
took  a  sacrifice  when  he  drew  near  the 
Lord  ;  he  approached  him,  just  as  this  pub- 
lican approached  him,  in  a  sinner's  charac- 
ter, and  he  was  accepted.  Cain  felt  no  need 
of  this.  He  got  on  other  ground  ;  he  stood 
before  God  simply  as  a  depjendentand  grate- 
ful creature,  exactly  as  this  Pharisee  stood  ; 
he  brought  his  offering  of  fruits  and  flow- 
ers, but  no  sacrifice ;  and  Cain  was  re- 
jected. "  The  Lord  had  respect  unto  Abel 
and  to  his  offering,  but  unto  Cain  and  his 
ofTering  he  had  not  respect." 

IIL  Oliserve  now  the  manner  in  ichkh 
this  jcnrshipper  prays. 

And  here  again  all  is  in  harmony.  His 
manner  accords  well  with  his  character 
and  his  petition. 

He  is  a  sinner,  and  consequently  he  prays 
7nost  hiimh/i/. 

"  The  Pharisee  stood  by  himself,"  but  it 
was  evidently  |)ri(ie  of  heart,  whicii  lod  him 
to  do  so.  He  shrunk  from  the  common 
crowd,  and  from  this  publican  especially. 
as  from  one  whose  prcscncr'  near  him  would 
contaminate  him.  The  puhlican  Irm  shrinks 
from  him,  but  for  another  nnsnii.  '-He 
stood  afar  olT,"  doubtless   because  he   frit 


himself  utterly  unworthy  to  be  near  this 
seemingly  righteous  Pharisee,  or  near  any 
one  who  appeared  really  to  love  God.  Here 
was  one  proof  of  his  deep  humility ;  and 
now  see  another.  There  is  a  Being  ir\ 
heaven  far  holier  than  the  holiest  of  mor- 
tals, and  this  the  man  knew.  Mark  the 
abasement  of  his  soul  before  him.  He 
comes  into  his  presence  in  his  temple,  but 
when  there,  he  feels  as  though  he  could 
hardly  bear  his  presence — "  he  would  not 
lift  up  so  much  as  his  eyes  unto  heaven." 
He  could  not.  He  was  like  an  offending 
child,  that  comes  humbled  and  heart-broken 
to  a  forgiving  father,  and  covers  his  face 
in  shanv^  and  confusion  as  he  comes,  not 
daring  to  meet  his  father's  glance.  O  for 
this  prostration  of  spirit !  Where  shall  we 
find  it  ?  Were  we  to  say,  nowhere,  we 
should  "  offend  against  the  generation  of 
God's  children."  It  is  to  be  found,  or  some- 
thing like  it,  in  every  man  who  is  really 
drawing  near  God's  footstool  for  mercy. 
There  is  not  a  man  on  the  earth  among 
those  that  have  obtained  mercy,  who  deems 
this  humiliation  strange.  The  young  Chris- 
tian may  not  know  much  of  it — of  what 
holy  feeling  does  he  know  much  ?  but  every 
Christian  knows  something  of  it,  and  will 
assuredly  know  more.  Ask  the  old  Chris- 
tian what  he  understands  of  it,  the  expe- 
rienced and  tried  Christian,  the  man  who 
rejoices  the  most  in  his  Redeemer's  mercy, 
and  has  seen  the  most  of  his  Redeemer's 
glory — ask  him  what  his  feelings  often  are 
as  he  prays.  He  will  say,  just  as  holy 
Job  said,  "I  abhor  myself."  He  will  say 
just  what  the  pious  Ezra  said,  "  O  my  God, 
I  am  ashamed  and  blush  to  lift  up  my  face 
to  thee,  my  God." 

And  it  is  cheering  to  see,  as  we  look  at 
this  scripture,  how  well  the  Lord  Jesus  un- 
derstands all  the  workings  of  the  stricken 
heart.  He  could  never  have  felt  as  this 
sinful  publican  felt;  he  had  never  known 
sin.  and  could  not  know  what  shame  and 
humiliation  in  his  l-\ilhcr"s  ])resence  were; 
yet  tiorr  he  ilcscrihcs  ihrm  as  naturally  as 
though  he  had  d(>f'ply  experienced  them. 
And  you  especially,  brethren,  may  take 
comfort  from  this,  who  are  now  bowed  down 
1)V  these  feelings.  You  camiot  look  up  to 
God,  you  scarcely  dare  even  to  pray  to 
him,  so  hateful  and  loathsome  do  you  deem 
-yourselves  in  his  sight  ;  I)Ut  that  (lod  knows 
well  the  workings  of  your  soul.  He  lonks 
on  ^■ou,  ili(iui,di  vtiu  dare  not  look  mi  him  ; 


A  SINNER  PRAYING  FC  R  MERCY. 


217 


and  never  again  will  he  take  from  you 
that  look  of  kiiuhicss.  "To  this  man," 
he  says,  "  will  I  look,  and  look  with  all 
the  care,  and  pity,  and  tenderness  of  my 
soul,  even  to  him  that  is  poor,  and  of  a 
contrite  spirit,  and  that  trembleth  at  my 
word." 

This  publican  prayed  also  very  earnestly. 
He  "  smote  upon  his  breast."  No  matter 
what  led  him  to  do  so.  It  was  doubtless  a 
mixture  of  feelings.  Indignation  against 
himself,  a  sense  of  his  own  pollution  and 
misery,  a  thrilling  apprehension  of  coming 
wrath — these  tilings  took  possession  of  his 
mind  ;  they  agitated  him  ;  and  like  a  man 
driven  to  extremities,  he  could  not  restrain 
his  agitation,  he  smote  himself  as  he  cried 
for  m^ercy.  He  became  exceedingly  earn- 
est in  his  prayer  for  it.  He  prayed  for  no- 
thing else ;  he  thought  of  nothing  else. 
Mercy  is  everything  with  him. 

And  what  was  it  to  you,  Christian  brcth- 
ren,  when  you  first  felt  your  need  of  it  ? 
It  was  before  a  word,  an  ideal  thing ;  or  at 
best,  it  was  something  which  you  thought 
you  might  want  one  day  or  other,  but  for 
the  present  could  do  without.  God  however 
by  his  Spirit  touched  your  heart,  and  then 
food  for  the  starving,  water  for  the  fainting, 
pardon  for  the  condemned,  life  for  the  dy- 
ino- — never  were  one  of  these  things  more 
eagerly  asked  for,  than  mercy  by  you. 
You  prayed  for  it  in  some  measure  accord- 
ing to  your  great  need  of  it  and  its  own 
great  worth.  That  was  the  happiest  hour 
of  your  life,  when  you  first  dared  to  hope 
you  had  found  it.  O  that  some  here  who 
seem  to  pray  for  it  coldly,  might  be  led  to 
ask  themselves  whether  they  ever  pray  for 
it  at  all  !  Remember  what  it  is.  It  is  God's 
mercy,  his  free  and  entire  forgiveness,  his 
abounding  mercy,  a  mercy  above  all  our 
sins,  above  all  our  wants  and  miseries,  yea, 
above  all  our  thoughts.  We  are  undone 
forever  without  it ;  we  are  happy  forever 
witii  it.  There  is  an  eternity  of  dark,  bit- 
ter misery  before  us — this  mercy  can  save 
us  from  it.  There  is  a  heaven  of  rest  and 
joy  above  us,  and  this  same  mercy  can 
raise  us  to  it.  Can  a  cold  prayer  then  for 
a  blessing  like  this  be  a  real  prayer?  No, 
never.  Have  we  been  aware  of  what  we 
have  asked  for,  when  we  have  asked  for 
this  ?  Many  of  us  have  not.  We  have 
been  trifling  with  this  mercy,  and  trifling 
with  tlie  God  who  gives  it.  Lord,  at  length 
show  us  mercy,  and  mercy  especially  for 
28 


this,  that  we  have  so  little  valued  or  sought 
thy  mercy. 

IV.  Tiiere  is  yet  another  circumstance 
in  the  parable  to  be  noticed — the  success  oj 
this  mail's  prayer. 

It  was,  first,  abundant  success,  success 
beyond  his  petition.  He  asks  for  mercy, 
for  mercy  only  ;  but  hear  our  Lord  ;  "  I 
tell  you,  this  man  went  down  to  his  house 
justified."  Had  he  said  "pardoned,"  he 
would  fully  have  met  the  man's  request, 
but  he  goes  beyond  this — he.  says  "justi- 
fied." 

The  word  implies  that  this  poor,  trem- 
bling publican  was  now  accepted  of  God, 
and  received  by  him  into  his  favor.  Not 
only  has  he  forgiven  him  his  iniquity  and 
covered  all  his  sin,  taken  away  from  him 
all  his  wrath  and  turned  himself  from  his 
anger — the  word  intimates  that  the  feelings 
of  God  towards  him  are  those  of  love  and 
delight  ;  not  a  monarch's  feelings  towards 
a  guilty  rebel  whom  he  has  just  pardoned 
and  dismissed,  but  that  monarch's  feelings 
towards  one  who  was  a  rebel,  but  whom 
now  he  has  adopted  and  declared  his  son. 
It  is  the  same  word  that  is  so  often  applied 
by  St.  Paul  to  those  who  stand  before  God 
washed  in  the  blood,  and  clothed  in  the 
righteousness,  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  They  are 
still  vile  in  themselves,  and  are  still  hateful 
to  themselves  on  account  of  their  vileness, 
but  "  Tiiev  are  to  me,"  says  God,  "  as  dear 
sons  and  as  pleasant  children.  I  heed  not 
their  vileness.  There  is  a  robe  on  them, 
that  covers  all  their  shame  ;  a  robe  wrought 
for  them  by  the  Beloved  of  my  soul  in  the 
days  of  his  anguish,  and  while  I  see  tiiat,  I 
look  no  further.  I  cast  all  their  sins  be- 
hind my  back  ;  their  sins  and  their  iniqui- 
ties will  I  remember  no  more.  No  holy 
angel  in  my  own  holy  heaven  is  dearer  to 
me  than  they."  God  never  gives  mercy 
only,  brethren.  When  he  gives  this,  he 
gives  his  love  and  his  heart  with  it,  all  the 
blessings  of  his  grace  and  all  the  riches  of 
his  glory. 

See  this  beautifully  shadowed  forth  in 
another  parable.  "  1  will  arise  and  go  to 
my  father,"  said  the  prodigal  in  his  misery. 
He  goes,  and  what  is  there  for  him  ?  For- 
giveness, and  then  a  hireling's  place  in  his 
father's  house  ?  There  is  much  more — a 
fatiier's  embrace  and  a  father's  love,  tlie 
best  raiment  he  can  find  for  him  and  the 
best  food.  There  is  joy  in  his  father's 
house  on  account  of  him,  and  joy  in  his 


218 


A  SINNER  PRAYING  FOR  MERCY. 


father's  heart.  He  is  received  as  a  belov- 
ed and  faithful  son.  And  thus  the  psalm- 
ist couples  together  the  mercy  of  Jehovah, 
and  the  abundance  of  his  goodness  to  his 
redeemed  ;  "  Let  Israel  hope  in  the  Lord, 
tor  with  the  Lord  there  is  mercy,  and  with 
him  is  plenteous  redemption." 

This  publican's  success  was  also  ini- 
mediaie.  "  I  tell  you,"  our  Lord  says, 
"  he  went  down  to  his  house  justified." 

We  might  have  looked  for  some  trial 
or  some  process  to  be  gone  through,  before 
he  should  be  fully  pardoned.  He  himself 
perhaps,  when  he  asked  for  mercy,  was 
looking  forward  to  some  distant  day,  and 
praying  that  he  might  find  mercy  then  ; 
the  mercy  that  Paul  prayed  for  at  Rome 
for  his  friend  Onesiphorus — mercy  "  in 
that  day."  "  But  there  is  mercy  for  him 
now,"  says  Jehovah  ;  "  I  interpose  no  de- 
lay ;"  and  the  man  goes  from  God's  house 
to  his  own  pardoned  and  accepted.  An 
hour  ago  he  was  indeed  a  sinner  ;  the  ini- 
quities of  a  whole  life  were  on  him  and  hell 
beneath  him ;  now  he  is  cleansed,  and 
cleansed  for  ever,  from  all  sin.  One  look 
at  the  slain  sacrifice,  one  cry  for  mercy, 
has  made  that  miserable  sinner  a  child  of 
God  and  an  heir  of  heaven. 

Is  this  strange  to  any  of  you  ?  Is  it  al- 
most passing  your  belief?  Which  of  God's 
ways  of  mercy  is  not  so  ?  They  are  all 
strange,  all  wonderful,  for  that  mercy  it- 
self is  most  wonderful.  It  is  great  beyond 
our  conception  of  greatness.  We  can  no 
more  fathom  it  than  we  can  fathom  eterni- 
ty ;  we  can  no  more  measure  it  than  we 
can  measure  the  distance  between  God 
and  ourselves.  God  himself  so  describes 
it  ;  "  Let  the  wicked  forsake  his  w  ay,  and 
the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts,  and  let 
him  return  unto  the  Lord,  and  he  will  have 
mercy  upon  him  ;  and  to  our  God,  for  he 
will  abundantly  pardon  ;"  and  then  what 
measure  docs  God  give  us  of  this  abundant 
mercy  ?  "  My  thoughts  are  not  your 
thoughts,"  he  immediately  adds,  "  neither 
are  your  ways  my  ways,  saith  the  Lord. 
For  as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the 
earth,  so  are  my  ways  higher  than  your 
ways,  and  my  thoughts  than  your  thoughts." 

Am  I  speaking  to  any  fellow-sinner  who 
feels  his  need  of  mercy  like  this  ?  who 
would  deem  even  tiic  most  distant  hope  of 
it  a  blessing  unutterable  ?  Is  there  a  man 
here,  who  can  look  on  this  publican  as  lie 
stands  crying  for  mercy  in  the  temple,  and 


say,  "  That  man  am  I  ?"  Then  I  would 
say  to  that  fellow-sinner,  and  say  it  as  one 
who  must  give  account  to  the  living  God 
for  every  word  he  utters  here,  There  is  the 
same  mercy  for  you,  that  this  publican 
found — exactly  the  same — free  mercy, 
abounding  mercy,  immediate  mercy.  Nay, 
there  is  no  other  mercy  for  you.  It  must 
be  this  or  none.  Our  God  is  a  great  God, 
and  there  is  no  partial,  no  limited  mercy 
with  him.  Mercy  is  iiis  delight,  and  when 
he  gives  it  at  all,  he  gives  it  in  a  large 
measure,  with  his  whole  heart  and  with  his 
whole  soul.  And  he  gives  it  at  once.  One 
touch  of  Christ's  garment  made  a  sick 
woman  whole,  and  immediately  whole. 
One  believing  look  at  Christ  on  his  cross, 
one  prayer  to  Christ  on  his  throne,  can 
bring  mercy  to  you,  and  bring  it  now  ;  yes, 
make  at  this  very  moment  such  a  change 
in  your  condition,  that  did  you  enter  these 
walls  a  child  of  wrath,  you  shall  leave  them 
a  son  of  glory  ;  you  too  shall  go  down  to 
your  house  justified.  It  does  not  follow 
that  you  would  at  once  be  aware  of  this 
change.  We  are  not  told  that  this  man 
knew  he  was  justified,  but  justified  Jie  was. 
And  justified  shall  you  be,  and  every  child 
of  man,  the  moment  God's  mercy  is  im- 
plored, and  God's  promises  in  Christ  Jesus 
embraced.  Your  "  iniquity  shall  be  sought 
for,  and  there  siiall  be  none  ;  and  your 
sins,  and  they  shall  not  be  found." 

Shall  I  end  here,  brethren  ?  O  that  I 
could,  and  feel  I  had  said  all  that  I  ought! 
But  you  remember  how  we  began.  The 
Lord  Jesus  did  not  deliver  this  parable  to 
encourage  the  contrite,  but  chiefly  to  re- 
prove and  alarm  the  self-righteous.  While 
this  trembling  worshipper  goes  down  to  his 
house  justified,  he  shows  us  another  wor- 
shipper going  from  the  temple  just  as  he 
entered  it — well  pleased  witii  himself,  bet- 
ter pleased  perhaps  than  he  was  before, 
but,  alas !  not  justified.  The  burden  of 
sin  still  rests  on  him,  and  the  displeasure 
of  God  follows  him.  All  he  has  gain- 
ed  by  his  worship  is  worse  than  nothing  ; 
he  had  better  not  have  gained  it.  It  is 
only  an  increase  of  his  self-complacency 
and  pride. 

And  it  is  a  mournful  thought  that  this 
man  is  only  a  picture  of  some  of  you. 
Ciirist  int(Mided  him  as  a  picture  of  some 
of  you.  "  There,"  he  says,  "  look  at  that 
Pharisee  ;  that  decent,  moral,  self-delight- 
ed, but  unpardoned  Pharisee  ;  and  say  as 


ST.  PAUL'S  PRAYER  FOR  ONEsJlPHORUS. 


21fl 


you  leave  my  courts,  each  one  of  you  to 
himself,  Thou  art  the  man.  Thou  hast 
come  here,  where  all  thou  hast  witnessed 
has  told  thee  of  thy  sinfulness  and  misery. 
Thou  hast  come  to  a  temple  built  lor  sin- 
ners ;  thou  hast  joined  in  prayers  written 
for  sinners  ;  thou  hast  heard  of  a  Saviour, 
who  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners  ; 
thou  hast  listened  to  a  gospel  which  pro- 
claims mercy,  free  and  abundant  mercy, 
for  the  chief  of  sinners  ;  there  is  a  happy 
heaven,  thou  hast  been  told,  set  open  for 
sinners  ;  but  what  has  been  the  language 
of  thy  heart  ?  I  may  be  a  sinner,  but  I 
have  not  felt  here  as  one ;  I  have  not 
really  prayed  as  one  ;  I  have  not  attended 
to  the  sermon  I  have  heard  as  though  I 
were  one.  I  have  rather  thanked  God  that 
I  am  not  one,  but  a  good  and  righteous 
man.  I  am  now  going  home,  and  in  what 
frame  of  mind  ?  Loathing  myself  for  my 
guiltiness,  and  anxious  to  get  alone  and 
cast  myself  down  before  an  offended  God, 
and  implore  his  mercy  ?  No,  let  this  or 
that  guilty  man  among  my  neighbors  act 
thus.  I  have  no  need.  The  Lord  is  al- 
ready well  pleased  with  me."  O  breth- 
ren, a  real  believer  in  Christ  would  not 
have  his  soul  in  your  soul's  stead  for  a 
thousand  worlds !  This  satisfaction  with 
yourselves,  if  it  is  not  shaken,  will  prove 
your  ruin.  May  the  living  God  by  his 
mighty  Spirit  shake  it !  May  he  force 
from  you  this  day,  in  spite  of  yourselves, 
this  humble  but  blessed  prayer,  "  God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner  !" 


SERMON  XLVL 

THE  TWELFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

ST.  PAUL'S  PRAYER  FOR  ONESIPHORUS. 

2  Timothy  i.  18. — "  The  Lord  grant  unto  him 
that  he  may  find  mercy  of  the  Lord  in  that 
day." 

We  had  for  our  meditation  on  the  last 
sabbath  the  prayer  of  a  contrite  sinner  for 
himself  We  have  here  a  holy  Christian's 
prayer  for  one  of  his  fellow-Christians.  It 
is  a  petition  of  the  apostle  Paul  for  One- 
siphorus,  a  person  who  had  shown  him 
great  kindness.     We  might  have  supposed 


that  the  blessing  it  supplicates  would  be 
difTerent,  something  of  a  higher  character, 
but  it  is  the  same  ;  and  the  prayer  itself  is 
very  like  the  other,  short  and  simple.  The 
same  Spirit  prompted  it  ;  we  could  readily 
have  believed  it  to  come  from  the  same 
man. 

The  instruction  it  contains,  is  of  a  very 
serious  nature.  May  the  Lord  open  our 
understandings  to  receive  it !  And  more 
— may  he  send  us  to  our  homes  feeling, 
and  feeling  deeply,  its  importance  ! 

The  passage  oflers  three  things  to  our 
notice — first,  mercy  ;  then,  a  particular 
day  in  which  this  mercy  will  be  needed  ; 
and  then,  a  prayer  that  this  kind-hearted 
Onesiphorus  may  find  this  mercy  in  this 
day. 

L  Mercy  is  a  word  we  are  often  using, 
especially  in  our  prayers.  Our  church 
teaches  us  to  ask  for  this  blessing  more 
frequently  than  for  any  other,  and  there  is 
nothing  we  have  oftener  supplicated  in  our 
chambers  and  families.  But  there  are 
some  of  us  perhaps,  who  have  no  very  clear 
ideas  of  what  mercy  is.  I  must  remind 
you  again  that  it  is  not  mere  kindness  or 
goodness.  To  ask  God  to  show  us  mercy, 
is  not  simply  to  ask  God  to  do  us  good. 
Such  a  petition  includes  in  it  a  confession 
of  our  wretchedness  and  our  guiltiness; 
for  observe,  misery  is  the  proper  object  of 
mercy.  Mercy,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
word,  is  kindness  exercised  towards  the 
wretched  ;  but  then  there  is  another  use 
of  the  term  and  a  more  common  one.  Be- 
cause our  guilt  is  our  greatest  misery, 
mercy  often  signifies  in  scripture  pity  shown 
to  the  guilty  ;  in  other  Avords,  the  forgive- 
ness of  our  sins.  Our  prayer-book  attaches 
both  these  ideas  to  the  word,  it  connects 
both  these  things  with  it,  our  misery  and 
guilt  too,  when  it  leads  us  to  pray  that  God, 
tiie  Father  of  heaven,  would  "  have  mercy 
upon  us,  miserable  sinners." 

In  some  respects  mercy  resembles  good- 
ness. It  is  indeed  the  very  same  thing, 
only  its  object  is  different.  God  is  good  to 
all,  and  always  has  been  so  ;  but  he  was 
never  merciful,  till  misery  appeared  need- 
ing his  compassion.  He  is  good  in  heav- 
en ;  every  angel  there  feels  and  proclaims 
him  such  :  but  there  is  no  mercy  in  heav- 
en,  for  there  is  no  guilt  there  or  wretched- 
ness. Our  world  is  the  only  world  where 
mercy  is  exercised.  Mercy  first  came  into 
being  here;  or  if  not  so,  here  for  the  first 


220 


ST.  PAULS  PRAYER  FOR  ONESIPHORUS. 


time  it  was  seen.  Our  world  appears  to 
have  been  built  for  mercy.  We  ourselves 
seem  called  into  existence  to  draw  it  forth 
out  of  the  divine  mind,  to  keep  up  a  display 
and  exhibition  of  it,  to  let  the  universe  see 
that  there  is  mercy  in  Jehovah,  and  that 
as  great  and  glorious  as  any  of  his  other 
attributes. 

And  then  again  mercy  is  closely  allied 
to  grace.  If  it  differs  from  it  at  all,  it  is 
in  this — when  we  speak  of  grace,  we  have 
respect  chiefly  to  the  motive  of  the  giver  ; 
when  of  mercy,  to  the  condition  or  charac- 
ter of  the  receiver.  Look  at  God,  and 
then  we  call  mercy  grace  ;  look  at  man, 
poor,  abject,  guilty  man,  and  then  we  call 
grace  mercy.  Grace  is  goodness  exercised 
spontaneously,  freely.  It  is  kindness  spring- 
ing out  of  kindness,  and  nothing  else  ;  nev- 
er looking  at  the  character  of  its  object, 
but  at  once  settling  on  and  blessing  it. 
Mercy  is  that  same  free  goodness  in  ope- 
ration towards  the  wretched.  It  is  grace 
flying  to  the  aid  of  misery  and  the  pardon 
of  guilt.  Grace  regards  us  simply  as  un- 
deserving; mercy  as  undeserving  still,  but 
•vorse — as  miserable  and  sinful. 

You  see  then,  brethren,  that  mercy  is 
the  perfection  of  the  divine  goodness.  It  is 
that  branch  or  exercise  of  it,  which  goes 
the  farthest  and  does  the  most.  It  is  good- 
ness  blessing  us  when  we  merit  cursing, 
and  saving  us  when  we  are  well  nigh  lost. 
Hence  God  is  sa-id  in  the  scripture  to  "  de- 
light in  mercy."  His  goodness  can  ex- 
pand itself  in  it.  He  finds  in  it  the  freest 
scope,  the  largest  indulgence,  of  his  benev- 
olence. It  is  not  merely  the  work,  it  is 
the  enjoyment,  the  feast  and  triumph  of  his 
love. 

And  you  see  also  here  another  fact,  that 
no  man  can  ever  deserve  mercy.  We 
often  put  these  two  words  together,  but  we 
ought  not  to  do  so ;  there  is  a  positive  con- 
tradiction between  them.  Mercy  is  grace. 
It  is  kindness  towards  one  who  has  no  claim 
whatever  to  kindness,  and  is  totally  unde- 
serving of  it.  Consequently  the  least  merit 
on  our  part  annihilates  mercy  ;  it  turns  it 
into  right  and  justice.  The  two  t'«ings 
cannot  in  any  case  exist  together,  and  for 
this  plain  reason — they  are  altogether  con- 
trary the  one  to  the  other.  So  argues  the 
apostle,  though  in  different  terms.  Speak- 
ing of  the  favor  God  bears  his  people,  "  If," 
he  says,  "  it  is  by  grace,  then  is  it  no  more 
of  worl's"  or  desert.- "otherwise  grace  is  no 


more  grace.  But  if  it  be  of  works,  then  is 
it  no  more  grace,  otherwise  work  is  no 
more  work."  The  one,  he  implies,  must 
destroy  the  other.  We  cannot  ascribe  our 
salvation,  or  any  thing  else,  to  grace  and 
works  also.  In  other  words,  we,  misera- 
ble  sinners,  never  can  deserve  mercy.  It 
must  come  to  us,  if  it  ever  comes  to  us,  as 
pure  mercy.  We  must  seek  it  as  such, 
or  in  fact  we  are  not  seeking  it  at  all  ;  we 
are  asking  for  justice  under  another  name. 

II.  Let  us  pass  on  now  to  ihe  day  the 
apostle  speaks  of. 

And  observe — he  does  not  describe  this 
day;  he  does  not  even  tell  us  what  day 
he  means  ;  but  there  is  no  misunderstand- 
ing him  :  he  means  the  last  great  day,  the 
day  when  God  will  raise  the  dead  and  judge 
the  world.  And  this  mode  of  referring  to 
this  day  is  common  in  his  writings.  There 
is  another  instance  of  it  in  the  twelfth  verse 
of  this  chapter,  and  yet  another  in  the  fourth 
chapter  of  this  epistle.  It  intimates  two 
things. 

First — the  apostle's  thovghts  were  often 
dwelling  on  this  day ;  it  was  a  day  very 
frequently  in  his  contemplation.  His  mind 
had  evidently  become  familiar  with  the 
prospect  of  it,  and  so  familiar,  that  he  could 
not  help  speaking  of  it  as  he  would  of  any 
well  known  and  much  thought  of  thing. 
"  That  day,"  he  says,  as  though  he  believed 
that  Timothy  also,  as  well  as  himself,  had 
his  eyes  constantly  fixed  on  it ;  that  no  one 
could  possibly  at  any  time  forget  it ;  that 
every  one  who  should  read  his  writings^ 
would  have  his  soul  full  of  it. 

And  so  it  seems  really  to  have  been  in 
the  early  ages  of  the  Christian  church. 
We  put  the  day  of  judgment  far  from  us  ; 
we  regard  it  as  a  day  that  will  certainly 
come,  but  after  so  great  an  interval  of  time, 
that  the  thought  of  it  need  not  press  on  us ; 
but  not  so  the  first  believers.  Their  minds 
were  fastened  on  this  day.  It  was  a  day 
they  were  constantly  anticipating.  Their 
expectations,  their  desires  and  hopes,  cen- 
tred in  it.  St.  Peter  describes  them  as 
"  looking  for  and  hasting  unto  the  coming 
of  the  day  of  God."  They  "  looked  for" 
it;  that  is,  they  were  like  men  looking 
out  anxiously  in  the  east  for  the  first  dawn 
of  some  long  wished  for  day,  like  men 
climbing  the  lofty  mountain  to  get  the  first 
sight  of  the  rising  sun  on  some  festal  morn- 
ing. They  "  hastened  unto"  it  ;  that  is 
again,  they  would  liave  met  it  if  they  could, 


ST.  PAUL'S  PRAYER  TOR  ONESIPHORUS. 


221 


Jhey  longed  to  spring  forward  to  it,  tlioy 
were  impatient  for  its  coming,  they  would 
willingly  have  annihilated  all  intervening 
ages  to  bring  it  near. 

But  there  is  something  else  implied  in 
this  expression.  It  intimates  also  that 
this  day  is  a  7)wst  important  one.  The 
apostle  would  never  have  spoken  of  it  thus, 
were  it  not  a  day  of  the  very  utmost  im- 
portance. There  is  the  idea  of  pre-emi- 
nence contained  in  his  language.  It  is  a 
great  day,  it  says,  the  greatest  of  all  days. 
No  other  day  is  worthy  to  be  compared 
with  it. 

And  one  moment's  reflection  shows  us 
the  truth  of  this.  We  feel  as  soon  as  we 
begin  to  think,  that  we  cannot  estimate  as 
we  ought  the  importance  of  this  day.  It 
will  affect  everybody  and  every  thing  on 
the  face  of  the  earth,  a:id  to  the  greatest 
possible  extent.  Other  days  are  important 
to  some,  but  this  will  be  important  to  all. 
It  will  shake  the  whole  world.  As  for 
ourselves,  we  are  to  leave  our  graves  in 
this  day  ;  our  bodies  and  souls  are  to  come 
together  again  after  a  long  separation. 
We  are  to  take  our  trial  for  eternity  in  this 
day  ;  to  answer  at  God's  bar  for  all  we 
have  done,  and  said,  and  thought,  in  the 
days  of  our  mortal  flesh  ;  and  when  this 
trial  is  ended,  our  final  condition  is  to  be- 
gin. We  shall  no  longer  have  the  earth 
to  live  on  :  it  will  have  passed  away.  We 
shall  be  in  a  new  world  :  we  shall  have 
entered  on  a  new  and  untried  mode  of  ex- 
istence, and  that  an  eternal  one.  Wc  shall 
find  ourselves  among  everlasting  burnings 
or  never  ending  glories.  And  it  is  their 
eternal  duration,  which  gives  to  the  events 
of  this  day  such  tremendous  importance. 
Other  days  have  brought  us  sorrows,  but 
the  morrow  has  come  and  ended  them. 
Other  days  have  brought  us  joys,  but'  the 
morrow  has  taken  them  away.  This  day 
however  knows  no  to-morrow.  There  is 
no  end  to  it ;  there  are  no  changes  in  it. 
It  is  the  beginning  of  one  long  endless  day 
of  sorrow  or  of  joy,  a  day  of  unbroken 
sunshine  or  of  constant  storm  and  terror. 
Well  then  may  the  apostle  call  a  day  like 
this  "  that  day."  Well  may  he  speak  of 
it  as  an  extraordinary  and  important  one. 
Well  may  he  pray  for  his  friend,  that  he 
may  find  mercy  of  the  Lord  when  it  comes. 

III.  Turn  now  to  hs  prayer. 

He  brings  together  in  it,  you  observe,  the 
mercy  and  the  day  we  have  been  consider- 


ing. He  prays  that  Onesiphorus  mav  in 
the  one  find  the  oilier  ;  "  Tlie  Lord  grant 
unto  him  that  he  may  find  mercy  of  the 
Lord  in  that  day." 

We  cannot  enter  into  the  spirit  of  this 
prayer,  unless  we  keep  in  mind  throughout 
the  character  of  this  Onesiphorus.  He  was 
evidently  a  real  Christian.  The  apostle 
does  not  say  so,  but  he  implies  as  much. 
He  stood  by  him,  he  says,  when  all  the 
other  professors  of  Christ's  name  in  Asia 
had  deserted  him  ;  "  he  sought  him  out  very 
diligently"  when  in  prison,  "  and  found 
him  ;"  he  "  oft  refreshed  him,  and  was  not 
ashamed  of  his  chain."  And  these  kind 
offices,  we  may  fairly  presume,  he  render- 
ed to  the  apostle  for  his  Master's  sake. 
This  kindness  under  such  trying  circum- 
stances, this  steadfastness  and  boldness  in 
the  face  of  shame  and  danger,  were  the 
fruits  of  his  faith  in  Jesus.  They  are  evi- 
dences that  he  was  not  only  a  sincere  be- 
liever in  the  gospel,  but  a  man  of  extra- 
ordinary faith  and  love. 

The  inference  then  that  we  draw  from 
this  prayer,  is  this  obvious  one — our  Jinal 
salvation,  the  deliverance  of  even  the  best  of 
men  in  the  great  day  of  the  Lord,  mil  be  an 
act  of  mercy. 

It  is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  an  act  of 
justice,  and  such  it  really  is,  if  we  view  it 
in  reference  to  the  Lord  Jesus.  Before  he 
made  his  soul  an  offering  for  sin,  it  was 
promised  him  that  this  stupendous  sacrifice 
should  not  be  made  in  vain.  "  He  shall  see 
his  seed,"  said  the  great  God  of  heaven. 
"  He  shall  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul, 
and  be  satisfied.  My  righteous  servant 
shall  justify  many."  When,  therefore, 
he  comes  in  his  glory,  he  will  come,  not 
only  as  a  Judge  to  try  the  world,  but  as  a 
Servant  of  Jehovah  to  claim  his  reward ; 
or  rather  as  a  joyful  Bridegroom  to  receive 
the  bride  he  has  so  dearly  ransomed  and 
purchased.  The  equity  of  Jehovah  will 
give  to  that  once  crucified  but  now  trium- 
phant Son  of  Man,  a  multitude  that  no  man 
can  number  of  redeemed  souls. 

And  the  scripture  speaks  of  our  salvation 
as  a  righteous  thing  in  another  sense — the 
Lord  Jesus  has  led  his  people  to  expect  it. 
Just  as  his  Father  promised  it  to  liim,  so 
has  he  promised  it  to  them.  It  matters  not 
how  unworthy  they  may  be  of  it,  the  word 
of  the  Lord  has  gone  forth  ;  his  people  have 
all  confided  in  that  word  ;  and  now  justice 
itself,  assuming   the   form  of  faithfulness, 


222 


ST.  PAUL'S  PRAYER  FOR  ONESIPHORUS. 


declares  aloud  that  salvation  must  be  theirs. 
Hence  the  apostle  says  in  this  epistle,  that 
"  there  is  laid  up  for  him  a  crown  of  righte- 
ousness, which  the  Lord,  the  righteous 
Judge,  shall  give  him  at  that  day."  And 
to  the  Thessalonians  he  says,  that  "  it  is  a 
righteous  thing  with  God"  to  recompense 
his  troubled  servants  with  rest,  "  when  the 
Lord  Jesus  shall  be  revealed." 

But  look  to  the  text.  The  apostle  im- 
plores in  it  mercy  in  that  day  for  his  godly 
friend;  and  what  does  he  mean?  If  he 
means  anything,  bemoans  this, — that  after 
all,  it  must  be  mercy,  free  and  abounding 
mercy,  that  must  save  that  friend,  if  he 
is  ever  saved.  He  can  talk  of  justice  and 
of  righteousness  as  he  looks  at  his  Master 
on  his  throne,  and  remembers  what  he  has 
done  and  promised  ;  but  when  he  looks  on 
a  fellow-sinner,  he  loses  sight  of  justice 
altogether,  and  can  speak  of  mercy  only ; 
and  he  speaks  of  this,  as  though  it  were 
something  great  and  marvellous  for  a  crea- 
ture like  us  to  find  ;  "  The  Lord  grant  unto 
him  that  he  may  find  mercy  of  the  Lord  in 
that  day." 

And  observe  too  how  this  is  said.  It  is 
not  cold  language.  It  is  language  coming 
warm  from  a  most  tender  and  deeply  grate- 
ful heart.  If  you  examine  it  carefully,  you 
will  see  that  it  is  what  we  call  a  parenthe- 
sis, an  ejaculation  thrown  in  while  the  apos- 
tle is  speaking  of  something  else.  He  is 
recounting  the  good  deeds  of  Onesiphorus 
towards  him,  but  he  cannot  get  to  the  end 
of  them  without  stopping  to  pray  for  him  ; 
and  his  prayer  for  him  is,  that  he  may  find 
mercy  of  the  Lord  at  his  coming.  Now 
mark  the  force  of  this.  The  good  works 
of  this  man  were  all  before  Paul  at  this  time 
— his  boldness  in  Christ's  cause,  his  stead- 
fastness, his  kindness;  the  apostle's  mind 
was  evidently  filled  with  admiration  of  him, 
and  his  heart  glowing  with  love  towards 
him  ;  yet  what  in  this  ardor  of  feeling  does 
he  say  ?  The  Lord  recompense  him  after 
his  works?  The  .Lord  reward  and  bless 
him  ?  No  ;  he  sees  in  this  devoted  Chris- 
tian of  Ephesus  a  miserable  sinner  like 
himself,  one  going  soon  to  Christ's  judg- 
ment-seat, and  his  only  prayer  for  him  is, 
that  he  may  find  mercy  there.  And  yet, 
brethren,  some  of  you  can  look  forward  to 
this  judgment-seat,  and  as  you  think  of 
what  you  call  your  good  and  useful  lives, 
dare  to  expect  there  a  reward  of  justice. 
O  may  the  living  God  show  you  this  day 


your  folly  !  We  are  sinners,  and  there  is 
no  hope  for  you,  or  me,  or  any  child  of  man, 
but  that  which  rests  on  the  mercy  of  God 
to  sinners  ;  a  mercy  which  must  come  to 
us  as  undeserved  as  it  came  to  the  thief  by 
the  dying  Saviour's  side,  or  as  it  will  come 
to  the  guiltiest  sinner  it  will  ever  save. 

Thus  much,  1  conceive,  is  implied  in  the 
apostle's  prayer.  As  we  review  the  solemn 
truths  through  which  it  has  led  us,  many 
thoughts  present  themselves  to  us.  There 
are  two  we  must  not  pass  over. 

First — we  all  still  need  mercy.  There  is 
a  notion  that  a  sinner  once  pardoned,  has 
done  with  this  blessed  thing ;  that  he  may 
cease  to  seek  it,  and  almost  cease  to  think 
of  it.  And  this  notion  is  grounded  on  false 
conceptions  of  the  sacrifice  and  work  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  error,  and  gross 
error,  resting  itself  on  truth. 

Think  again  of  what  mercy  is.  It  is 
only  another  name  for  the  divine  goodness 
exercised  towards  the  sinful.  It  is  God's 
love  coming  to  us  in  the  character  of  grace, 
and  when  come,  pardoning  our  guilt  and 
relieving  our  wretchedness.  As  long,  there- 
fore, as  there  is  one  trace  or  stain  of  sin 
within  us,  we  need  mercy  ;  every  blessing 
we  receive  from  heaven,  come  how  it  may, 
must  come  to  us  as  mercy.  If  we  are  not 
the  objects  of  God's  mercy,  we  are  not  the 
objects  of  God's  favor,  we  are  not  within 
the  sphere  of  God's  love.  We  can  never 
have  done  with  mercy  as  long  as  we  are 
in  the  way  to  heaven  ;  or  rather,  mercy  , 
will  never  have  done  with  us.  What  said 
David  ?  "  Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall 
follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life  ;"  good- 
ness, he  means,  in  the  character  of  mercy. 
"  All  the  paths  of  the  Lord,"  he  says  again, 
"  are  mercy  and  truth  unto  such  as  keep 
his  covenant." 

And  notice  also  this  remarkable  fact — 
in  all  his  other  epistles,  the  salutation  of 
this  apostle  to  his  friends  is,  "  Grace  unto 
vou  and  peace  ;"  but  when  he  writes  to 
Timothy  and  Titus,  men  like  himself,  faith- 
ful  and  beloved,  eminent  in  Christ's  church, 
he  alters  this  salutation.  As  though  to  force 
on  our  minds  the  point  I  am  urging — a  con- 
viction that  the  holiest  of  men  still  need 
God's  mercy — he  adds  this  word  "  mercy" 
to  the  other  two.  In  each  of  these  epistles, 
his  salutation  runs,  "  Grace,  mercy,  and 
peace." 

And  turn  again  to  the  text.  It  tells  us 
that  even  in  the  great  day  of  the  Lord, 


ST.  PAUL'S  PRAYER  FOR  ONESIPHORUS. 


223 


our  need  of  this  mercy  will  still  remain. 
"  What,"  you  may  say,  "  when  we  wake 
up  sinless  ?"  I  answer.  Yes,  when  we 
wake  up  sinless,  even  with  the  robe  of 
Christ's  glorious  righteousness  on  us,  and 
we  cleansed  thoroughly  in  his  blood.  Our 
past  guilt  will  ever  keep  us  mercy's  debtors 
and  dependents  on  mercy's  bounty.  It  was 
mercy,  that  first  washed  us  in  that  precious 
blood ;  it  was  mercy,  that  put  that  glorious 
robe  around  us  ;  and  having  done  so  much 
for  us,  mercy  will  not  now  forsake  us.  It 
is  mercy's  voice,  that  will  pronounce  us 
blessed  ;  mercy's  hand,  that  will  open  heav- 
en to  us  ;  and  mercy's  power  and  riches, 
that  will  make  us  happy  in  it.  Hence  the 
heirs  of  heaven  are  called  by  tliis  apostle 
"  vessels  of  mercy  prepared  unto  glory  ;" 
and  Jude,  another  apostle,  calls  the  very 
glory  they  look  for,  mercy.  It  is  "  the 
mercy,"  he  says,  '•  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
unto  eternal  life ;"  mercy  that  becomes  at 
last  salvation,  mercy  laying  aside  the  form 
of  earthly  grace  and  consolation,  and  shin- 
ing forth  in  the  splendor  of  heavenly  joy. 

And  turn,  brethren,  from  scripture  to 
your  own  hearts.  A  heart  full  of  holy 
feeling  is  no  bad  interpreter  of  a  text  like 
this.  What  should  you  say  were  the  trum- 
pet even  now  to  sound,  and  the  heavens  to 
be  opened,  and  the  Son  of  Man  to  appear  ? 
You  may  speculate  while  at  your  ease  ; 
you  may  discuss  subjects  of  this  kind,  and 
come  to  most  strange  conclusions  ;  but  place 
the  great  throne  before  you  and  your  great 
Judge  on  it — there  is  not  a  godly  man  among 
you,  who  would  not  forget  in  one  moment 
all  his  reasonings.  Every  one  of  you  would 
say,  "  O  let  me  find  mercy  in  this  day  ! 
God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  !"  And 
were  you  in  heaven,  what  would  you  say  ? 
The  same  feeling  would  go  with  you  there. 
]\Iercy  would  no  longer  indeed  be  your 
prayer,  but  it  would  be  your  song,  and  the 
highest  and  sweetest  song  that  you  could 
sing. 

This  scripture  says,  therefore,  to  all  the 
people  of  God  among  us,  Think  more  of 
God's  mercy ;  give  it  a  higher  place  among 
your  blessings;  expect  more  from  it ;  re- 
joice more  in  it ;  make  it  oftener  the  subject 
of  your  praise.  "  O  give  thanks  unto  the 
God  of  gods,  give  thanks  to  the  Lord  of 
lords,  for  his  mercy  endureth  forever." 


And  there  is  another  thought  suircested 
to  us  by  this  scrii)ture — we  a/(  niitst  find 
mercy.  It  is  something  to  be  sought  and 
obtained. 

O  the  folly  of  men  !  They  will  profess 
to  value  mercy  and  hope  for  it,  and  yet 
never  seek  to  make  it  their  own,  never  even 
ask  for  any  interest  in  it.  God's  mercy 
bears  this  inscription  on  it,  written  with 
God's  own  gracious  hand,  "  Ask  and  ye 
shall  have  ;  seek  and  ye  shall  find.  Every 
one  that  asketh,  receiveth  ;  and  every  one 
that  seckcth,  findeth."  O  the  riches  of  his 
goodness  !  but  O  the  perverseness  and  in- 
fatuation of  our  minds !  We  think  the 
terms  he  proposes  hard  ;  we  may  have  liis 
mercy  by  merely  asking  for  and  seeking  it, 
but  we  deem  it  not  worth  the  asking  or 
seeking,  and  claim  it  as  our  own  at  a 
cheaper  rate — without  an  effort  or  a  pray- 
er. This  will  not  do,  brethren.  This  scrip- 
ture tells  you  it  will  not.  It  speaks  of 
mercy,  not  as  a  thing  of  course  even  to  the 
holy  Christian — Paul  implores  it  for  his 
godly  friend  ;  and  in  another  place  he  calls 
on  all  his  fellow-Christians  to  go  with  him 
to  the  throne  of  grace,  that  they  may  obtain 
it.  How  then  can  you  look  for  it  to  come 
to  you  unsought  ?  It  never  will  so  come. 
Nay,  it  will  never  come  to  you  should  you 
seek  it,  unless  you  seek  it  in  God's  own 
prescribed  way — through  the  blood,  and 
rigiiteousness,  and  intercession,  of  his  dear 
Son.  Christ  is  the  treasure-house  of  mercy. 
There  is  an  ocean  of  mercy  for  us  in  him, 
for  the  guiltiest  of  us  and  the  most  comfort- 
less— mercy  that  is  inexhaustible,  bound- 
less, eternal — tender  mercy,  sweet  and 
joyful  mercy — mercy  in  life,  mercy  in 
death,  mercy  in  judgment ;  but  there  is 
not  a  particle  of  mercy  for  any  one  of  the 
sons  of  men  out  of  him.  You  may  talk 
about  it  while  at  a  distance  from  Christ, 
and  you  may  hope  for  it  and  expect  it ;  but 
you  will  no  more  have  it,  than  you  will 
have  a  day  without  the  sun  or  a  stream 
witliout  a  fountain.  And  here  lies  the  real 
value  of  such  a  sermon  as  this.  If  it  does 
us  any  good,  it  will  lead  us  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  It  will  lay  us  in  the  dust 
before  him,  crying,  "  Mercy,  Lord  ;  thy 
mercy ;  mercy  for  a  most  miserable  and 
sinful  soul  ;  mercy  now ;  mercy  in  that 
day !" 


224 


THE  SERVANTS  OF  CHRIST  IN  HEAVEN. 


SERMON  XLVII. 

THE    THIRTEENTH   SUNDAY    AFTER   TRINITY. 

THE  SERVANTS  OF  CHRIST  IN  HEAVEN. 

Revelation  xxii.  3,  4. — "  His  servants  shall  serve 
him,  and  they  shall  see  his  face,  and  his  name 
shall  be  in  their  foreheads." 

If  you  really  love  the  Lord  Jesus,  breth- 
ren, it  is  one  of  your  greatest  griefs  that 
you  are  able  to  render  him  so  little  service. 
You  would  be  as  a  flame  of  fire  before  him, 
but  you  often  feel  that  a  marble  statue 
could  scarcely  be  colder  than  yourselves. 
There  is  however  this  comfort  for  you  un- 
der this  grief.  The  Master  you  serve 
loves  you  so  well,  that  he  delights  in  any 
service  from  you,  however  poor  ;  and  if 
this  be  not  enough,  here  comes  this  text 
and  says,  a  day  is  at  hand  when  the  ser- 
vice you  render  him,  shall  be  all  you  de- 
sire. O  may  that  Spirit  who  tells  us  this 
for  our  comfort,  enable  us  now  to  draw 
comfort  from  it !  May  he  lead  up  our 
thoughts  to  the  heaven  he  dwells  in,  and 
give  us  a  glimpse  into  that  hap'py  world  ! 

Taking  the  words  as  they  occur,  we  may 
notice  in  them — 

I.  The  title  they  give  to  the.  redeemed  in 
heaven — Christ's  servants. 

That  the  evangelist  is  really  speaking 
of  this  happy  people,  there  can  be  no  doubt. 
He  has  just- spoken,  at  the  end  of  the  last 
chapter,  of  those  "  who  are  written  in  the 
Lamb's  book  of  life,"  and  these,  we  know, 
are  not  angels  ;  they  are  sinners  whom 
that  Lamb  has  redeemed  from  among  lost 
men. 

They  were  his  servants  on  earth.  Some- 
times indeed  he  would  not  call  them  so. 
He  called  them  his  friends  and  even  his 
brethren  ;  but  tliis  condescension  of  his  did 
not  alter  the  fact — they  were  his  servants  ; 
and  it  did  not  blind  their  eyes  to  the  fact — 
they  knew  they  were  his  servants,  and  they 
acted  as  such,  and  gloried  in  being  such. 
And  now  they  are  in  heaven,  they  are  his 
servants  still. 

You  must  remember  that  whatever  char- 
acter the  Lord  Jesus  sustains  towards  us 
now,  he  will  sustain  forever.  Is  he  here 
to  us  the  Lamb  that  was  slain,  the  atoning 
Lamb  ?  lie  is  the  same  in  heaven ;  the 
Lamb  still  ;  not  atoning  there,  but  yet  ap- 
pearing there  as  the  great  Atoner,  and 
adored  >as  such     Is  he  our  King  here,  ruling 


over  his  church  with  a  Sovereign's  author- 
ity and  majesty  ?  In  heaven  he  is  a  Sov- 
ereign, and  ever  will  be  ;  he  is  the  Lamb 
on  a  throne  ;  we  shall  still  be  his  subjects. 
Is  he  now  a  Master  to  us,  giving  us  laws 
and  requiring  us  to  obey  them,  and  allot- 
ting us  day  by  day  our  work  and  expect- 
ing us  to  perform  it  ?  He  will  not  lay 
aside  his  claims  on  us  when  he  takes  us  to 
heaven.  No  matter  what  honor  he  puts  on 
us  there,  he  will  put  it  on  us  as  a  Master 
stooping  down  to  a  servant.  Our  place  in 
his  house  may  be  lofty,  and  the  robes  he 
may  give  us  to  wear  may  be  splendid  ;  but 
after  all  they  Avill  be  the  robes  oY  a  ser- 
vant, and  our  lofty  place  will  be  a  servant's 
place  ;  we  shall  stand  in  it  in  a  servant's 
attitude  and  with  a  servant's  obedient,  sub- 
missive mind.  Look  below  us  or  around 
us,  we  shall  be  kings  and  reign  ;  but  look 
above  us,  there  higher  than  we  sits  the 
Lamb  on  his  throne,  and  we  are  kings  no 
longer  ; .  we  bow  down  and  serve.  O  hap- 
py service  !  It  will  not  degrade  us  in  our 
high  estate.  We  are  not  called  in  this  text 
by  any  mean  or  common  name.  Which 
of  us  had  not  rather  be  Christ's  servant  in 
heaven,  than  a  leader  of  angels  there,  or 
the  ruler  of  a  world  ? 

II.  We  find  mentioned  next  in  this  pas- 
sage the  emjihyment  of  the  redeemed  in 
heaven.  They  are  to  be  actually  servants, 
you  perceive,  not  nominally  such.  There 
is  a  service  they  are  to  render  ;  "  His  ser- 
vants shall  serve  him." 

Observe  whom  we  are  to  serve.  The  text 
says  "him  ;"  but  if  we  look  back  to  see 
who  this  is,  we  find  two  persons  mentioned, 
God  and  the  Lamb  ;  yet  here  they  are  not 
spoken  of  as  two,  but  one.  It  is  not  said 
their,  servants,  but  "  his  servants  ;"  and  we 
are  not  to  serve  tliem,  but  "  him."  See 
then  how  naturally  and  clearly  this  truth 
discovers  itself^ — God  and  the  Lamb  are 
one,  and  in  heaven  appear  as  one,  and  are 
served  as  one.  There  is  only  one  throne 
in  heaven,  and  he  who  sits  on  it.  is  "  God 
manifest  in  the  flesh,"  God  in  Christ,  God 
wearing  the  form  he  took  on  himself  at 
Bethlehem,  the  form  he  carried  up  into 
heaven  from  Mount  Olivet  and  has  never 
since  laid  aside.  We  shall  serve  him  in 
the  character  in  which  we  know  him  best 
and  love  him  most,  the  once  suffering,  but 
now  happy,  glorified,  and  triumphant  Son 
of  man. 

As  to  the  nature  of  our  service  in  heav- 


THE  SERVANTS  OF  CHRIST  IN  HEAVEN. 


225 


en,  the  text  says  nothing,  and  we  know  but 
little. 

We  know  partly  how  the  angels  arc  em- 
ployed. They  are  God's  messengers  fly- 
ing" hither  and  thitlier  through  the  universe 
to  execute  God's  will.  He  could  accom- 
plish it  without  them,  i)y  a  word,  by  a  sim- 
ple movement  of  his  mighty  mind  ;  but  lie 
does  not  so  accomplish  it ;  he  condescends 
to  make  his  angels  his  instruments  and  fel- 
low-workers. "  They  do  his  command- 
ments," the  psalmist  says,  "  hearkening 
unto  the  voice  of  his  word."  They  are 
'•  ministers  of  liis,  that  do  his  pleasure." 

Now  it  may  be  that  the  glorified  saints 
are  employed  in  this  manner  ;  that  they  go 
often  side  by  side  with  the  angels  on  errands 
of  love  from  world  to  world.  We  see  tliem 
not  ;  we  think  not  of  their  being  near  us  ; 
but  here  perhaps  they  come,  holding  inter- 
course witii  our  minds,  and  bringing  down 
comfort  and  refreshment  to  us  from  God's 
right  hand.  This  is  possible  ;  it  may  be 
so ;  but  scripture  nowhere  says  it  is  so. 
On  the  contrary,  this  book,  which  speaks 
more  of  heaven  than  all  tlie  other  parts  of 
scripture  together,  seems  to  confine  the  ser- 
vices of  the  redeemed  to  heaven  itself,  and 
the  immediate  presence  and  dwelling  place 
of  the  Lamb  there.  It  always  places  them 
there.  It  often  describes  heaven  as  a  tem- 
ple, and  them  as  worshippers  in  it  and  the 
adoring  priests  of  it.  They  are  "  before 
the  throne  of  God,"  it  says,  "  and  serve 
him  day  and  night  in  his  temple." 

We  are  on  sure  ground  then  when  we 
think  of  our  service  above  as  temple-ser- 
vice ;  as  of  the  same  nature  with  our  ser- 
vice here,  when  the  sabbath  comes  and  we 
assemble  together  in  God's  house,  and  bow- 
down  before  him  and  praise  liim,  admiring 
his  perfections,  magnifying  them,  and  long- 
ing to  make  them  known  wherever  there  is 
a  creature  that  can  know  them.  Think  of 
heaven  as  one  long,  unbroken,  never  end- 
ing sabbatii  ;  and  think  of  yourselves  as 
God's  priests  and  ministers  through  that 
long  sabbath  ;  and  then  perhaps  you  have 
as  correct  an  idea  as  we  can  now  form,  of 
the  nature  of  our  future  service  in  glory. 

Need  1  say,  brethren,  how  well  fitted  a 
redeemed  sinner  must  be  (or  such  an  em- 
l)loyment  as  this  ?  Mercy,  God's  brightest 
perfection  next  to  his  holiness  ;  pardoning 
mercy,  the  highest  exercise  of  that  love 
which  forms,  as  it  were,  God's  essence — it 
13  all  tiieory  to  an  angel.  He  may  admire 
29 


it  and  give  glory  to  God  for  it,  but  not  aa 
one  who  has  felt  and  experienced  it.  If 
the  Lamb  is  to  be  worshipped,  surely  those 
whom  that  Lamb  has  redeemed,  are  the 
fittest  to  worship  him.  Wliile  they  speak 
of  his  power  to  save  as  none  others  can, 
and  sing  of  his  grace  and  love  as  none  but 
they  can  sing  of  them,  they  are  living 
proofs  of  the  might  of  that  power  and  the 
riches  of  that  grace  and  love.  The  mere 
presence  of  a  redeemed  sinner  in  heaven 
seems  enough.  It  is  a  nobler  setting  forth 
of  Jehovah's  glory  than  any  words  could 
be,  than  all  the  songs  of  all  the  angels. 
"  Him  that  overcometh,"  says  our  Lord, 
"  will  I  make  a  pillar,"  a  trophy,  a  monu- 
mental  column,  "  in  the  temple  of  my 
God." 

And  mark  further — the  apostle's  lan- 
jjuaije  intimates  strongly  the  excellence  of 
that  service  we  shall  render  to  God  hereaf- 
ter ;  its  excellence,  I  mean,  as  compared 
with  any  service  we  can  render  him  now. 
"  His  servants  shall  serve  him."  Here 
they  do  not  serve  him.  The  best  they  do, 
is  only  an  attempt  or  effort  to  serve  him. 
It  does  not-merit  tlie  name  of  service.  But 
there,  in  that  higher  woijd,  they  shall  serve 
him  indeed.  Our  worship  of  him  shall  be 
as  different  from  what  it  is  now,  as  we  our- 
selves shall  be  different  from  what  we  are 
now.  We  shall  worship  him  as  we  now 
sometimes  wish  and  long  to  worship  him, 
and  cannot,  and  above  all  we  now  wish  and 
long  to  do  or  have  any  conception  of.  Once 
we  knew  not  how  the  heart  of  a  pardoned 
sinner  can  burn  at  his  Saviour's  feet  here 
on  earth,  and  melt  with  love  to  him  ;  it  was 
all  mvstery  to  us.  .lust  so  now — we 
know  not  how  a  glorified  sinner's  heart  can 
love  his  Saviour  in  Iieaven,  and  how  he 
can  praise  him  there  ;  that  is  still  a  mys- 
tery. Here  we  are  only  preparing  for  this 
bles.sed  work  ;  in  heaven  we  shall  perform 
it.  Here  we  are  only  learners,  we  are 
like  men  endeavoring  to  speak  a  language 
which  is  not  their  own  ;  there,  speaking  in 
a  tongue  become  at  last  familiar  and  easy 
to  us,  we  shall  be  able  to  teach  others  "  the 
wonderful  works  of  God."  Here  our  ser- 
vice is  often  such,  that  a  fellow-creature 
would  not  take  it  at  our  hands  ;  we  should 
he  ashamed  to  offer  it  him  ;  there  it  shall 
be,  we  dare  not  say  worthy  of  the  lofty 
Being  to  whom  we  render  it,  but  such  as  he 
can  receive  with  visible  approbation  and 
pleasure ;  it  shall  be  less  unworthy  of  him 


22G 


THE  SERVANTS  OF  CHRIST  IN  HEAVEN. 


than  any  service  which  was  ever  offered 
him.  It  shall  come  from  creatures  raised 
higher  than  he  ever  raised  any  others,  and 
they  shall  olfer  it  him  in  the  full  perfection 
of  tiieir  nature,  with  the  lull  strength  of 
their  powers.  He  has  loved  them  with  his 
whole  heart  and  his  whole  soul,  and  they 
shall  now  at  last  love  and  praise  him  with 
all  their  heart  and  soul.  "  His  servants 
shall  serve  him,"  serve  him  as  they  never 
did  before,  nor  any  besides  them. 
But  turn  again  to  the  text. 
III.  It  brings  before  us  the  happiness  of 
the  redeemed  while  thus  serving  Christ  in 
heaven. 

Some  of  you  may  say,  "  His  service  will 
be  happiness  enough.  It  must  make  hap- 
py, and  supremely  happy,  all  who  are  en- 
gaged in  it."  And  1  might  answer,  Yes. 
Could  we  so  worship  God  now,  this  present 
world  would  cease  to  be  the  cheerless  world 
we  hnd  it ;  and  as  for  this  house  of  prayer, 
how  would  it  be  changed  !  We  should 
hardly  believe  it  to  he  the  same.  It  would 
be  none  other  to  us  when  the  sabbath  came, 
than  "  the  house  of  God  and  the  gate  of 
(heaven."  But  there  is  something  connect- 
ed with  this  service  above,  which  adds  to 
its  happiness.  "  His  servants  shall  serve 
.him,"  the  text  says,  "  and  they  shall  see 
iiis  face." 

This  is  lohai  every  servant  of  Christ  de- 
sires. I  do  not  mean  that  he  will  desire 
it  hereafter — he  desires  it  now  ;  and  not  as 
he  may  wish  to  see  some  of  his  fellow-ser- 
vants, a  Peter,  or  John,  or  Paul  ;  or  as  you 
may  wish  to  see  this  or  that  great  man  of 
the  earth,  of  whose  fame  you  have  heard  : 
;he  desires  it  ardently,  as  you  would  desire 
to  see  the  friend  of  your  soul,  if  you  had 
but  that  one  friend  and  he  had  been  long 
far  away.  None  but  the  Christian  himself 
can  tell  how  a  Christian  sometimes  longs 
to  see  his  Lord.  Jacob  did  not  so  long  to 
see  his  recovered  Joseph.  The  prisoner  in 
a  dungeon  never  longed  more  to  see  the 
■sun.  He  has  more  than  a  "  desire  to  de- 
part and  be  with  Christ  ;"  his  soul  "  thirst- 
.eth  for  God,  f()r  the  living  God."  Like 
David,  he  thinks  of  him  M'ith  a  holy  impa- 
tience. "  When,"  he  says,  "  shall  I  come 
■and  appear  before  God  ?" 

And  this  too  is  u-hal  Christ  himself  desires. 
'Were  he  God  only,  we  should  hardly  dare 
to  use  language  like  this ;  but  he  is  man 
as  well  as  God,  and  when  he  took  our  na- 
ture with  him  into  heaven,  he  took  with  him 


there  feelings  and  desires  corresponding 
with  many  of  our  own.  There  is  sympa 
thy  between  him  and  his  people.  There 
is  a  oneness  of  feeling  between  them,  only 
the  feelings  of  his  soul  are  deeper  and 
stronger  than  ours.  Do  we  long  to  see  him  ? 
We  may  be  sure  then  that  he  longs  for  us 
to  see  him.  With  a  rapturous  joy  shall  we 
look  on  his  face,  but  not  with  tliat  joy,  that 
exceeding  joy,  with  which  he  will  look  on 
ours.  We  deem  it  the  perfection  of  a  crea- 
ture's happiness  to  behold  his  glory  ;  he 
deems  it  the  perfection  of  his  own  divine 
happiness  to  have  his  people  with  him  where 
he  is,  and  to  show  them  his  glory. 

This  also  is  what  he  has  jyromised  his  ser- 
vants. He  holds  it  out  to  them  as  the  one 
great  recompense  of  their  earthly  services; 
"  If  any  man  serve  me,  let  him  follow  me, 
and  where  I  am,  there  also  shall  my  ser- 
vant be."  He  calls  on  them  to  be  watch- 
ful and  prayerful  in  his  service,  that  they 
may  be  accounted  "  worthy"  hereafter  "  to 
stand  before  the  Son  of  Man." 

And  this  too  is  one  great  end  why  he  he- 
came  the  Son  of  Man,  why  he  took  our  na- 
ture  upon  him  and  embodied  himself  in  oui 
form.  Before,  he  was  the  invisible  God  ; 
no  one  had  seen  him  or  could  see  him  ;  but 
to  redeem  his  people  from  their  iniquities 
and  afterwards  to  reveal  himself  to  them, 
to  dwell  among  them  visibly  in  heaven  and 
thus  increase  their  happiness  by  allowing 
them  to  behold  him  there,  he  prepared  him- 
self a  body.  He  is  now  "  God  manifest  in 
the  flesh,"  and  the  fact  of  l)is  being  so  as- 
sures us,  that  when  we  are  where  his  glori- 
fied body  is,  we  shall  see  him.  We  shall 
"  behold  his  face  in  righteousness."  "  We 
shall  see  him  as  he  is." 

How  delightful,  we  sometimes  think, 
must  it  have  been  for  the  Jewish  high  priest 
to  go  into  the  holy  of  holies  in  the  temple, 
and,  as  he  sprinkled  the  blood  on  the  mer- 
cy-seat, and  the  incense  smoked,  to  look  up 
and  to  behold  him  who  sat  between  the  che- 
rubim  there,  shining  forth  as  though  con- 
scious of  his  presence  and  well  pleased  with 
his  services  !  Well,  says  this  text  to  us, 
when  vou  are  in  heaven,  you  shall  go  into 
the  holy  of  holies.  Your  service  there 
shall  not  be  confined  to  the  outer  court ;  it 
shall  not  be  like  that  of  the  common  priests, 
who  might  go  no  further  than  into  the  holy 
place  ;  you  shall  go,  and  go  when  you  will, 
into  the  holiest  of  all.  When  you  minister, 
it  shall  be  before  the  mercy-seat.     "  Before 


THE  SERVANTS  OF  CHRIST  IX  HEAVEN. 


227 


the  throne,"  within  sight  of  God  and  the 
Lamb — that,  this  apostle  says  in  anotlicr 
place,  is  the  station  of  the  redeemed  who 
"  serve  him  day  and  night  in  his  temple." 
Or  we  may  change  the  metaphor.  Here 
our  service  is  not  in  the  King's  palace.  It 
is  in  his  vineyard,  and  that  lying  in  a  dis- 
tant part  of  his  dominions.  He  comes,  he 
says,  and  overlooks  us,  but  we  do  not  see 
him  come  ;  he  speaks  not  a  word  to  us  ;  he 
holds  no  visible  intercourse  with  us.  Here- 
after he  will  take  us  .from  his  vineyard  to 
his  house.  No  more  outdoor  servants,  we 
shall  serve  him  in  his  glorious  palace  ;  and 
not  there  only,  but  in  "  the  presence  of  his 
glory"  there.  We  shall  be  his  most  favor- 
ed, his  personal  attendants.  Once  far  off 
from  him,  far  as  creatures  can  be,  we  shall 
be  brought  nigh,  and  nigh  as  any  creature 
can  be  brought  to  his  lofty  throne. 

Now,  brethren,  if  you  have  any  Chris- 
tian feeling  in  your  hearts,  you  will  not  re- 
quire to  be  told  that  this  will  heighten  to 
you  heaven's  happiness.  You  feel  that  it 
will  constitute  one  main  part  of  heaven's 
happiness ;  that  nothing  even  there  can  be 
comparable  to  this.  This  puts  a  glory  on 
heaven's  glory.  Without  it,  heaven  would 
be  to  us  as  a  palace  without  a  king  in  it, 
or  a  firmament  without  a  sun. 

And  to  this  sight  of  Christ  in  heaven,  we 
may  trace  partly  the  excellence  of  that  ser- 
vice we  shall  offer  him  there.  What  is  it. 
Christian  brethren,  that  often  makes  our 
worship  here  so  languid  ?  It  is  a  want  of 
this.  We  do  not  see  the  Saviour  we  are 
worshipping,  and  we  have  not  faith  enough, 
or  it  is  not  active  enough,  to  make  us  alive 
to  his  presence  without  our  seeing  it.  When 
we  pray  to  him,  we  have  no  sensible  evi- 
dence that  he  hears  us ;  and  when  we 
praise  him,  we  do  not  know  that  he  listens 
to  us.  We  are  in  the  outer  court.  Be- 
tween us  and  the  shining  of  his  counte- 
nance, there  is  veil  after  veil.  Imagine 
then  all  those  veils  rent  asunder;  conceive 
of  him  for  a  moment  as  becoming  visible 
to  you  here  while  you  pray  to  him,  and  as 
smiling  on  you  when  you  praise  him  ;  and 
then  when  you  go  away  and  try  to  serve 
him  in  the  world,  think  of  him  as  drawing 
near  and  saying  to  you  often  in  your  la- 
bors of  l«ve,  "  Good  and  faithful  servant  of 
mine,  well  done" — would  not  your  prayers 
be  more  earnest,  and  your  praises  more  fer- 
vent, and  your  labors  more  zealous  ?  Trans- 
fer this  to  heaven.     We  shall  see  his  face 


there,  and  that  bright  vision  will  be  ever 
quickening  our  love  for  him,  and  deepening 
our  thankfulness,  and  bringing  us  better 
acquainted  with  his  glorious  perfections, 
and  thus  ever  prompting  us  to  new  and 
higher  efforts  of  adoration.  It  will  keep 
our  happy  spirits  in  full  activity  and  vigor, 
and  not  wear  them  out  while  it  does  so,  but 
sustain  them,  and  strengthen  them,  and  ex- 
pand them,  and  make  them  capable  of  yet 
Iiiglier  efforts  and  nobler  adoration.  "The 
joy  of  the  Lord"  shall  then  indeed  be  "  our 
strength."  His  servants  shall  indeed  serve 
him,  for  "  they  shall  see  his  face." 

IV.  There  is  one  thing  more  in  the  text 
— the  marl:  the  Lord  puts  on  these  happy 
servants,  a  mark  of  honor  with  which  he 
distinguishes  them.  He  stamps  his  name 
on  them  ;  "  His  name  shall  be  in  their  fore- 
heads." 

Several  times  before  in  this  book,  lan- 
guage like  this  occurs.  Once  in  the  third 
chapter.  Speaking  of  "  him  that  overcom- 
eth,"  "I  will  write  upon  him,"  the  Lord 
Jesus  says,  "  the  name  of  my  God  ;  I  will 
write  upon  him  my  new  name."  And 
again,  in  the  fourteenth  chapter,  John  says, 
"  I  looked,  and,  lo,  a  Lamb  stood  on  the 
mount  Sion,  and  with  him  ^n  hundred 
forty  and  four  thousand,  having  his  Father's 
name  written  in  their  foreheads."  In  the 
seventh  chapter,  he  speaks  of  "  the  servants 
of  our  God,  who  are  sealed  in  their  fore- 
heads." Just  as  we  write  our  name  on 
any  thing,  or  seal  it  with  our  seal,  to  let 
others  know  that  it  is  ours,  so  will  Christ 
own  his  people  in  heaven  ;  he  will  write 
his  name  on  them,  and  write  it  conspicuous- 
ly, as  though  he  delighted  to  own  them. 

To  understand  this,  we  must  recollect 
that  the  name  of  God  often  signifies  his 
perfections  or  character.  It  bears  this 
meaning  because  his  perfections  are  pecu- 
liar to  him  and  distinguish  him  from  all 
others,  as  our  names  distinguish  or  identify 
us  :  we  are  known  by  them.  For  any  one 
then  to  have  God's  name  on  him,  is  to  have 
the  same  character  as  God*  to  bear  a  re- 
semblance to  him,  to  have  what  we  call  his 
image  and  likeness.  And  all  God's  ser- 
vants  even  on  earth  are  thus  distinguished. 
"  If  any  man  have  not  the  spirit  of  Christ," 
we  read,  "he  is  none  of  his."  When  we 
become  his,  there  is  a  conformity  to  Christ 
wrought  in  us  by  the  power  of  the  Holy- 
Ghost,  and  this  is  Christ's  mark  or  name 
upon  us.     But  then  here  this  mark  is  often 


228 


THE  SERVANTS  OF  CHRIST  IN  HEAVEN. 


scarcely  visible.  This  conformity  to  Christ 
is  imperfect,  and  it  is  marred  by  our  many 
infirmities.  It  is  like  an  inscription  on  a 
monumental  column  obscurely  written,  or 
half  defaced,  and  covered  too  with  weeds 
and  sand.  The  ordinary  traveller  passes 
by  and  never  sees  it.  None  but  he  who  is 
looking  for  such  inscriptions,  discovers  it. 
Thus  our  relation  to  Christ  as  his  people 
and  servants,  is  now  in  a  great  measure 
hidden.  The  new  name  is  given  when  the 
white  stone  of  absolution  is  given,  but  "  no 
man  knoweth  it  saving  he  that  receiveth 
it."  But  in  heaven,  says  the  text,  this 
name  shall  be  "  in  our  foreheads."  The 
meaning  is,  our  relation  to  Christ  shall  be 
open  and  apparent.  Every  one  who  sees 
us,  shall  see  that  we  are  his  servants,  and 
see  it  by  discovering  in  us  readily  and  at 
once  our  resemblance  to  him.  There  will 
be  an  outward  conformity  to  him  on  us,  as 
well  as  a  spiritual  conformity  to  him  within 
us.  We  shall  wear  the  same  form,  as 
well  as  have  the  same  heart.  We  shall 
be  changed  into  his  glorious  image  ;  and 
this  will  let  angels  and  archangels  know, 
and  all  the  creatures  in  the  universe,  whose 
we  are  and  whom  we  serve.  Thus  St. 
Paul  speaks  in  Romans  viii.  of  a  "  mani- 
festation" or  discovery  "  of  the  sons  of 
God,"  which  is  to  take  place  in  heaven, 
and  how  is  this  to  be  brought  about  ?  He 
has  just  told  us  in  the  preceding  verse — by 
a  glory  which  is  to  be  "  revealed  in  them," 
by  an  excellency  imparted  to  them  and  shi- 
ning forth.  And  St.  John  in  one  of  his 
epistles,  not  only  connects,  as  here,  this 
visible  resemblance  to  Christ  with  the  sight 
of  him,  he  makes  it  the  consequence  of  a 
sight  of  him  ;  "  We  know  that  when  he 
shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  him,  for  we 
shall  see  him  as  he  is." 

Will  this  blessedness,  brethren,  ever  rest 
on  you  and  me  ?  Shall  we  be  among 
these  happy  men  who  thus  serve  the  Lord 
in  heaven,  and  see  his  face,  and  have  his 
name  on  tiiem  ?  I  know  not  your  feelings 
when  a  question  like  this  is  asked  you,  but 
I  know  what  tho.se  of  a  minister  of  Christ 
might  be  as  he  stands  here  and  asks  it. 
"  O  what  matters  it  to  this  people  what 
heaven  is,  if  they  are  never  to  be  there  ? 
Why  describe  to  them  a  world  which  they 
have  never  been  tauglit  to  seek  ?  There 
are  those  on  your  right  hand  and  on  your 
left,  who  are  getting  further  and   further 


from  heaven  every  year  they  live,  and 
caring  less  for  it."  And  then  comes  this 
thought  into  such  a  minister's  mind — "  1 
will  never  preach  of  heaven  again.  I  will 
speak  only  of  the  world  and  its  vanity,  of 
sin  and  its  misery,  of  death  and  its  near- 
ness, of  judgment  and  its  awfulness,  of 
hell  and  its  terrors."  Of  these  things  you 
have  heard  nothing  to-day,  but  let  me  tell 
you  before  you  leave  these  doors,  they  are 
as  real  as  though  every  sermon  you  heard 
were  concerning  them,  and  every  friend 
you  met  spoke  to  you  of  them.  No  matter 
what  heaven  is,  if  you  are  the  world's 
slaves  or  the  slaves  of  sin,  you  will  never 
see  it.  All  the  happiness  you  will  eve 
know,  you  will  have  in  this  world  ;  yes,  in 
this  dreary  world  in  which  hitherto  you 
have  souglit  so  much  and  found  so  little. 
You  will  soon  die,  and  be  lost  to  happiness 
forever. 

I  have  preached  this  sermon  to  help  a 
few  here  who  are  really  going  to  heaveu; 
to  forget  for  an  hour  their  cares  and  troub- 
les in  the  way  to  it  ;  and  to  stir  them  up  to 
think  more  of  their  heavenly  home,  and 
look  more  closely  at  it,  and  seek  to  be  bet- 
ter fitted  for  it.  I  may  have  failed  in  this 
object.  Those  men  may  go  away  as  bur- 
dened  and  cast  down  as  they  came.  Bui 
if,  through  God's  mighty  grace,  some  one 
here  who  is  not  in  the  way  to  heaven, 
should  be  led  to-day  to  stop  and  ask  him- 
self whither  he  is  going;  to  inquire,  if  he 
does  not  serve  Christ  in  eternity,  what  he 
shall  do  there ;  if  he  docs  not  see  his  face, 
what  he  shall  see  ;  if  he  is  not  like  him, 
whom  he  shall  be  like  ;  and  if  that  man 
should  go  home,  and  fly  to  his  chamber, 
and  fall  down  before  God,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  supplicate  his  mercy,  this 
would  be  better  than  as  though  every  heir 
of  heaven  in  this  place  went  away  rejoicing. 
Brethren,  there  are  some  of  you  whom 
those  that  preacii  to  you  would  delight  to 
comfort,  but  we  would  pass  you  by  and 
gladly,  if  we  could  but  strike  home  to  the 
hearts  of  others  sitting  by  your  side  ;  if  we 
could  but  make  them  i'vel  that  they  have 
sins  to  be  pardoned  and  immortal  souls  to 
be  saved.  O  to  bo  the  instrument  in  (jod's 
hand  of  making  the  slave  of  Satan  the  ser- 
vant of  Christ !  Pray  for  your  ministers 
that  this  happiness  may  be  theirs.  You 
could  not  ask  for  thorn,  or  your  neighbors, 
or  yourselves,  a  higher  blessing. 


THE  TEN  LEPERS 


229 


SERMON  XLVIII. 

THE  FOURTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITV. 

THE  TEN  LEPERS. 

St.  Luke  xvii.  15,  16. — "And  one  of  them,  when 
he  saw  that  he  was  healed,  turned  back,  and 
with  a  loud  voice  glorified  God,  and  fell  down 
on  his  face  at  his  feet,  giving  him  thanks." 

Among  the  peculiar  blessings  we  enjoy 
in  this  country,  there  is  one  we  seldom 
tliink  of  till  we  have  been  in  other  coun- 
tries. I  allude  to  our  freedom  from  those 
loathsome  diseases  with  which  many  otlier 
lands  are  afflicted.  Think  for  instance  of 
Switzerland.  The  traveller  admires  its 
beautiful  valleys,  and  gazes  with  wonder 
on  its  magnificent  mountains,  but  he  can 
traverse  scarcely  a  mile  of  either  without 
being  pained  to  the  very  soul  by  the  mala- 
dies of  its  inhabitants.  The  chapter  before 
us  places  us  in  Palestine,  at  the  entrance 
of  one  of  its  villages  ;  and  what  does  it 
show  us  there  ?  Not  one  man,  but  ten 
men  in  one  company  all  lepers,  all  suffer- 
ing from  a  hideous  disease  of  which  we  in 
this  country  know  nothing.  Thankfulness 
then  for  something  like  a  great  national 
mercy,  is  one  thing  taught  us  by  this  scrip- 
ture. But  there  is  a  leprosy  of  the  soul  as 
well  as  of  the  body,  and  we  do  know  here 
what  this  is.  We  are  all  afflicted  with  it, 
and  have  been  ever  since  we  were  born. 
God  grant  that  before  we  die,  we  may  all 
seek  and  find  that  great  remedy  which  only 
can  heal  it  ! 

We  may  divide  the  history  before  us  into 
four  parts — the  application  of  these  men  to 
our  Lord  for  relief,  the  cure  they  received, 
the  thankfulness  of  one  of  them,  and  the 
unthankfiilness  of  all  the  rest. 

I.  Their  app/icat/on  appears  to  have  been 
unanimous.  The  whole  ten  sought  at  once 
relief,  and  relief  from  the  same  quarter. 
They  all  joined  in  one  common  nrayer  to 
our  Lord,  crying  with  one  voice,  "  Jesus, 
Master,  have  mercy  on  us." 

And  it  was  earnest.  "  They  lifted  up 
their  voices"  as  they  made  it.  showing  that 
they  were  extremely  anxious  fir  relief,  and 
determined,  if  possible,  to  obtain  it. 

It  was  also  respectful  and  humble.  They 
"  stood  afar  off."  The  law  indeed  requi- 
red them  as  lepers  to  keep  separate  from 
others,  but  they  might  have  said,  "  We 
may  disregard  the  law  in  this  case.     That 


jnerciful  Jesus  is  not  like  other  men  ;  he 
will  allow  any  one  to  approach  liim.  And 
the  nearer  we  get  to  him,  the  more  likely 
we  shall  be  to  arrest  his  attention  and  to 
succeed."  But  they  did  not  approach  him. 
They  treated  him  with  as  much  respect,  as 
though  he  had  been  the  severest,  rather 
than  the  kindest  being  in  the  world. 

Would,  brethren,  tliat  this  congregation 
were  like  this  company  of  afilicted  men  ! 
We  should  be  so,  if  we  felt  our  disease  as 
they  felt  theirs.  Their  leprosy,  had  disfig- 
ured them,  had  polluted  them  ;  it  had  cut 
them  off  from  all  society  except  with  mis- 
erable beings  like  themselves  ;  it  had  ex- 
cluded them  from  the  city,  and  temple,  and 
special  presence,  of  their  God.  They  knew 
this  and  felt  this.  It  was  their  conscious- 
ness of  this  and  their  misery  under  it, 
which  led  them  with  one  heart  and  voice 
so  earnestly  to  implore  Christ's  mercy. 
And  did  we  know  what  mischief  sin  has 
done  us,  how  it  has  tainted,  deformed,  and 
degraded  our  souls,  robbing  us  of  all  the 
higher  blessings  of  our  nature,  cutting  us 
off  from  the  communion  of  holy  and  happy 
creatures,  and,  worse  still,  banishing  us 
from  all  fellowship  with  our  God — did  we 
understand  and  really  feel  this,  I  could  tell 
you,  brethren,  what  in  one  instant  would 
be  the  consequence — there  would  go  up 
from  every  heart  here,  piercing  the  heav- 
ens, just  that  prayer,  that  united,  earnest, 
humble  prayer,  which  burst  forth  from 
these  men  in  Samaria,  "  Jesus,  Lord,  have 
mercy  on  us.''  Turn  to  your  prayer-books. 
We  say  there  in  our  general  confession, 
"  There  is  no  health  in  us,"  we  are  all  dis- 
eased and  thoroughly  diseased  men  ;  and 
what  are  we  taught  to  say  the  very  next 
moment  ?  "  O  Lord,  have  mercy  upon 
us,  miserable  offenders." 

II.  We  may  look  now  at  the  cure  these 
men  received.  And  here  we  shall  find 
something  to  admire  both  in  the  men  them- 
selves and  also  in  our  Lord. 

Turn,  first,  to  our  Lord. 

Here  is  a  wonderful  manifestation  of  his 
power.  We  generally  speak  of  this  as 
one  miracle  ;  it  was  rather  ten  miracles 
performed  in  one  and  the  same  moment. 
These  lepers  were  all  cleansed,  and  cleans- 
ed, not  one  after  another,  but  together : 
they  all  shared  in  the  same  instant  the 
same  great  mercy.  And  this  reminds  us 
of  the  apostle's  words,  "  The  some  Lord 
overall  is  rich  unto  all  that  call  upon  him." 


230 


THE  TEN  LEPERS. 


He  is  a  rich  Saviour,  rich  in  mercy  and 
rich  in  power.  Were  we  all  this  moment 
to  call  upon  him,  he  could  show  mercy  to 
us  all  as  easily  as  to  one,  and  as  much 
mercy  to  us  all  as  though  he  had  to  help 
only  one.  His  blood  is  powerful  enough  to 
cleanse  us  all,  his  grace  abundant  enough 
to  sanctify  and  comfort  us  all,  his  strength 
mighty  enough  to  keep  us  all,  his  heart  large 
enough  to  love  us  all,  and  his  heaven  spa- 
cious enough  to  receive  us  all.  We  call 
him  a  great  Saviour  and  a  mighty  Saviour, 
but  he  is  more — he  is  an  omnipotent,  in- 
finite Saviour.  "  He  is  able  to  save  them 
to  the  uttermost,  that  come  unto  God  by 
him."  A  universe  of  praying  sinners 
could  not  e.xhaust  his  power  to  save.  He 
could  save  and  he  could  satisfy  them  to 
the  full,  and  yet  still  be  able  to  save  and 
satisfy  millions  more,  "  able  to  do  exceed- 
ing abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask  or 
think." 

And  turn  from  our  Lord  to  llie  imploring 
men  lefore  him.  Their  conduct  corre- 
sponds beautifully  with  his  greatness. 

To  understand  it,  you  must  remember 
that  whenever  a  leper  was  healed,  he  was 
required  by  the  Jewish  law  to  go  immedi- 
ately to  one  of  the  priests,  that  the  reality 
of  his  cure  might  be  ascertained  and 
certain  sacrifices  and  oiTerings  made  for 
him.  The  command  therefore  of  Christ  to 
these  lepers,  must  have  been  a  severe  trial 
of  their  faith  and  obedience.  "  Go  show 
yourselves  unto  the  priests" — it  was  like 
telling  them  with  their  miserable  disease 
still  upon  them,  that  they  were  healed  men, 
and  bidding  them  act  as  such.  And  they 
did  act  as  such.  "  We  dare  not  go,"  they 
might  have  said,  "  in  a  condition  like  this. 
The  priests  will  think  we  are  mocking 
them."  But  with  a  child-like  faith  and  a 
child-like  obedience  they  did  as  they  were 
commanded,  and  they  had  their  reward,  an 
immediate  reward  ;  "  it  came  to  pass  that 
as  they  went,  they  were  cleansed." 

And  thus  does  the  Lord  our  Saviour  al- 
ways honor  sooner  or  later  a  simple  faith 
in  him,  and  that  simple  obedience  to  him 
to  which  such  a  faith  leads.  These  things 
are  the  sure  way  to  every  mercy.  Are 
we  s:,eeking  of  him  tlic  healing  of  a  diseas- 
ed  soul  ?  longing  to  bo  saved  by  him  from 
the  guilt  and  power  of  sin  ?  All  we  need 
for  our  healing,  is  to  take  him  sim|)ly  at  his 
word  ;  to  cast  all  reasoning  aside,  and  to 
seek    his  salvation  throu<di  the  means  he 


prescribes  to  us.  Does  he  say,  "  Believe 
and  be  saved  ?"  We  must  not  stop  to  ask 
how  faith  can  save  us  ;  we  must  not  begin 
to  tell  hini  of  our  unworthiness  and  our 
unfitness  for  salvation.  Our  answer  must 
rather  be,  "  O  let  me  believe,  that  I  may 
be  saved.  Lord,  help  me  to  believe. 
Enable  me  to  take  thy  much  needed,  thy 
longed  for  mercy,  as  freely  as  thou  dosi 
offer  it." 

And  acting  thus  we  are  sometimes  aston- 
ished to  find  what  a  speedy  way  this  proves 
to  the  blessing  we  are  seeking.  "  We 
shall  be  healed  perhaps  when  we  get  to 
the  priests,"  these  lepers  might  say  ;  but 
they  were  healed  on  the  road,  before  they 
came  near  the  priests.  So  the  Lord  often 
surprises  the  sinner,  the  willing  and  obedi- 
ent sinner,  by  overtaking  him,  as  it  were, 
with  his  mercy.  The  man  is  looking  for 
it  at  some  distant  period,  but  he  finds,  to  his 
wonder  and  joy,  that  it  is  already  his. 
Some  of  you  perhaps  can  look  back  to  a 
time,  when,  wretched  with  a  sense  of  guilt, 
you  resolved  to  seek  of  a  bleeding  Saviour 
pardon  and  consolation.  You  heard  the 
command,  "  Look  unto  me  and  be  ye 
saved,"  and  "  We  will  look,"  you  said, 
"  and  we  will  hope  that  before  we  die  par- 
don and  salvation  may  be  ours  ;"  but  what 
followed  ?  In  some  happy  moment,  long 
before  you  anticipated,  almost  before  you 
imagined  you  had  cast  one  real  look  on 
that  Saviour,  you  discovered  that  he  was 
your  Saviour.  You  could  scarcely  believe 
it,  but  you  felt,  like  these  lepers,  that  as 
you  went,  you  were  cleansed. 

in.  We  come  next  to  the  tlianJcfulness 
manifested  ly  one  of  these  healed  men.  It 
is  described  in  the  text ;  "  When  he  saw 
that  he  was  healed,  he  turned  back,  and 
with  a  loud  voice  glorified  God,  and  fell 
down  on  his  face  at  his  feet,  giving  him 
thanks" — a  beautiful  picture  of  genuine 
Christian  thankfulness,  of  that  thankful- 
ness which  distinguishes  a  cleansed,  par- 
doned sinner  from  every  other  being  in  the 
world. 

"  When  he  saw  that  he  was  healed,  he 
turned  back."  His  thankfulness  therefore 
was  profnpt.  It  was  felt  and  manifested  at 
once.  "  You  are  sent  to  the  priests,"  the  ' 
others  might  have  told  bin),  and  perhaps 
did  tell  him  :  "  go  to  them  first.  Tiie  law 
requires  it ;  that  great  Jesus  who  has  heal- 
ed us,  has  bidden  it."  But  the  man'a 
heart  was  too  full    for  this.     His  misery 


THE  TEN  LEPERS. 


231 


could  not  make  him  unmindful  of  ceremo- 
ny, but  mercy  doos.  He  breaks  away 
from  bis  companions,  and  comes  at  once 
to  our  Lord. 

And  it  was  a  warm,  hearty,  earnest 
tbaukfulncss,  that  he  manifested.  It  was 
like  bis  prayer.  He  had  before  lifted  up 
his  voice  as  he  cried  for  mercy,  he  now 
lifts  it  up  again  as  he  gives  praise  for  mer- 
cy ;  "  With  a  loud  voice  he  glorified  God." 
Shall  we  say  that  he  had  caught  already 
the  fervor  of  heaven  ?  Again  and  again 
we  are  told  in  the  book  of  Revelation,  that 
it  is  with  '•  a  loud  voice,"  with  all  the  en- 
ergy of  their  burning  souls,  tliat  the  re- 
deemed there  praise  and  adore.  Real 
praise  is  no  cold,  formal,  decent  thing  ;  it 
is  a  glowing  thing,  one  of  the  strongest  and 
liveliest  emotions  the  human  soul  knows. 

And  tiiis  leper's  thankfulness  was  hiimhle 
and  reverentidl,  more  so,  observe,  than  even 
his  prayer.  When  he  cried  for  mercy,  he 
stood  ;  when  he  gives  thanks  for  mercy, 
he  falls  down  on  his  face. 

Here  again  is  the  spirit  of  heaven.  In 
the  seventh  chapter  of  the  Revelation,  the 
angels  are  described  as  "  standing  round 
about  the  throne,"  but  now  the  song  of 
blessing  and  thanksgiving  is  about  to  burst 
from  them,  and  where  are  they  ?  They 
are  no  longer  standing,  they  are  fallen 
"  before  the  throne  on  their  faces,  worship- 
ping God." 

And  liere  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of 
heartfelt  religion.  You  must  feel  this, 
brethren,  before  you  can  understand  it. 
To  tell  you  that  a  consciousness  of  guilt 
and  unworthiness  humbles  the  soul,  is  to 
tell  you  nothing  strange.  You  see  that  it 
must  be  so.  But  we  can  tell  you  tiiat  a  j 
consciousness  of  mercy,  of  pardoning,  j 
healing  mercy,  humbles  the  soul  tenfold; 
more.  It  melts  a  man's  heart  within  him.  j 
"  She  stood  at  his  feet  behind  him  weeping,  1 
and  began  to  wash  his  feet  with  tears,  and  1 
did  wipe  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head, ! 
and  kissed  his  feet ;"  and  why  ?  Because  ] 
she  was  a  sinner  and  wanted  forgiveness  ? 
No,  because  she  was  a  sinner  and  had 
found  forgiveness.  This  woman  had  tast- 1 
ed  of  pardoning  love,  and  tliat  had  thus  I 
softened,  humbled,  and  melted  her.  "I 
am  the  chief  of  sinners,"  said  Paul  ;  and 
when  did  he  say  so  ?  When  he  was  struck  j 
to  the  ground  on  the  road  to  Damascus,  | 
and  was  im|)loring  with  terror  the  perse-  ] 
cuted  Saviour's  mercy  ?     Jt  was  when  he  \ 


knew  that  he  had  "  obtained  mercy  ;" 
when  the  grace  of  that  Saviour  had  been 
"  exceeding  abundant"  towards  him,  and 
made  him  a  wonder  and  "  a  pattern"  of 
mercy  to  the  whole  church.  Can  you  un- 
derstand this,  brethren  ?  Then  bless  (iod 
that  you  can.  It  is  his  d'istinguishing  grace, 
that  has  enabled  you  to  understand  it. 
We  must  not  put  a  leeling  like  this  on  a 
par  with  a  holy  and  heavenly  life  as  an 
evidence  of  our  personal  religion,  but  an 
abiding  feeling  like  this  will  perhaps  sel- 
dom or  never  be  found  except  in  connec- 
tion with  a  holy  and  heavenly  life.  The 
man  who  has  it  within  him,  will  have 
much  more  within  him,  that  savors  of 
heaven.  We  may  say  of  such  a  man 
with  little  risk  of  mistake,  he  is  not  far 
from  the  kingdom  of  God. 

The  thankfulness  of  this  man  wasf/era- 
led  also.  It  was  accompanied  with  high 
thoughts  of  God,  and  a  setting  forth,  as  far 
as  he  was  able,  of  God's  glory.  He  is 
said  in  the  text  to  have  "  glorified  God." 

And  observe  how  he  blends  together  in 
his  thankfulness  God  and  Christ.  He 
glorifies  the  one,  and  at  the  same  time  he 
falls  down  before  the  other,  giving  him 
thanks.  Did  he  then  look  on  our  Lord  in 
his  real  character,  as  God  ?  Perhaps  he 
did.  The  wonderful  cure  he  had  received 
in  his  body,  might  have  been  accompanied 
with  as  wonderful  an  outpouring  of  grace 
and  light  into  his  mind.  It  might  have 
made  liim  feel  that  his  great  Healer  was  a 
far  higher  being  than  he  had  before  con- 
sidered him,  none  other  than  the  incarnate 
Jehovah.  But  let  this  have  been  as  it  may, 
God  and  Christ,  God's  glory,  and  Christ's 
mercy,  were  so  blended  together  in  his 
mind,  that  lie  could  not  separate  them. 
Neither,  brethren,  can  you  separate  them, 
if  you  know  any  thing  aright  of  Christ  and' 
his  mercy.  Whatever  mercy  the  Lord 
Jesus  shows  you,  will  be  sure  to  enlarge 
your  views  of  God's  glory.  You  will  feel 
it  to  be  Godlike  mercy  ;  and  you  will  feel 
too  that  he  who  has  given  it  you  and  made 
it  yours,  take  what  form  he  may,  though 
he  trod  our  world  as  the  Son  of  Man  and 
appears  now  in  heaven  as  the  Son  of  Man, 
is  and  must  be  none  other  than  the  living 
God.  Your  soul  will  rise  up  to  contemplate 
and  adore  him  as  such.  You  will  delight 
in  his  Godhead  and  greatness.  Were  you 
able,  you  would  make  his  name  glorious 
through   all    the    world.       "  He   glorified 


232 


THE  TE-N  LEPERS. 


God" — never  deem  your  thankfulness  gen- 
uine, till  it  takes  this  lofty  character;  till 
you  see  and  show  that  the  mercies  you  are 
thankful  for,  come  from  Jehovah,  and  bear 
on  them  the  stamp  of  his  majesty  and 
love. 

IV.  We  must  pass  on  now  to  our  last 
point — the  nnlhankfulness  of  the  other  lepers. 

The  man  we  have  been  looking  at,  is 
called  "  a  Samaritan"  and  "a  stranger." 
He  was  not  exactly  a  heathen,  but  he  be- 
longed to  a  poo[)le  whom  the  Jews  regarded 
as  little  better  than  heathens.  They  were 
"  aliens  from  the  commonwealth  of  Israel," 
had  no  share  in  its  peculiar  privileges,  and 
had  often  mingled  the  worship  of  idols  with 
that  of  the  true  God.  When  therefore  we 
see  this  man  thus  full  of  grateful  feelings 
at  the  Redeemer's  feet,  we  may  well  ask 
with  our  Lord,  Where  are  his  companions  ? 
"  Where  are  the  nine  ?"  They  were  pro- 
bably all  Jews,  all  superior  in  spiritual  ad- 
vantages to  this  Samaritan,  but  where  are 
they  ?  They  are  healed  and  gone,  gone 
without  one  word  of  thankfulness  to  him 
who  lias  healed  them.  While  this  stranger 
is  glorifying  God  and  adoring  Christ,  they 
are  on  their  way  to  the  priests,  performing 
a  few  heartless  ceremonies  perhaps  for  a 
little  while  with  them  in  the  temple,  and 
then  hurrying  home  to  their  families  and 
friends,  forgetting  their  Benefactor,  or  if 
not  forgetting  him,  putting  off  their  acknow- 
ledgments to  h-im,  contenting  themselves 
with  saying,  "  We  will  go  and  thank  him 
another  day."  How  mournful  was  this, 
and  yet  how  common  is  it ! 

We  have  just  been  looking  at  a  picture 
of  a  real  Christian,  a  man  of  God.  He  is  a 
rare  character,  one  often.  We  have  now 
before  us  a  picture  of  the  world  at  large, 
the  Christian  world,  of  those  who  profess  to 
know  Christ,  and  to  have  sought  and  found 
his  mercy.  Well  may  we  say  again,  it  is 
a  mournful  picture. 

There  is  amazing  ingratitude,  bn^thren, 
in  the  human  heart.  It  is  one  of  the  last 
things  that  give  way  before  the  grace  of 
God.  Men  seem  as  though  thoy  could  do 
any  thing,  rather  than  be  really  thankful 
when  (rod  is  their  Benefactor.  They  will 
seek  Christ  or  appear  to  seek  him  ;  wluii 
in  fear  or  sufR'ring,  they  will  lift  up  tlicir 
voice  like  those  lepers,  and  cry  for  his  mer- 
cy ;  in  prayer  and  earnestness,  they  will 
seem  for  a  time  all  that  sinful,  porishino' 
creatures  should    be  :   but   thcv  caiuiot   be 


got  further.  Nothing  can  make  them  thank- 
ful. When  God  is  to  be  glorified  and  the 
blessed  Jesus  praised,  the  difference  be- 
tween them  and  the  real  Christian  becomes 
manifest — they  have  the  world  to  serve; 
they  have  self  to  indulge;  the  Samaritan 
may  turn  aside  to  show  his  thankfulness  to 
his  Lord,  but  not  they.  Brethren,  have 
you  passed  this  turning  point?  I  am  not 
asking  you  now  whether  you  have  felt  your 
misery  as  sinners,  and  sought  of  Christ 
mercy.  This  you  may  have  done  or  think 
you  have  done.  But  I  ask,  what  power 
has  mercy  over  you  ?  Has  it  softened  you, 
humbled  you,  made  you  inwardly,  deeply 
thankful  ?  Has»it  so  warmed  your  hearts, 
that,  let  what  will  stand  in  the  wav,  you 
must  get  out  of  the  crowd  to  give  thanks  to 
your  Saviour  and  glorify  your  God  ?  Are 
you  singular  in  the  world  ?  singular,  not 
for  the  religious  profession  you  make  or  the 
religious  privileges  you  enjoy,  but  for  your 
readiness  to  lay  down  yourselves  and  all 
you  possess  at  your  Saviour's  feet,  to  con- 
secrate all  you  have  and  are  to  your  Sa- 
viour's glory  ?  You  may  tell  me  that  this 
is  taking  very  lofty  ground  :  but,  beloved 
brethren,  we  must  take  lofty  ground,  if  we 
would  be  the  true  disciples  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  He  is  a  lofty  Saviour,  and 
has  prepared  for  his  people  a  lofty  world. 
You  and  I  must  get  something  like  a  lofty 
spirit,  if  we  expect  to  see  his  face  or  dwell 
in  his  world.  It  is  useless  to  say,  "  We 
are  all  unthankful  ;  the  Lord  pardon  us." 
If  we  continue  unthankful,  the  Lord  will 
not  pardon  us.  What  does  he  say  of  the 
heathen?  "They  are  without  excuse;" 
and  why  without  excuse  ?  "Because  that 
when  they  knew  God,  they  glorified  him 
not  as  God,  neither  were  thankful."  He 
notices  the  thanklessness  of  the  very  hea- 
then, of  strangers,  and  condemns  them  for 
it.  How  will  he  ever  look  over  the  un- 
thankfulness  of  those  who  call  th(^mselves 
his  servants  and  his  children  ? 

And  here  the  heart  of  the  real  Christian 
smites  him.  He  hears  of  thankfulness,  hut 
"  Where,"  he  says,  "is  my  thankfulness  ?" 
He  looks  at  this  cleansed  leper  prostrate  in 
fervent  thanksgiving  before  his  Lord,  and 
•'Who  and  what  ami?"  he  says  iiLrain. 
"  That  nian"s  nirrcics  nvc  nothing  i-oiu- 
pared  with  nn'ne,  and  yet  how  great  the 
difference  between  him  and  me  !  Ilis  praise 
seems  to  come  from  him  as  though  it  n)ust 
come,  U's  though  he  could    not  restrain   it  ; 


DAVID'S  CONFIDENCE  IN  THE  PROSPECT  OF  THE  FUTURE. 


233 


whereas  mine  will  scarcely  come  at  all.  I 
am  often  cold  as  a  stone  towards  the  blessed 
Jesus,  and  generally  the  praise  lotrerhini, 
is  an  attempt  at  praise,  rather  than  any 
thing  else.  It  is  only  at  intervals,  and  those 
of  short  continuance,  that  my  soul  really 
magnifies  the  Lord  my  Saviour."  And  it 
is  well,  brethren,  to  be  thus  reminded  of 
our  strange  insensibility.  It  makes  us  feel 
anew  our  utter  sinfulness,  and  this  feeling 
brings  us  anew  to  Christ  for  pardon  and 
cleansing.  Again  the  prayer  goes  up.,  "Je- 
sus, Lord,  have  mercy  on  us;"  and  then 
comes  again  a  sense  of  his  pardoning  mer- 
cy, and  with  it  comes  the  warm  and  prais- 
ing heart.  We  are  kept  from  going  away 
with  the  nine.  We  may  not  be  all  that 
this  thankful  Samaritan  was,  but  like  him 
we  are  willing  to  separate  ourselves  from 
others  that  we  may  glorify  Christ ;  we  feel 
that  whatever  others  do,  we  must  glorify 
him  ;  and  ask  us  what  we  long  for  most,  it 
is  for  that  happy  hour  when  we  shall  indeed 
fall  down  on  our  face  at  his  feet,  giving 
him  thanks. 


SERMON  XLIX. 

THE    FIFTEENTH    SUNDAY    AFTER    TRINITY. 

DAVID'S  CONFIDENCE   IN  THE  PROSPECT 
OF  THE  FUTURE. 

Psalm  xxni.  1. — "  /  shall  not  want." 

Simple  as  these  words  are,  how  few  of 
us  could  feelingly  utter  thpm  !  They  indi- 
cate a  state  of  mind,  for  which  our  hearts 
often  and  greatly  long,  but  which  we  find 
hard  to  attain,  and  when  attained,  harder 
still  to  keep — a  being  careful  for  nothing,  a 
state  of  quietness  and  repose.  And  this 
tranquillity  goes  through  the  whole  psalm. 
The  man  who  wrote  it,  seems  to  have  been 
without  an  anxiety  or  a  fear.  "  I  shall  not 
want,"  he  says  at  first  ;  and  then  a  little 
after,  "  I  will  fear  no  evil  ;"  and  then  again, 
"  I  shall  never  be  forsaken.  Surely  good- 
ness and  mprcy  shall  follow  me  all  the  days 
of  my  life." 

I  need  not  say  that  this  is  a  happy  frame 
of  mind.  Thore  is  no  real  happiness  for 
us  in  any  other.  The  only  question  is. 
Where  dops  it  come  from  ?  How  may  we 
get  it?  The  psalm  will  tell  us.  It  lays 
30 


opon  the  thoughts  and  feelings  wliicn  were 
in  David's  mind  when  David  .said,  "  1  shall 
not  want,"  and  thus  discloses  to  us  in  those 
thoughts  and  feelings,  the  secret  springs  of 
that  composure  which  he  enjoyed.  May 
God  grant  that  in  contemplating  the  peace 
of  his  soul,  our  own  souls  may  find  peace  ! 
Some  of  us  greatly  desire  this  blessinir,  and 
there  is  this  fact  for  our  encouragemt  nt — 
this  scripture  was  written  to  communicate 
it.  It  was  written,  not  to  save  the  soul,  but 
to  quiet  it ;  not  to  carry  it  to  a  world  of 
glory,  but  to  ease  it  of  its  burdens  and  make 
it  happy  in  a  world  of  misery. 

Our  subject  then  is  repose  of  mind  as  to 
the  future,  a  freedom  from  cares  and  anxie- 
ties ;  and  not  the  nature  or  advantages  of 
this,  but  simply  its  grounds.  The  psalmist 
seems  to  have  had  three  of  these  in  his  mind 
at  this  time. 

I.  The  first  he  mentions,  is  tJie  relation 
in  which  the  great  Jehovah  stands  to  him. 

We  generally  say  that  the  promises  of 
God  are  the  grounds  of  our  expectations 
from  God,  and  so  they  are  ;  but  put  faith 
into  vigorous  exercise,  and  it  seems  as 
though  it  could  stand  for  a  while  without  a 
direct  promise.  It  brings  hope  into  the 
soul,  by  presenting  God  before  the  soul  in 
the  relation  which  he  is  pleased  to  bear 
towards  it,  and  then  telling  it  that  he  will 
be  to  it  all  that  this  relation  implies  ;  thus 
causing  it  to  trust  even  in  a  silent  God,  to 
feel  itself  safe  and  happy  in  his  hands,  be- 
fore he  gives  it  one  promise  or  utters  one 
word  to  make  it  so.  Look  at  the  forty, 
eighth  psalm.  "  This  God  is  our  God  for- 
ever and  ever,"  says  the  exulting  church  ; 
and  then  mark  the  conclusion  she  immedi- 
ately draws — "he  will  be  our  Guide  even 
unto  death."  And  hear  Jeremiah  ;  "  The 
Lord  is  my  portion,  saith  my  soul ;  therefore 
will  I  hope  in  him." 

Now  it  is  precisely  in  this  way  that 
David's  faith  works  in  the  outset  of  this 
peaceful  psalm.  "  I  shall  not  want,"  he 
says,  and  why  does  he  say  so  ?  Doubtless 
because,  in  some  wav  or  other,  he  has  taken 
up  the  idea  that  (iod  will  not  suffer  him  to 
want :  he  expects  provision  from  him,  a  full 
supply  of  all  his  necessities  both  of  body 
anrl  of  soul.  But  whence  has  he  got  this 
expectation?  On  what  does  he  build  it? 
He  comes  to  it  at  once  ;  not,  as  at  other 
times,  by  calling  to  mind  some  faithful 
promise  of  Jehovah's  lii;)s,  but  sim[»ly  from 
the   recollection  of  the  connection  which 


234 


DAVID'S  CONFIDENCE  IN  THE  PROSPECT  OF  THE  FUTURE 


exists  between  Jehovah  and  himself.  "  The 
Lord  is  my  Shepherd,'"  he  says  one  moment, 
and  then  the  next,  as  though  this  were 
enough,  he  adds,  "  I  shall  not  want.  My 
Shepherd  will  act  towards  me  a  Shepherd's 
part,  fie  will  supply  all  my  need.  No 
one  thing  that  is  good,  will  he  withhold 
from  uie.  I  am  his  and  he  is  mine,  and 
that  contents  me." 

Here  then  is  one  great  source  of  mental 
quietness — a  looking  on  God  as  actually 
sustaining  those  characters  towards  us, 
which  lie  says  he  sustains,  possessing  many 
of  the  feelings  they  imply  and  doing  their 
work.  But  in  order  to  this  two  things  are 
needful. 

First,  0,  view  of  God  as  a  gracious  God. 

This  the  psalmist  had  evidently  attained, 
for  mark  the  holy  confidence,  we  might  al- 
most say,  the  holy  boldness,  of  his  language. 
The  angels  in  heaven  would  scarcely  use 
it.  As  they  surround  the  throne  of  Jeho- 
vah, they  call  him  "  the  Lord  God  omni- 
potent," "  the  holy,  holy,  holy  Lord  God 
of  hosts  ;"  but  here  in  this  fallen  world 
comes  a  mortal  man,  a  mean,  polluted, 
despicable  worm,  and  looking  up  to  this 
same  exalted  Being,  sees  him,  as  it  were, 
in  a  human  form,  and  gives  him  a  human 
name  ;  he  calls  him  a  Shepherd,  and  not 
the  Shepherd  of  the  hosts  of  heaven,  sus- 
taining this  character  amongst  pure  and 
glorious  creatures,  but  the  Shepherd  of  a 
worthless  sinner  in  a  worthless  world. 

We  come  then  at  once  to  this  conclusion 
— before  we  can  repose  in  God,  we  must 
know  him  as  a  gracious  God,  and  gracious 
to  sinners.  We  must  make  such  a  dis- 
covery of  his  character,  as  will  not  leave 
one  hard  thought  of  him  in  our  minds ; 
such  as  will  represent  him  to  us  as  merci- 
ful, and  kind,  and  approachable,  willing  to 
be  our  friend,  and  well  pleased  with  us 
when  we  treat  him  as  our  friend.  And  no- 
where can  a  sinner  make  tiiis  discovery  of 
him,  but  in  that  manifestation  which  he  has 
given  us  of  himself  in  and  through  his  in- 
carnate Son.  Away  from  Christ,  there  is 
no  comfort,  no  repose,  in  our  thoughts  of 
God,  except  indeed  that  which  comes  from 
erroneous  thoughts  of  him.  Of  this  there 
is  more  ihan  enough  in  the  world.  But 
once  open  a  man's  eyes,  let  him  once  see 
something  of  the  greatness,  and  majesty, 
and  purity,  of  him  with  whom  he  has  to 
do,  and  then  he  must  look  at  him  in  the 
flesh,   in   the  condescending  and  suffering 


and  dying  Jesus,  before  he  can  venture 
near  him,  or  know  in  fact  one  feeling  of 
hope  or  peace. 

And  another  thing  is  needful — ve  must 
know  this  gracious  God  lo  he  our  God. 

The  psalmist,  you  ol)serve,  uses  what  is 
called  the  language  of  appropriation.  He 
does  not,  like  the  dying  Jacob,  call  the 
Lord,  "the  Shepherd  of  Israel;"  or,  like 
Peter,  "  the  Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  souls  :'' 
he  says,  and  says  it  as  though  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  say  it,  "  The  Lord  is  my 
Shepherd  ;  I  can  look  up  to  him  as  mine." 
And  this  connecting  of  a  gracious  God 
with  ourselves,  is  necessary  for  us  before 
we  can  have  anj'  abiding  peace  in  liim.  A 
believing  view  of  God  as  in  Christ  Jesus  a 
gracious  God,  will,  I  know,  save  my  guilty 
soul  when  I  die  ;  but  it  will  not  of  itself 
quiet  my  troubled  spirit  while  I  live.  I 
must  see  his  favor  and  mercy  reaching  to 
me,  his  peculiar  mercy,  the  favor  lie  bears 
to  his  chosen.  I  must  feel  myself  to  bean 
object  of  it,  embraced  by  it,  under  its  influ- 
ence and  operation  :  and  then  I  can  rest ; 
then  I  can  say,  "Abba,  Father;"  then  I 
know  I  am  safe.  Place  me  then  in  the 
wildest  desert  on  the  globe,  amidst  perils 
out  of  number,  in  desolation  and  darkness, 
do  with  me  what  you  will,  I  can  say,  and 
say  it  with  as  much  confidence — blessed 
be  God  ! — as  though  1  were  in  heaven,  "  I 
will  fear  no  evil  ;  I  shall  not  want.  How 
can  I  ?  There  is  the  omnipotent  God  my 
Shepherd  to  protect  me,  and  there  is  the 
same  God,  with  all  his  riches  in  glory,  my 
Shepherd  to  feed  me." 

II.  The  'presence  of  God  with  him  was 
another  ground  of  the  psalmist's  quietness 
at  this  time  ;  "  I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  thou 
art  with  me." 

We  all  know  that  God  is  everywhere 
present,  but  it  is  amazing  how  little  we 
think  of  his  presence.  It  is  at  once  a  part 
and  a  proof  of  our  natural  ungodliness, 
that,  till  our  hearts  are  renewed,  wc  habitu- 
ally forget  it.  We  live  and  feel  as  though 
God  were  far  away.  But  when  a  man 
really  becomes  a  new  creature  in  Christ 
Jesus,  he  begins  to  feel  himself  for  the  first 
time  in  the  presence  of  the  living  God. 
The  truth  he  before  knew  and  forgot,  he 
now  cannot  forget;  it  assumes  a  startling 
importance  in  his  eyes.  A  part  of  the 
grace  he  has  received  consists  in  liis  lively 
impression  of  it.  Do  you  ask  who  is  a 
godly  man  \     I  answer,  he  who  habitually 


DAVID'S  CONFIDENCE  IN  THE  PROSPECT  OF  TU-G  FUTURE. 


235 


moves  about  the  earth  with  this  thought  in 
his  mind,  "  Thou,  O  God,  seest  mo.  I  am 
in  Jehovah's  presence.  The  God  who  made 
me,  is  near  me." 

At  first  this  thought  excites  in  him  per- 
haps pain  and  terror.  He  had  rather  God 
were  not  near  liim.  lie  is  ready  to  say  to 
him  with  the  frightened  Peter,  '•  Depart 
from  me,  for  I  am  a  sinful  man,  O  Lord." 
He  feels  in  God's  presence  as  a  criminal 
feels  in  the  presence  of  his  judge.  But 
when  the  man  begins  to  acquire  a  know- 
ledge of  God  as  a  gracious  God,  and  begins 
to  hope  that  lie  is  or  may  be  gracious  to 
him  ;  when  his  faith  gains  confidence,  and 
he  can.  say,  "  The  Lord  is  my  Sliepherd  ;" 
then  none  but  the  man  himself  can  tell  how 
he  rejoices  in  the  fact  that  before  terrified 
him.  "  My  shepherd,"  he  says,  "  is  not  one 
far  away  from  me;  one  whom  I  have  to 
call  from  a  distance  when  the  storm  over- 
takes me  on  the  bleak  mountain,  or  tlie  tor- 
rent comes  rushing  down  in  the  dark  valley, 
or  when  I  am  faint  with  hunger  in  the  bar. 
ren  wilderness  ;  he  is  ever  by  my  side,  he 
never  leaves  or  forsakes  me.  Whither  shall 
I  go  from  his  Spirit,  or  whither  shall  I  flee 
from  his  presence  ?  I  can  go  and  flee  no- 
where, and  nowhere  do  I  wish  to  flee.  It 
is  my  comfort  and  strength  to  believe  him 
near  me,  and  it  is  the  highest  earthly  joy 
my  soul  knows  to  feel  him  near.  When 
my  foolish  heart  tells  me  he  is  gone  from 
me,  I  become  a  fearful  and  troubled 
man." 

And  the  Lord  encourages  this  feeling  in 
his  people.  He  often  appeals  to  it.  His 
presence,  he  tells  them,  may  well  tranquil- 
lize them.  "  Fear  thou  not,"  he  says,  "  for 
I  am  with  thee."  And  the  blessed  Jesus 
also  does  the  same.  Touchingly  indeed 
does  he  let  us  see  that  he  understands  well 
the  quietness  his  presence  gives.  His  dis- 
ciples were  sorrowful,  for  they  were  going 
to  lose  liim  ;  the  hour  of  his  last  agony  and 
death  was  coming  on  ;  and  what  docs  he 
say  to  them  ?  He  can  think  of  no  greater 
comfort  for  them  in  their  sorrow,  than  the 
prospect  of  seeing  him  again.  "  1  will  not 
leave  you  comfortless,"  he  says,  "  I  will 
come  to  you.  Ye  now  have  sorrow,  but  I 
will  see  you  again,  and  your  heart  shall 
rejoice."  And  think  of  the  last  words  that 
proceeded  from  his  sacred  lips  as  he  left 
the  earth.  They  were  words  that  corre- 
spond exactly  to  these  words  of  David  ;  "  Lo, 
^  am  with  you  alway,  even  unto  the  end 


of  the  world.  Go  ye  now  and  proai  h  my 
gospel  to  all  nations.  Everywhere  shall 
men  hate  you  and  persecute  you  ;  everv- 
where  shall  you  have  tribulation :  but  here  is 
consolation  for  you  and  consolation  enough 
j  — I  will  be  everywhere  with  you.  You 
may  think  of  me,  not  as  far  olF,  but  as  pre- 
sent with  you,  as  really  present  with  you 
as  you  see  me  now." 

And  cannot  yau  understand  this,  breth- 
ren ?  What  infant  fears  in  its  mother's 
arms  ?  What  child  is  greatly  afraid  by  a 
father's  side?  What  good  soldier  shrinks 
when  he  sees  his  geiiera'l  at  his  right  hand 
as  the  foe  comes  on  ?  And  what  enemy, 
or  danger,  or  want,  or  sorrow,  appals  you, 
when  you  can  look  upward  and  say  to  the 
great  Shepherd  of  souls,  "  Thou  art  with 
us  ?"  when  you  can  look  around  you  and 
say,  "  The  Lord  is  here  ?"  O  the  comfort 
the  presence  even  of  an  earthly  friend  some- 
times gives  us  in  pain  or  sorrow  !  How 
tranquil  the  mind  becomes  in  the  conscious- 
ness  that  he  is  and  will  be  near  us  !  But 
what  is  this  to  the  presence  of  an  infinitely 
tender  and  powerful  God  ?  "I  have  set 
the  Lord  always  before  me,"  said  David  ; 
"  because  he  is  at  my  right  hand,  I  shall 
not  be  moved.  Therefore  my  heart  is  glad, 
and  my  glory  rejoiceth."  Nothing  dis- 
mays this  man.  "  Yea,  though  I  walk 
through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death," 
he  says  again,  "  I  will  fear  no  evil  ;  for 
thou  art  with  me  ;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff 
they  comfort  me." 

I(L  Let  us  come  now  to  a  third  spring 
of  his  serenity.  Tins  we  find  to  be  his 
present  mercies. 

He  does  not  tell  us  what  these  mercies 
were.  It  is  evident  however  that  he  had 
not  mainly,  if  at  all,  in  his  mind  any  earth- 
ly good,  the  crown  he  wore  or  the  worldly 
prosperity  he  enjoyed.  His  thoughts  are 
soaring  far  above  all  these  empty  shows  of 
happiness.  They  are  settling  on  those 
more  precious  mercies  which  he  enjoyed 
when  a  shepherd  boy  on  the  hills  of  Bethle- 
hem, as  richly  perhaps  and  sweetly  as  on 
the  throne  of  Israel.  He  lias  spiritual 
blessings  in  his  mind  ;  spiritual  provisions 
— those  supplies  of  strength  and  consola- 
tion for  the  soul,  which  carry  it  onward 
and  refresh  it  in  the  way  to  heaven  ;  and 
spiritual  pleasures — the  joys  which  flow 
into  the  soul  from  communion  Mith  heaven, 
from  the  contemplation  of  God  and  inter- 
course with  him.      Of  these  blessings  it 


236 


DAVID'S  CONFIDENCE  IN  THE  PROSPECT  OF  THE  FUTURE. 


seems  as  though,  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart, 
he  hardly  knows  how  to  speak. 

He  notices,  first,  their  abundance  ;  "  He 
maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures." 

The  pastures  he  feeds  in,  are  not  rugged 
mountains  or  parched  up  deserts,  affording 
here  and  there  dry  and  scanty  herbage  ; 
they  are  meadows  green  as  with  one  eter- 
nal spring,  covered  with  verdure,  and  that 
verdure  of  the  sweetest  and  most  nourish- 
ing kind — "  new  every  morning,"  "  green 
pastures,"  or,  as  the  words  are  translated 
in  the  margin,  "  pastures  of  tender  grass." 

And  in  these  he  "  lies  down."  He  feeds 
in  them  without  toil  or  labor.  They  satis- 
fy too  while  they  support  him.  He  lies 
down  in  them  without  one  desire  of  seeking 
elsewhere  better  or  more  abundant  food. 

And  then  he  notices  the  safely  u'ith  zchich 
he  enjoys  these  mercies. 

Can  earthly  pleasures  be  so  enjoyed? 
Let  those  say,  who  have  experienced  the 
most  of  them.  Are  they  not  all  perilous 
to  the  soul  ?  and  are  not  the  most  delight- 
ful of  them  the  most  perilous?  I  allude 
not  to  gross  |)Ieasures.  Take  those  which 
seem  the  farthest  removed  from  grossness, 
the  most  refined  pleasures  of  the  under- 
standing, and  the  sweetest  and  least  sensual 
pleasures  of  the  heart.  Is  there  one  among 
them  all,  which  you  can  enjoy  without 
danger,  or  one  which  you  can  open  your 
lieart  to  without  fear  ?  But  turn  to  spiritual 
pleasures.  "He  leadeth  me,"  says  David, 
"beside  the  still  waters." 

Sheep  are  everywhere  helpless  animals, 
and  especially  so  in  water.  Hence  it  fre- 
quently happens  that  those  very  streams 
which  fertilize  the  pastures  they  feed  in, 
become,  by  their  rapidity  or  sudden  over- 
flowing, the  causes  of  their  destruction. 
But  the  waters  that  refresh  the  fold  of  God, 
are  not  waters  of  this  dangerous  character  ; 
not  torrents  which  may  burst  their  banks 
and  sweep  away  the  flock  in  their  violence, 
they  are  gentle  streams,  such  as  may  be 
approached  without  danger  and  dwelt  by 
without  fear.  They  are  "still  waters,"  or, 
as  the  margin  calls  them,  "  waters  of  quiet- 
ness." 

How  peaceful  must  have  been  David's 
mind  at  this  time,  for  images  of  this  (piiet 
character  so  readily  to  enter  it!  to  enter  it, 
mark,  not  on  the' sides  of  Carmel  or  on  the 
banks  of  Jordan,  but  in  .Terusalem  and  on  a 
throne,  amid  the  turmoil  of  a  crowded  city 
and  the  anxiities  of  a  crown. 


And  he  still  goes  on — he  speaks  in  the 
fifth  verse  of  the  strange  circumstances  un- 
der which  these  mercies  are  enjoyed  ;  "  Thou 
preparest  a  table  before  me" — feedest  me 
with  this  safe  and  abundant  food — where  ? 
In  the  most  unlikely  spot  that  could  be  se- 
lected — "  in  the  presence  of  mine  enemies," 
in  the  very  thick  of  dangers,  on  the  battle- 
field, amid  toil  and  conflict,  in  a  situation 
where  nothing  was  to  be  expected  but  ap- 
prehension and  alarm,  and  nothing  hoped 
for  but  at  the  best  preservation. 

And  where,  brethren,  are  your  spiritual 
consolations  found  and  enjoyed  ?  Surely 
there  is  something  marvellous  in  their  be- 
ing enjoyed  at  all  in  a  world  like  this,  and 
in  such  hearts  as  ours.  When  we  look 
around  us  and  behold  the  sin  and  misery 
which  cover  the  earth  ;  when  we  think  of 
our  friends  and  neighbors,  and  recollect  the 
sorrows  some  of  them  are  enduring,  or 
something  worse — the  sorrows  many  of 
them  appear  determined  to  venture  on  in 
an  eternal  world ;  and  then  when  our 
thoughts  turn  inward,  and  we  think  of  wliat 
we  have  been  and  what  we  are,  how  unho- 
ly our  lives  and  how  tainted  even  to  the 
core  our  hearts,  how  base  our  ingratitude 
to  the  Saviour  who  has  bled  for  us,  and 
how  frequent  and  shameful  our  cleaving  to 
evil  lusts  and  an  evil  world  ;  and  then  too 
when  we  think  of  our  spiritual  fies,  the  lost 
spirits  that  unseen  surround  us,  that  are 
every  moment  aiming  to  throw  within  us 
the  elements  of  pollution  and  to  pierce  us 
through  with  sorrows — if  there  is  a  marvel 
in  the  universe,  it  is  the  existence  in  our 
world  of  one  happy  heart  or  one  throb  of 
joy.  Sometimes  cast  down,  sometimes 
weeping — wonder  at  this,  brethren  ?  Rath- 
er wonder  that  you  are  not  weeping  every 
hour,  that  every  breath  you  draw  is  not  a 
sigh,  that  every  bed  you  lie  on  is  not  water- 
ed  with  your  tears.  You  are  in  a  desert 
waste  and  barren,  and  yet  you  are  often 
gathering  in  it  heavenly  fruits.  The  dark- 
ness of  midnight  is  around  you  ;  but  there 
is  a  light  often  shining,  on  your  head,  a 
light  cheering  and  gladdening  like  tne 
light  which  shines  around  the  throne  of 
Ciod. 

The  truth  is,  "  when  God  giveth  quiet 
ness,"  none  "  then  can  make  trouble."  It 
is  not  in  the  power  of  Satan  or  the  world  tc 
disturb  the  joy  he  puts  into  the  soul.  "  A 
stranger  doth  not  intermeddle  with  it." 
"  Thou  preparest  a  table  befcre  nie  \\\  the 


DAVIDS  CONFIDENCE  IN  THE  PROSPECT  OF  THE  FUTURE. 


237 


presence  of  mine  enemies.  My  enemies 
see  my  blessedness,  but  they  cannot  rob  me 
of  it,  they  cannot  mar  it." 

And  vet  furtlier — tlie  psalmist  spealus  of 
the  honor  which  the  Lord  puts  on  him  tvhiJc 
b/e.ssiiig  him  ;   "  Thou  anointest    my    head  i 
with  oil."  I 

You  are  aware  that  in  eastern  countries,  ' 
wlien  the  master  of  a  feast  wislied  to  treat 
a   guest  with  more  than  usual  respect,  he  . 
poured  on  his  head  a  fragrant  oil.     Our  | 
Lord  was  thus  anointed  in  the  Pharisee's 
house  by  the  woman   who  had    been  a  sin-  | 
ncr,  and  again  at  Bethany  by  the  belovad  I 
Mary.      Here   then    David    means  to   say, 
that  his  God  did  more  than  supply  his  wants  1 
and  fill  up  all   the   capacities  of  happiness 
within  him  ;   he  made  the  provision  and  the 
joy  he  gave  him  honorable  to  him  ;  as  he 
e.xpresses  it  in  another  psalm,  he  "  beauti- ; 
fied"  hmi  with  salvation. 

A  sinner's  happiness  is  God's  gloiy,  for 
it  manifests  his  love  and  magnifies  his 
power  ;  and  it  is  the  sinner's  glory,  for  it 
marks  him  out  as  a  creature  distinguished 
of  God,  .selected  out  of  a  crowded  universe 
as  one  whom  he  delights  to  honor,  and  in 
who.se  happiness  he  takes  special  pleasure. 
The  angel  is  happy  in  a  world  of  happi- 
ness, breathing  the  air  of  joy  ;  the  redeem- 
ed sinner  is  made  happy  in  a  world  of 
misery,  amid  sufferings  and  griefs.  The 
Lord,  as  it  were,  goes  out  of  his  way  to 
bless  him,  he  leaves  his  accustomed  path 
to  give  him  joy. 

We  have  thus  glanced  at  these  four  cir- 
cumstances in  David's  mercies  —  their 
abundance,  their  safe  nature,  the  strange- 
ness of  the  situation  in  which  they  were 
enjoyed,  and  the  honor  connected  with  them. 
And  now  to  make  these  mercies  bear  on 
our  subject,  quietness  of  heart,  we  must 
notice  the  manner  in  which  the  psalmist 
begins  and  ends  the  mention  of  them.  "  I 
shall  not  want,"  he  says,  "  not  want  in  the 
days  to  come  ;"  and  then  he  proceeds  to 
tell  us  what  he  possesses  now ;  and  when 
he  can  go  no  further  in  the  enumeration  of 
his  blessings,  when  his  soul  overflows,  and 
he  is  obliged  to  sum  up  all  and  say,  "  My 
cup  runneth  over,  I  have  more  than  I  can 
enjoy,"  what  does  he  add  ?  He  draws  an 
inference  that  is  precisely  the  same  in  its 
miport,  as  the  inference  he  drew  at  first 
from  the  Lord's  relation  to  him  ;  "  Surely 
goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me  all  the 
days  of  my  life."     There  must  then  have 


been  .some  comipction  in  his  mind  Ixnvveen 
his  pre.sent  mercies  and  future  mercies,  he 
must  have  regarde<l  the  former  as  forerun- 
ners and  pledges  of  the  latter.  "  The  Lord 
my  Sliepherd  is  blessing  me."  he  must 
have  said,  "  signally  blessing  me.  Such 
happiness  as  mine  is  not  earth-born  ;  it 
comes  to  me  from  heaven.  And  why  is  it 
sent  down  from  heaven  into  my  worthless 
soul  ?  Doubtless  to  teach  me  how  much 
my  God  can  give,  to  discover  to  me  the 
tenderness  of  my  Shepherd's  heart  and  the 
strength  of  my  Shepherd's  arm,  to  unfold 
to  me  ills  purj)Oscs  of  love,  to  tell  me  in 
every  feeling  of  joy  I  experience,  that  he 
will  be  with  me  on  earth  and  take  me  at 
last  to  heaven." 

I  do  not  mean  that  all  present  mercies 
are  pledges  of  future  mercies.  Far  from 
it.  Mercy  goes  with  thousands  down  to 
the  grave,  and  there  leaves  them  forever. 
The  world  is  full  of  mercies.  Even  the 
broad  road  of  destruction,  the  pathway 
down  to  hell,  is  strewed  with  them.  But 
these  common  mercies  are  not  those  refer- 
red  to  in  this  psalm.  It  speaks  of  spirit- 
ual blessings ;  mercies  such  as  the  world 
neither  possesses  nor  knows  of;  mercies 
connected  with  the  pardon  of  sin,  the  re- 
newal of  the  heart,  the  elevation  of  the  af- 
fections, a  conversation  in  heaven,  a  walk- 
ing with  an  unseen  God.  From  these  things 
flow  holy  consolations,  pure,  and  deep,  and 
heart-felt  pleasures  ;  pleasures  which  are 
in  a  great  measure  independent  of  worldly 
things,  weaning  the  soul  from  them  instead 
jf  attaching  it  to  them,  making  it  long  for 
the  work  and  blessedness  of  heaven  and  the 
presence  and  likeness  of  its  Lord.  Now, 
brethren,  are  such  pleasures  yours  ?  Then 
you  are  warranted  to  infer  that  all  things 
are  yours.  You  are  warranted  to  draw 
from  your  blessedness  the  same  conclusion 
that  David  drew  from  his.  When  the  Lord 
speaks  peace  to  you  in  affliction,  reveals 
him.self  to  you  in  prayer,  shines  forth  before 
you  as  you  hear  or  read  his  word,  bringing 
it  home  to  your  heart  as  though  it  were  a 
special  message  to  you  from  himself,  when 
he  meets  you  at  his  table  and  is  known  of 
you  there  in  breaking  of  bread — then,  I 
say,  and  I  may  say  it  with  confidence,  you 
are  warranted  to  exclaim  with  this  happy 
p.salmist,  "Surely  goodness  and  mercy 
shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life." 
You  may  look  beyond  life  and  say  again, 
"  I  shall  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  for 


238 


MAN'S  NEED  SUPPLIED  FROM  GOD'S  RICHES 


ever."  In  your  case,  hope  ou<jht  to  spring 
out  of  enjoyment,  quietness  for  tlie  future 
out  of  present  abundance. 

And  mark  the  strength  of  the  psahnist's 
language.  He  does  not  say  that  goodness 
and  mercy  will  be  found  of  him  whenever 
he  seeks  them  ;  he  says,  "  They  will  fol- 
low, pursue  me.  I  shall  not  be  able  to 
get  away  from  them."  And  he  does  not 
say  this  as  though  it  were  only  a  matter 
of  hope  with  him,  he  speaks  as  though  it 
were  a  matter  of  certainty  ;  "  Surely  good- 
ness and  mercy  shall  follow  me."  O  what 
a  blessed  confidence  !     Do  you  wish  for  it 


Christian  brcthn 


Then  you  may  have 


it.  A  composed  mind,  a  casting  away  of 
tormenting  and  depressing  anxieties,  a  roll- 
ing of  your  burdens  on  the  Lord — peace, 
rest,  repose — this  the  Lord  offers  you.  He 
offers  it  you  now  ;  not  when  your  circum- 
stances are  altered,  not  when  this  or  that 
cloud  is  removed,  or  this  or  that  trial  gone, 
or  some  blessing  you  long  for  is  given,  but 
now,  in  the  presence  of  your  enemies,  in 
the  midst  of  all  the  confusion  around  you, 
the  darkness  before  you,  and  the  turmoil 
within  you.  He  says,  "Come  to  me,  and 
I  will  give  it  you."  O  go  to  him  and  take 
it.  It  flows  out  of  a  sense  of  reconciliation 
with  him,  a  holy  contemplation  of  him,  a 
mindfulness  of  his  presence,  and,  above  all, 
a  perception  and  enjoyment  of  his  amazing 
goodness.  The  spiritual  mercies  he  be- 
stows are  all  connected.  They  are  all  glo- 
rious links  in  the  same  glorious  chain — 
grace  at  one  end,  glory  at  the  other  ;  par- 
don here,  heaven  there  ;  a  broken  heart  at 
the  beginning,  a  happy,  satisfied  heart  at 
the  end.  To  have  one  is  sooner  or  later  to 
have  all;  it  is  a  pledge  of  all.  "The 
mercy  of  the  Lord  is  from  everlasting  to 
everlasting  upon  them  that  fear  him."  If 
he  has  put  his  fear  in  you,  his  mercy  will 
be  everlasting  upon  you.  He  tells  you  so. 
He  speaks  to  you  from  heaven  and  says, 
"  I  will  never  leave  nor  forsake  thee."  O 
let  your  answer  be,  "  He  never  will  for- 
sake me.  I  shall  not  want.  I  will  fear 
no  evil.  Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall 
ever  follow  me.  I  sha.l  dwell  in  the  house 
of  the  Lord  for  ever." 


SERMON  L. 

THE  SIXTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINTTV. 

MAN'S  NEED  SUPPLIED  FROM  GOD'S 
RICHES. 

Philippians  IV.  19. — "  My  God  shall  supply  all 
your  need  according  to  his  riches  in  glory,  by 
Christ  Jesus." 

This,  in  the  first  instance,  was  the  lan- 
guage of  gratitude.  It  was  drawn  forth 
from  the  apostle  by  the  kindne^ss  shown  him 
in  a  season  of  difficulty  by  the  Philippian 
Christians.  And  it  expresses  most  natu- 
rally the  feelings  of  a  holy  soul  under  a 
sense  of  kindness.  "  I  cannot  recompense 
you,"  it  says,  "  but  that  gives  me  no  pain 
— my  God  can,  and  my  God  will.  Ye  sent 
once  and  again  unto  my  necessity  ;  my 
God  will  send  to  you  in  yours.  He  will 
supply  all  your  need  according  to  his  riches 
in  glory,  by  Christ  Jesus." 

The  first  point  we  have  to  notice  here  is 
man's  necessity ;  the  second,  God's  wealth  ; 
and  then  a  third,  the  supply  the  apostle  an 
ticipates  for  this  necessity  from  tJiis  wealth. 

I.   We  must  look  at  7nan''s  necessity. 

The  apostle  speaks  of  this  as  though,  in 
the  case  before  him,  it  was  extensive  and 
great.  "  My  God  shall  supply  all  your 
need,"  he  says,  intimating  that  he  knew 
there  was  much  need  among  them  to  be 
supplied.  And  yet  these  were  real  Chris- 
tians, men  whom  God  had  chosen  and  set 
apart  for  himself,  enriched  with  many  of 
the  highest  blessings  he  has  to  give,  and. 
destined  for  the  highest  happiness.  But 
still  they  were  in  need,  in  great  need  ;  and 
so,  brethren,  is  every  child  of  God,  and  so 
he  must  continue,  as  long  as  he  continues 
at  all  in  this  present  world.  Every  tiling 
in  it  combines  to  render  his  case  necessi- 
tous, and  his  wants  urgent. 

Strictly  speaking,  all  the  creatures  that 
exist  are  equally  indigent,  no  one  more  so 
than  another.  Whether  siimers  or  saints, 
angels  or  men,  we  are  in  ourselves  all  alike 
poor,  all  alike  dependent  every  moment  on 
the  hand  that  formed  us.  Out  of  God, 
there  is  not  a  particle  of  real  self-suffi- 
ciency  in  the  universe.  But  then  circum- 
stances, though  they  cannot  add  to  ouj 
inherent  emptiness  or  dependence,  may  add, 
and  add  very  materially,  to  our  necessities. 
And  the  people  of  God,  while  living  here, 
are  placed  in  exactly  those  circumstances 


MAN'S  NEED  SUPPLIED  FROM  GODS  RICHES. 


239 


whicli  seem  calculated  to  increasn  their  ne- 
cessities the  most  ;  just  as  though  God 
were  determined  to  sliou-  in  their  ease  in 
how  much  need  he  can  support  a  creature, 
and  what  a  rich  supply  he  has  for  him  in 
every  exigency.     Look  at  their  situation. 

There  are  three  ways  by  which  we  can 
concnivc  it  possible  for  the  wants  of  a  de- 
pendent creature  to  be  increased.  One  is, 
when  hr  is  placed  in  a  situation  unfavorable 
to  his  happiness  ;  I  mean,  when  he  stands 
amidst  outward  difficulties  or  dansers ; 
where  tiiere  is  somcthinij  to  be  removed  or 
overcome,  as  well  as  something  to  be  sup- 
plied, before  he  can  be  happy.  An  infant, 
for  instance,  in  its  mother's  arms,  is  as 
needy  in  itself  as  want  and  helplessness 
can  render  it ;  but  take  it  from  its  mother 
and  cast  it  into  a  raging  sea,  you  add  at 
once  to  its  exigencies.  It  needs  now  to  be 
rescued  as  well  as  nourished  ;  it  wants  a 
deliverer  as  well  as  a  mother. 

And  tlien  again  the  need  of  a  creature  is 
yet  further  augmented,  when,  in  addition  to 
these  unfavorable  circumstances  from  with- 
out, there  is  something  within  itself  counter- 
acting its  welfare.  A  sick  man  wants  more 
help  than  one  in  health  ;  a  man  with  a 
wounded  spirit  more  comfort  and  solace 
than  another  man  with  a  mind  unwrung. 

And  in  yet  a  third  case  the  creature's 
need  may  be  enlarged — when  he  is  destined 
for  a  high  station  or  high  enjoyments.  For 
example — a  monarch's  son  requires  more 
care  and  pains  in  his  early  training,  than  a 
peasant's  child.  Or  take  a  barbarian — he 
does  well  enough  in  his  native  woods  among 
his  fellow-savages,  but  set  him  apart  for  a 
high  state  of  civilization  and  refinement, 
and  you  have  added  to  him  at  once  many 
wants.  You  must  communicate  to  him 
much  knowledge,  you  must  subject  him  to 
much  discipline,  you  must  labor  on  him  a 
long  time  and  in  various  ways,  before  you 
can  enable  him  to  enter  into  your  pursuits 
or  relisli  your  enjoyments. 

Now  put  these  three  things  together,  and 
then  you  will  have  a  faint  idea  of  the  ex- 
tent and  urgency  of  the  Christian's  need  in 
this  evil  world.  We  are  not  needy  in  a 
world  of  abundance  and  quiet,  in  a  world 
the  atmosphere  of  which  breathes  of  happi- 
ness ;  we  are  needy  in  a  situation  most  un- 
favorable to  our  happiness,  our  best  and 
highest  happiness — in  a  desert,  barren  and 
waste  ;  and  worse  than  this — in  a  desert 
where  the  sun  scorches,  and  the  hurriiane 


sweeps,  and  the  serpent  stings,  and  the 
cruel  Arab  plunders  and  destroys. 

And  there  is  mischief  within  us  too,  for 
there  is  sin  within  us ;  an  evil  so  great, 
that  a  dark  hell  itself  could  not  inllicton  us 
a  greater.  It  does  not  know  a  greater. 
And  this  evil  is  deeply  seated  within  us, 
and  is  always  at  work  within  us,  and  we 
have  no  power  in  ourselves  to  cast  it  out  of 
us,  and  little  or  none  even  to  moderate  or 
control  it. 

And  then,  if  we  are  the  people  of  God, 
we  are  designed  for  a  station  as  unlike  our 
present,  as  a  glorious  heaven  is  unlike  an 
accur.sed  earth,  and  for  pursuits  and  joys 
for  which  naturally  we  have  no  taste  or 
desire ;  nay,  we  have  no  conception  of 
them,  no  more  than  the  deaf  man  has  of 
music,  or  the  blind  man  of  a  rainbow,  or  the 
beast  that  perishes,  of  the  soarings  of  the 
imagination  or  the  expandings  of  intellect. 

We  are  needy,  first,  not  simply  as  crea- 
tures, but  as  creatures  among  dangers  and 
without  supplies ;  then  we  are  needy  as 
sinful  creatures  ;  and  then  as  creatures  re- 
deemed and  set  apart  for  glory.  We  are, 
first,  starving  Avhere  there  is  no  bread, 
naked  where  there  is  a  scorching  sun  but 
no  clothing,  thirsty  where  there  is  no  foun- 
tain ;  and  then  we  are  sick  where  there  is 
no  physician,  wounded  where  we  can  have 
no  cure,  polluted  where  there  is  no  cleans- 
ing stream,  miserable  where  there  is  none 
to  comfort — miserable  in  ourselves  where 
all  around  us  is  misery  ;  and,  to  complete 
the  picture,  we  are  beggars'  sons  appointed 
to  .sit  on  a  monarch's  throne ;  not  worthy 
to  walk  this  wretched  earth,  but  destined  to 
mount  the  skies  ;  hungering  now  after  the 
vilest  husks,  grovelling  in  our  desires  and 
appetites,  feeding  on  ashes  and  scarcely 
caring  for  any  thing  better  ;  but  soon  to 
feed  with  angels,  to  enter  into  heaven's  pur- 
suits and  heaven's  pleasures ;  to  rise  to  a 
state  of  exaltation,  beyond  which  there  is 
no  exaltation,  to  stand  in  Jehovah's  pre- 
sence, before  his  throne  and  his  face,  to 
wear  his  likeness  and  share  his  joy. 

These  are  our  circumstances,  brethren  ; 
this  is  our  need  ;  at  least,  this  is  a  part  of 
it.  May  God  grant  that  we  may  become 
more  and  more  sensible  of  its  extent  and 
urgency  !  It  is  a  serious  thing  to  be  thus 
needy  and  know  ourselves  to  be  so ;  but  to 
be  thus  needy  and  know  it  not — what  can 


be 


more  dangerous 


Ignor 


like  this 


is  the  ruin,  it  is  the  death,  of  the  soul,  and 


240 


MAN'S  NEED  SUPPLIED  FROxM  GOD'S  RICHES. 


ils  ruin  and  death  under  the  most  mournful 
circumstances.  It  allows  us  to  die  for  want 
in  the  desert,  when  God  is  opening  foun- 
tains in  the  desert,  and  raining  down  bread 
from  heaven  all  around  us. 

II.  We  n)ay  go  on  now  to  another  part 
of  the  text — God's  wealth.  It  ascribes  to 
him,  you  observe,  "  riches,"  and  these, 
"  riches  in  glory." 

Now  the  apostle  has  not  in  his  mind,  1 
conceive,  all  the  blessings  which  God  pos- 
sesses in  himself,  but  those  blessings  in  par- 
ticular, which  are  adapted  to  our  present 
state  of  want  and  our  future  state  of  ex- 
altation. He  means  what  we  emphatically 
call  gospel  blessings,  and  what  he  himself 
calls  in  another  place  "  the  riches  of  God's 
grace."  They  comprehend  all  those  un- 
speakably great  mei'cies  which  are  offered 
to  sinners  in  and  through  the  Lord  Jesus, 
and  many  of  which  have  been  provided  es- 
pecially for  sinners  and  are  peculiar  to 
them — blessings  which  find  man  sunk  to 
the  very  bottom  of  the  rational  creation, 
and  so  exalt  and  enrich  him,  that  he  as- 
cends up  to  the  summit  of  it  ;  above  him 
is  Jehovah,  and  the  great  Jehovah  alone. 

These  blessings  are  said  to  be  God's,  be- 
cause they  all  come  from  God,  and  have  their 
origin  in  him.  They  are  his  gifts,  and  must 
consequently  have  been  first  his  possessions. 

And  they  are  frequently  called  "riches" 
in  holy  scripture,  especially  by  this  apostle. 
It  is  a  figure  under  which  he  seems  to  de- 
light in  describing  them.  The  Lord,  he 
says,  is  "  rich  in  mercy  ;"  he  is  "  rich  unto 
all  that  call  upon  him.'"  He  tells  us  of 
"  the  riches  of  his  goodness,"  "  the  exceed- 
ing riches  of  his  grace,"  "  the  unsearchable 
riches  of  Christ."  The  gospel  which  pro- 
claims his  mercy,  he  calls  "a  treasure," 
and  says  that  in  it,  or  rather  in  that  Saviour 
of  whom  it  testifies,  "  are  hidden  all  the  trea- 
sures of  wisdom  and  knowledge." 

The  figure  seems  to  convey  to  us  two 
ideas — the  abundance  of  these  blessings, 
and  their  value  or  excellence.  It  intimates 
their  abundance.  It  is  not  one  or  two  jjieccs 
of  silver  and  gold,  that  constitute  a  man 
rich  ;  nor  power  to  relieve  one  or  two  beg- 
gars, that  leads  us  to  call  him  wealthy. 
There  must  be  considerable  property  in  his 
hands,  large  resources,  a  power,  after  sup- 
plying his  own  wants,  of  supplying  the 
wants  of  many  more.  So,  when  the  apostle 
calls  God  rich,  he  must  see  him  to  al)ound 
in  blessings,  and  in  those  blessings  which 


I  man  needs,  to  have  the  command  of  every 
thing  which  man  wants,  and  as  much  of 
every  thing  as  man's  necessities  demand. 

And  he  does  so  abound,  brethren.  Where 
is  the  want  for  which  his  gospel  does  not 
offer  you  a  remedy  ?  Where  is  the  bless- 
ing he  is  not  able  to  bestow  ?  He  is  so 
rich,  that  multitudes  of  sinners  may  go  to 
him  and  come  away  laden  with  blessings ; 
and  yet  they  who  come  after  them,  see  in 
him  no  diminution.  Yea,  a  whole  starving 
world  might  goto  him  for  bread  and  find  it, 
and  his  abundance  be  overflowing  as  ever. 
Millions  on  millions  could  no  more  exhaust 
it,  than  you  or  I,  with  the  hollow  of  our 
hand,  could  exhaust  a  river  or  empty  a  sea. 
He  is  able  to  do,  says  this  apostle,  "  all 
that  we  ask,"  and  "above  all  that  we  ask," 
and  "  abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask," 
and  "  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that 
we  ask,"  and  more  still — "  exceeding 
abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask  or  think." 
And  again  we  read,  "  Eye  hath  not  seen, 
nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man,  the  things  wiiich  God  hath 
prepared  for  them  that  love  him."  The 
eye  of  man  has  seen  much,  his  ear  has 
heard  of  more  than  his  eye  has  seen,  and 
his  heart  has  conceived  of  yet  more  than 
his  ear  has  heard  of;  but  neither  his  eye, 
ear,  nor  heart,  let  them  see  and  hear  and 
conceive  as  they  may,  can  reach  to  the  ex- 
tent of  Jehovah's  riches. 

And  these  blessings  are  excellent.  We  do 
not  deem  worthless  things  riches,  be  they  as 
abundant  as  they  may.  A  mass  of  sand 
or  a  heap  of  pebbles  would  never  be  called 
a  treasure.  Riches  consist  in  things  that 
are  of  high  value. 

And  what  so  precious  as  the  mercies 
God  has  in  store  for  sinners  ?  It  is  as  im- 
possible to  estimate  their  value,  as  to  mea- 
sure their  abundance.  We  are  as  unable 
rightly  to  appreciate  them,  as  we  are  to  ex- 
haust them.  We  can  no  more  say  of  any 
one  of  them,  "  I  know  the  utmost  worth  of 
that  blessing,  or  the  utmost  sweetness  of 
that  mercy,"  than  we  can  say,  "  I  have 
taken  it  all  ;  there  is  none  of  it  left."  The 
least  of  these  mercies  is  worth  more  than  a 
world.  We  may  not  think  so,  but  every 
one  out  of  this  world  thinks  so.  Our  de- 
parted friends  think  so,  glorified  spirits 
think  so,  angels  think  so,  devils  think  so, 
God  thinks  so,  and  before  a  hundred  years 
are  past,  you  and  I,  brethren,  shall  think 
so,  and  in  the  end  every  living  creature 


MAN'S  NEED  SUPPLIED  FROM  GOD'S  RICHES. 


241 


who  can  ttiink    at  all   in  the  universe  of 
God. 

With  these  two  ideas  then  in  his  mind, 
the  Christian  may  say,  "  I  am  poor  and 
needy,  hut  there  is  wealth  in  God,  abun- 
dant and  e.xcellent  riches,  and  all  suited  to 
ii.y  wanls.  I  am  iiuilty,  hut  I  see  in  him 
a  mercy  that  is  boundless  ;  no  crimes  can 
surpass  it,  no  provocations  can  be  too  great 
for  it.  I  am  naked  too,  but  I  see  there  a 
robe  to  cover  me ;  it  is  so  lartje,  that  it 
can  conceal  all  my  shame,  and  so  splen- 
did, that  it  can  make  even  such  a  soul 
as  mine  appear  fair  and  beauteous.  I  am 
polluted,  but  there  is  a  fountain  before 
me,  which  can  cleanse  me  from  every 
spot  and  stain.  I  am  comfortless,  but  there 
is  abounding  consolation,  there  is  the  fulness 
of  joy  for  me,  in  God  my  Saviour.  I  am 
weak,  weak  beyond  my  power  to  tell,  flesh 
and  heart  fiil  me  henr>alh  mv  weakness, 
but  with  the  Lord  Jehovah  is  everlasting 
strength.  I  am  starving,  but  there  is  food 
enough  and  to  spare  in  my  Father's  house  ; 
the  bread  of  life  and  the  water  of  life  are 
ihcre,  yea,  there  lies  spread  out  a  feast,  a 
large  and  joyous  banquet,  for  every  starv- 
ing soul." 

But  why,  we  may  ask,  does  tlie  apostle 
call  these  riches  of  grace  "  riches  in  glo- 
ry?"    Perhaps  for  several  reasons. 

Here  I  must  observe  that  there  is  a  pe- 
culiar indistinctness  about  many  of  St. 
Paul's  expressions,  arising,  not  from  any 
confusion  in  his  heaven-taught  mind,  hut 
probably  from  a  crowd  of  ideas  entering  his 
mind  together  as  he  writes,  and  from  an 
effort  on  his  part  to  give  utterance  to  them 
all.  Fie  adopts  a  word  that  expresses  no 
one  of  them  clearly,  but  glances  at  all  of 
them.  We  must  not  attempt  therefore  to 
confine  expressions  of  this  kind  in  his  wri- 
tings to  any  one  particular  meaning.  We 
must  rather  make  a  hallowed  use  of  their 
vagueness,  and  lal^or  to  take  in  all  the  va- 
riety and  fulness  ot  meaning  they  contain. 

Thus  here — the  term  "  riches  in  glory" 
conveys  at  first  no  distinct  idea  to  us.  It 
may  refer  to  heaven,  the  residence  of  God 
and  the  storehouse  of  spiritual  blessings. 
Or  the  expression  may  be  equivalent  to 
"glorious  riches,"  and  then  we  may  give  it 
a  very  wide  meaning.  It  may  mean  that 
tliese  riches  are  in  tliemselves  glorious, 
magnificent  as  well  as  excellent  and  abun- 
dant ;  or  that  they  are  riches  which  bring 
much   glory  to   him   that  possesses  them, 


riches  honoral)ly  acquired  and  honorably 
spent  ;  or  that  they  are  glorious  to  tliose 
that  receive  them,  glorious  in  their  tenden- 
cy and  use.  They  not  only  come  out  of 
glory,  they  lead  to  glory.  Earthly  riches 
are  generally  debasing.  To  possess  them 
in  any  abundance,  is,  in  almost  every  case, 
to  be  injured  by  them.  O  I  he  minds  that 
riches  liave  blinded  !  O  the  hearts  thai 
riches  have  hardened  !  O  the  immortal 
souls  that  riches  have  destroyed  !  But  the 
riches  of  God's  grace  never  degrade  or  de- 
file.  They  purify,  and  ennoble,  and  ele- 
vale.  They  assimilate  us  to  tliemselves, 
and  they  go  on  doing  so,  till  in  the  em!  they 
make  us  glorious,  meet  to  be  the  glorious 
irrhahitants  of  a  glorious  world. 

We  have  proceeded  thus  far  with  the 
text.  We  have  looked  at  the  view  it  af- 
fords us,  first,  of  our  great  need,  and  then 
of  God's  great  wealth  ; — 

III.  Let  us  go  on  to  the  supply  tvliich  the 
apostle  anticipates  for  this  necessity  out  of 
this  wea/fh ;  "  My  God  shall  supply  all 
your  need  according  to  his  riches  in  glory, 
by  Ciirist  Jesus."  He  brings  one  of  these 
two  things,  you  observe,  to  bear  on  the- 
other.  He  puts  them  together  side  by  side,, 
and  intimates  that  there  is  a  connection  be- 
tween tiiem,  that  the  one  is  adapted  to,  and 
intended  and  ready  for,  the  other — Gods 
wealth  for  man's  poverty,  God's  abundanc*- 
for  our  need. 

The  supply  we  are  to  receive,  he  repre^. 
sents  as  certain.  His  language  expresses 
a  strong  conviction  of  its  certainty,  for  he 
does  not  pray  that  God  may  give  it  us,  he 
tells  us  that  he  certainly  will  give  it. 
There  is  faith  in  his  words,  and  great  faith, 
as  well  as  gratitude.  He  seems  to  feel  as 
sure  that  his  Philippian  friends  will  have 
their  wants  supplied,  as  he  is  that  his  own 
have  been  supi)lied.  '•  You  have  helped 
me,"  he  .says  ;  "  so  certainly  will  my  God 
help  you.  He  who  has  been  so  mindful  of 
me  in  my  necessity,  will  never  be  unmind- 
ful of  you  in  yours.  He  is  n*,y  God,  and 
because  he  is  mine,  blessed  be  his  name  ! 
I  can  trust  him.  I  can  trust  him  for  my 
self,  and  no  less  confidently  for  you.  H»; 
will  supply  all  your  need." 

And  this  supply  he  describes  also  as 
most  ahundant.  It  is  to  be  a  supply  for 
"  all"  our  need,  and  this,  not  according  to 
our  necessities,  but  "  according  to  God's 
riches."  And  it  is  to  partake  too  of  t)>e 
character   of  these  riches ;  for  it  is  to  be 


242 


MAN'S  NEED  SUPPLIED  FROM  GOD'S  RICHES. 


"  according  to  liis  riches  in  glory,"  a.  glori- 
ous supply,  putting  honor  on  us  as  we  re- 
ceive it,  and  bringing  honor  to  God  as  he 
bcbtows  it.  It  is  to  be  suited  to  his  char- 
acter,  not  to  ours  ;  commensurate  with  his 
magnificence,  rather  than  with  our  poverty 
or  meanness. 

But  then  we  must  remember  that  it  is 
our  real  need  that  is  to  be  supplied,  not  our 
imaginary  need.  We  are  not  promised 
here  that  which  we  desire,  or  that  which 
we  suppose  we  want  ;  but  that  which  God 
sees  we  want,  and  which  perhaps  we  do 
not  at  all  desire.  His  supplies  are  to  meet 
our  necessities,  not  our  wislies.  Some- 
times they  may  be  in  direct  opposition  to 
our  wishes.  We  may  long  for  rest,  and 
he  may  give  us  disquietude.  We  may 
say,  "  Now  most  surely  we  need  consola- 
tion," but  he  may  yet  withhold  his  conso- 
lation, or  even  overspread  our  souls  with  a 
thicker  darkness.  But  still  he  will  supply 
"all  our  need  ;"  he  will  meet  every  real 
want  and  real  exigency  of  the  soul,  and 
fully  meet  it ;  there  shall  be  no  void  left. 
Taking  into  view  their  character,  their  cir- 
.^umstances,  and  their  high  destination,  the 
great  God  will  so  deal  with  the  people  he 
3oves,  that  he  could  not  possibly  deal  with 
Ihem  more  bountifully  or  more  munifi- 
icently.  "  No  good  thing  will  he  withhold 
from  them."  They  shall  have  every  thing 
•which  .can  contribute  to  their  welfare,  and 
rhave  it  In  the  richest  measure. 

And  notice  the  channel  through  which 
this  abundant  provision  is  to  come  to  us. 
Our  God  is  to  send  it  us  '•  by  Christ  Je- 
.sus." 

In  telling  'Us  this,  the  Holy  Spirit  inti- 
mates that  the  supplies  here  promised  us 
SiVc  not  mere  things  of  course  ;  not  the  gifts 
■o^  God  as  the  God  of  nature,  whose  "  ten- 
i-der  mercies  are  over  all  his  works,"  but 
his  gifts  as  the  God  of  grace.  They  come 
to  us  in  a  peculiar  manner.  We  receive 
them,  not  as  the  angels  are  receiving  every 
moment  light  and  joy  from  God,  and  as  ev- 
ery living  thing  is  receiving  from  him  life 
and  support,  but  as  no  other  creature  re- 
ceives any  blessing — -llirough  a  Mediator, 
"  by  Christ  Jesus." 

The  apostle  says  that  they  come  through 
Christ,  because,  in  the  first  place,  Christ 
purchased  them  for  us.  We  had  forfeited 
them,  but  they  were  all  regained  for  us  by 
Christ's  humiliation  and  blood.  "  Ye 
know,"    he    says  in    another   place,  "  the 


grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  though 
he  was  rich,  yet  for  our  sakes  he  became 
poor,  that  we  through  his  poverty  might  be 
rich."  And  they  all  centre  in  Christ ;  are 
all  made  over,  not  in  the  first  instance 
from  God  to  us,  but  from  God  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  for  us,  as  our  representative  and  head. 
And  then  again,  they  are  all  communica- 
ted to  us  by  Christ.  First  he  purchases 
them  for  us,  then  he  receives  them  for  us, 
and  then  he  bestows  them  on  us.  Just  as 
God  has  caused  light  to  dwell  in  the  sun, 
and  diffuses  light  over  the  rejoicing  earth 
by  means  of  that  sun,  so  he  has  made  the 
blessed  Jesus  the  storehouse  of  all  his  abun- 
dance, so  he  has  ordained  that  all  the 
riches  of  grace  and  glory  that  will  ever 
gladden  sinful  men,  shall  come  out  of  the 
fulness  he  has  placed  in  him.  He  will 
supply  our  need,  not  as  the  unseen  God, 
but  as  the  glorified  Son  of  Man. 

And  it  is  the  connection  it  has  with  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  which  makes  the  sup- 
ply provided  for  us  so  certain,  so  abundant, 
and  so  glorious.  It  must  be  certain,  for  it 
is  the  stipulated  reward  of  the  Redeemer's 
sufferings  ;  it  must  be  abundant,  for  those 
sufferings  were  of  infinite  worth  and  mer- 
ited an  infinite  recompense  ;  it  must  be  glo- 
rious, for  the  bestowing  of  it  is  to  bring 
glory  to  this  mighty  Saviour,  a  glory  that 
is  to  be  his  highest  and  brightest  glory,  to 
satisfy  his  soul,  and  make  him  an  object 
of  admiration  and  wonder  to  assembled 
worlds. 

And  now,  turning  to  ourselves,  let  us 
ask  what  are  the  practical  lessons  we  have 
to  learn. 

If  we  have  really  taken  the  Lord  for  our 
God,  one  is  contentment  with  our  present  lot, 
be  that  lot  what  it  may.  "  God,"  says  this 
text,  "  shall  supply,  abundantly  supply 
all  your  need."  These  are  indeed  the 
words  of  a  fellow-creature  only,  and  ad- 
dressed by  him  to  others,  but  they  are  so 
spoken,  that  we  may  safely  regard  thejn 
as  a  solemn  declaration  and  promise  ad- 
dressed by  the  command  of  Jehovah  to 
ourselves.  You  see  then  what  must  follow, 
Christian  brethren — cither  that  God  has 
forgotten  for  the  first  lime  the  declaration 
of  ids  lips,  or  that  you  have  no  cause  what- 
ever to  complain  of  your  condition.  There 
may  be  much  to  try  and  grieve  you  in  it, 
mudi  that  you  may  wish  altered,  but  you 
must  not  dare  to  look  upward  and  say, 
"  Why  is  this  ?"     Your  real  need  is  all 


THE  GRACE  OF  OUR  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST. 


248 


supplied.  You  may  read  this  text,  and 
feel  assured  that  it  is.  You  may  not  have 
all  your  desire,  nor  all  you  think  really 
desirable  for  you  ;  i)ut  you  have  all,  and 
all  to  the  very  utmost,  that  it  would  bo 
good  for  you  to  have.  Even  in  iiis  abun- 
dant wealth,  the  Lord  could  not  give  you 
any  thing  more  without  giving  you  a  curse. 
It  would  not  be  a  supply  of  your  necessity, 
it  would  be  a  burden  wliich  sooner  or  later 
would  hinder  and  oppress  you.  O  say  no 
more  then.  "  I  am  left  alone  ;  I  am  over- 
looked." Say  rather  with  Paul  in  this 
chapter,  "  I  have  learned  in  whatsoever 
state  I  am,  therewith  to  be  content."  It 
must  be  from  texts  of  this  kind,  that  we 
must  learn  contentment.  Nothing  teaches 
it  so  persuasively  and  effectually,  as  con- 
templating the  abounding  greatness  of  Je- 
hovah, and  feeling  that  this  great  Jehovah 
is  ours,  our  own  in  all  his  magnificence,  to 
be  hoped  in  and  enjoyed. 

Another  lesson  we  must  learn  is  confi- 
dence for  the  future.  As  we  try  to  look 
into  it,  the  future  often  appears  to  us  per- 
haps a  dreary  scene.  We  can  hardly 
bear  to  look  into  it,  so  crowded  does  it  seem 
with  difliculties,  perils,  and  sorrows.  But 
here  comes  this  text,  and  without  throwing 
any  light  on  this  dark  future,  without  chas- 
ing away  one  of  its  apprehended  evils  or 
promising  to  do  so,  tells  us  that  we  have 
nothing  to  fear-  in  it.  "  True,"  it  says, 
"  you  may  find  it  a  desert,  a  dry  and  bar- 
ren one  ;  true  also,  you  are  weak,  and 
helpless,  and  weary  ;  but  go  into  it.  Your 
God  shall  supply  all  your  need  in  it.  He 
will  open  fountains  for  you  in  that  wilder- 
ness, and  streams  in  that  desert.  Mercies 
whicJi  you  do  not  anticipate,  shall  spring 
up  around  you  as  you  go  along,  and  in 
such  abundance  and  often  in  a  manner  so 
glorious,  that  you  shall  be  half  overcome 
with  admiration  and  thankfulness  as  you 
receive  them.  There  is  an  infinite  fulness 
in  God,  your  Saviour ;  an  inexliaustible 
store  of  provisions  and  blessings :  and  all 
is  ready  for  your  need.  There  are  riches 
enougii  to  satisfy  millions  all  waiting  to 
enrich  you." 

O  that  you  would  believe  this,  and  be 
"  quiet  from  the  fear  of  evil !"  O  that  you 
more  aimed  to  be  quiet  !  Believe  it,  breth- 
ren, nothing  honors  God  more  than  a  sim- 
ple belief  of  his  promises  and  a  simple  trust 
in  his  love.  There  is  nothing  he  has  more 
labored  in  his  word  to  press  on  you,  and 


encourage  and  strengthen  in  you.  He 
tells  you  qf  his  amazing  mercy  to  give 
birth  in  you  to  this  trust  in  him,  and  then 
he  lays  bare  before  you  his  glory  and 
greatness  to  foster  and  cherish  it.  The 
Lord  grant  that  you  may  possess  and  enjoy 
more  of  it  every  day  ! 


SERMON  LI. 

THE  SEVENTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTEK,  IRINITY. 

THE  GRACE  OF  OUR  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST. 

2  ConiNTiiiA.N's  VIII.  9. — "  Ye  know  the  grace  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that,  though  he  was 
rich,  yet  for  your  sokes  he  became  poor,  that  ye 
through  his  poverty  might  be  rich" 

Here,  brethren,  in  these  few  words,  is 
the  go.spel,  its  whole  sum  and  substance. 
If  we  rightly  understand  these  few  words, 
we  understand  enough  to  make  us  happy 
forever  ;  and  if  we  really  believe  the  pre- 
cious truths  they  contain,  we  shall  be  hap- 
py forever.  There  is  a  power  in  them, 
which  can  save  our  souls  alive. 

They  offer  four  points  for  our  considera- 
tion. 

I.  The  original  condition  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 

"  lie  was  rich,"  says  the  apostle  ;  and 
in  saying  this,  he  plainly  a.sserts  his  pre- 
exislence,  his  existence  before  he  came  into 
our  world  ;  for  where  on  earth  was  he 
rich  ?  Where  are  the  earthly  treasures  he 
renounced  ?  Shgill  we  look  for  them  in 
the  stable  at  Bethleliem,  or  go  in  search  of 
them  to  the  cottage  of  Joseph  at  Nazareth  ? 
We  shall  go  in  vain.  No  ;  regard  him  as 
a  mere  man,  coming  into  existence  for  the 
first  time  in  our  world,  and  the  apostle's 
words  have  no  meaning  in  them. 

But  there  is  more  than  pre-existcnce  as- 
serted in  them.  We  fall  short  of  tlieir 
meaning  unless  we  ascribe  to  the  Lord 
Jesufi  7mich  greatness  and  much  g/ory  in  the 
ctemity  he  came  from.  He  was  not  only 
there,  he  was  "  rich"  there. 

Now  this  term,  when  applied  to  a  fel. 
low-creature,  we  understand  at  once. 
We  call  him  rich,  who,  l>esides  having 
what  is  neces.sary  for  his  actual  wants,  has 
the  means  of  gratifying  many  of  his  d©. 


244 


THE  GRACE  OF  OUR  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST. 


sires.  Give  the  word  its  mast  enlarged 
meaning,  and  then  it  designates  one  wlio 
possesses  more  than  he  can  employ  for  his 
own  use,  and  who  consequently  is  able  to 
supply  the  wants  and  desires  of  many 
others.  Imagine  then  a  Being  inhabiting 
a  world  of  glory,  with  all  its  resources  at 
his  command,  and  all  its  immense  domin- 
ions owning  him  as  their  Lord.  Conceive 
of  him  as  rich  in  heaven,  and  rich  there  in 
heavenly  tilings;  rich  in  the  estimation  of 
glorious  angels,  so  rich  that  they  go  to  him 
for  all  they  need,  and  depend  on  him  for  all 
they  desire,  and  mean  to  do  so  forever, 
and  know  they  can  do  so  forever  without 
exhausting  or  even  diminishing  his  boundless 
treasures.  And  then  look  at  the  mighty 
universe  ;  take  a  survey  of  world  after 
world  ;  and  whatever  you  see  happy  or 
excellent  in  any  one  of  them,  trace  that  to 
this  amazing  Being.  Find  it  where  you 
will,  he  created  it,  it  came  from  him  at 
at  first}  it  is  still  his  ;  so  that  make  it  over 
to  him  again,  lay  down  at  his  feet  the 
whole  creation,  you  have  not  added  an 
atom  to  his  wealth  nor  a  span  to  his  pos- 
sessions ;  you  have  only  given  him  his 
own.  And  then  go  a  step  further.  Im- 
agine him  as  needing  nothing  of  all  he 
possesses  ;  so  inconceivably  rich  in  him- 
self, as  to  be  independent  of  heaven  and 
earth  and  all  they  contain  ;  incapable  of 
having  his  happiness  augmented  by  the 
treasures  of  the  universe,  and  equally  in- 
capable of  having  it  impaired  by  their  loss. 
But  it  is  useless  to  labor  thus.  We  can 
form  no  one  adequate  conception  of  the 
original  greatness  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
All  we  can  say  is,  he  was  God,  the  self- 
existent,  boundless  Jehovah  ;  no  lofty  an- 
gel, DO  inferior  deity,  but  "  very  God  of 
very  God,"  possessing  in  himself  all  the 
fulness  of  the  divine  perfections,  sharing 
with  his  eternal  Father  in  all  he  was  and 
enjoyed.  Nay,  he  was  the  eternal  Father, 
one  with  him  in  essence  as  well  as  in 
glory;  and  so  entirely  one  with  him,  that 
the  moment  we  attempt  to  sever  liim,  in 
his  divine  character,  from  his  Father,  or  to 
conceive  of  him  as  thus  severed,  we  are 
confounded,  or  worse — we  degrade  and  per- 
haps "  deny  th(^  Lord  that  bought  us." 
There  is  wiiat  we  call  a  distinction  of  per- 
sons in  the  one  glorious  Godhead,  hut  it  is 
a  distinction  which  is  dangerous  for  us 
even  to  try  to  comprehend. 

Sucl»  was  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  but  the 


text  calls  on  us  to  view  him  in  a  very  dif- 
ferent condition. 

II.  It  sets  before  us  next  Ihc  stale  to  which 
he  humbled  himself. 

"  He  became  poor,"  it  tells  us ;  but 
how  ?  Not  as  men  often  become  poor,  by 
the  loss  of  their  former  wealth.  Clirist  as 
God  could  lose  nothing.  He  never  parted, 
he  never  could  part  for  a  moment,  with  his 
divine  fulness  or  with  any  portion  of  it. 
It  is  as  inseparable  from  !iim  as  his  exist- 
ence. Wh;it  then  are  we  to  understand  ? 
Simply  this — that  the  eternal  God  conceal- 
ed or  veiled  his  glory  ;  that  he  assumed 
and  appeared  in  a  new  character,  and  that 
a  character  immeasurably  below  his  own. 
The  aposlle  does  not  expressly  say  so,  but 
he  evidently  speaks  of  him  now  as  man  ; 
still  in  fact  the  everlasting  Jehovah,  still 
rich  as  ever  in  the  plenitude  of  his  God- 
head, but  allying  himself  to  man  his  crea- 
ture, taking  on  him  the  nature  of  that 
creature,  and  manifesting  himself  in  his 
form.  The  same  Being  who  was  rich  as 
God,  made  himself  poor  by  becoming  man. 
The  mere  circumstance  of  his  assuming 
our  nature  was  to  him  an  unutterable 
humiliation.  We  can  understand  but  lit- 
tle of  it.  We  cannot  measure  the  depth 
of  it,  for  we  cannot  measure  the  height  of 
his  original  greatness;  but  let  us  think 
for  a  moment — 

Of  all  God's  rational  creatures,  man  is 
the  lowest.  We  know  not  how  many  or- 
ders of  beings  there  are  above  us,  but  this 
we  know — there  are  none  below  us.  Now 
could  it  have  been  conceived  that  the  great 
Jehovah  was  about  to  take  on  hini  a  crea- 
ture's form,  we  could  tell  at  once  what 
form  we  should  have  given  him.  We 
should  have  gene  to  the  very  summit  of 
the  creation,  and  placed  him  on  a  level 
with  the  highest  archangels  there  ;  and 
then  there  would  have  been  a  depth  in  this 
act  of  condescension,  which  would  have 
astonished  us.  But  how  did  God  act  ? 
"  He  took  not  on  him  the  nature  of  angels." 
He  passed  down  through  one  order  of  be- 
ings after  another,  till  he  sunk  to  the  very 
bottom  of  his  rational  creation,  and  took  on 
him  the  nature  of  man  ;  and  notour  nature 
as  he  gave  it  at  first  to  Adam,  fair  and 
glorious,  but  our  nature  as  Adam  has  in- 
jured and  blighted  it  ;  in  one  sense,  our 
fallen  nature — its  weakness,  its  infirmities, 
its  liability  to  pain,  and  misery,  and  death  ; 
save  its  pollution,  every  thing  connected 


THE  GRACE  OF  OUR  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST 


245 


with  it,  that  can  brand  it  with  dishonor.  I 
Hence  he  is  said  not  only  to  have  bren  j 
''  made  flesh,"  but  to  have  come  into  | 
our  world  '•  in  the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh."  j 
He  took  not  on  him  our  sinfulness — God 
forbid  !  but  he  took  on  him  our  pov- 
erty as  sinners,  as  well  as  our  poverty  as 
men. 

And  we  must  go  lower  yet.  View  him 
as  a  man,  he  was  poor;  poor,  brethren, 
even  among  us,  the  poor  worms  of  the 
dust ;  for  he  assumed  our  nature,  not  in  its 
highest,  but  in  one  of  its  very  lowest  con- 
ditions. No  fond  expectations  which  the 
people  who  had  looked  for  him  had  formed 
concerning  him,  were  realized.  No  un- 
earthly palace  was  let  down  from  tlie 
skies  to  be  his  dwelling  place;  no  mon- 
arch was  driven  from  his  throne  for  him  to 
sit  on  it.  A  stable  was  his  first  habitation, 
and  a  manger  his  first  bed  ;  the  wife  of  a 
carpenter  was  his  parent,  fishermen  were 
his  companions,  and  women  of  the  hum- 
blest rank  his  attendants  and  even  his  ben- 
efactors ;  they  "  ministered  to  him  of  their 
substance."  Hear  his  own  touching  de- 
scription of  his  poverty  ;  "  The  foxes  have 
holes  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests, 
but  the  Son  of  Man  hath  not  where  to  lay 
his  head."  And  observe  in  what  a  simple 
yet  striking  manner  the  same  fact  is  intimat- 
ed by  St.  John.  "  Every  man,"  he  says  at 
the  end  of  his  seventh  chapter,  "  went  unto 
his  own  house  ;"  but  why  tell  us  this,  a 
circumstance  so  unimportant  ?  Only  it 
would  seem  to  make  us  notice  the  next 
thing  he  tells  us — "  Jesus  went  unto  the 
mount  of  Olives."  Among  those  persecuting 
Jews,  there  was  not  one  at  the  close  of  the 
day,  who  had  not  a  habitation  to  go  to. 
Jesus  only  was  obliged  to  seek  a  shelter 
for  him.self  among  the  rocks  of  a  moun- 
tain. 

And  amidst  all  this,  he  was  poor  in 
character.  "  He  made  himself,"  we  are 
told,  "of  no  reputation."  "He  was  de- 
spised," we  are  told  again,  "  despised  and 
rejected  of  men."  Rut  a  little  before,  he 
had  been  in  heaven  an  object  of  boundless 
adoration  ;  the  angels  adored  him  as  they 
adored  none  other  ;  they  adored  none  but 
him  ;  now  miserable  men  scorned  him. 
Such  abject  things  as  you  and  I,  creatures 
not  worthy  to  breathe  his  air,  hid  in  loath- 
inii  and  disgust  their  faces  from  him. 
They  dr-rided  him,  they  spat  on  him,  they 
thought  his  very  presence  in  their  world  a 


degradation  to  it,  and  wished  to  sweep  him 
out  of  it. 

And  while  bearing  all  this,  he  was  poor 
in  comfort.  What  matters  poverty,  breth- 
ren, what  matters  shame  or  ill  treatment, 
if  God  is  shining  into  our  hearts,  and 
giving  us  heavenly  con.solations  there  ? 
Weak  as  we  are,  we  can  then  bear  any 
thing.  But  there  were  times  when  the 
blessed  Jesus  was  almost  a  stranger  to 
these  consolations.  Support  indeed  he  had 
constantly  from  his  Fatlier,  and  at  times 
doubtless  much  solace  and  peace  ;  but  he 
seems  to  have  received  less  abiding  com- 
fort in  his  aflhclions,  less  of  the  outpouring 
of  heavenly  joy,  than  many  of  his  people, 
and  to  have  sulFered  much  more  than  any 
of  them  from  the  absence  of  it.  In  com- 
parison with  what  he  endured  on  this  ac- 
count, all  his  other  troubles  seem  to  have 
been  light  to  him.  He  felt  the  treachery 
of  Judas,  he  was  liurt  at  the  cowardice  of 
Peter  and  the  desertion  of  his  other  disci- 
ples, but  galling  as  these  were  to  his  ten- 
der soul,  they  wrung  from  him  no  com- 
plaint.  At  length  however  his  Father  for- 
sook him,  and  then  indeed  he  felt  poor. 
He  could  not  bear  poverty  like  this.  It 
forced  from  him,  and  not  in  an  hour  of 
bodily  ease,  observe,  but  amidst  the  agony 
of  the  cross,  in  an  hour  when,  we  might 
have  said,  he  can  be  alive  only  to  the 
pangs  of  expiring  nature — it  forced  from 
him  that  cry  of  anguish,  "  My  God,  my 
God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?" 

And  he  sunk  lower  even  than  this.  "  He 
bowed  his  head,  and  gave  up  the  ghost." 
He  died  a  sinner's  death,  and  laid  himself 
down  in  a  sinner's  grave.  Here  was  pov- 
erty indeed  !  I  need  not  say,  brethren,  that 
death  is  humiliating  even  to  degraded  and 
miserable  man  ;  no  one  can  look  on  it  with- 
out feeling  it  to  be  so  ;  but  for  the  Lord  of 
life,  the  King  of  glory  to  come  under  the 
power  of  death,  to  appear  as  a  mere  mass 
of  clay,  a  thing  bereft  of  life  and  conscious- 
ness, that  which  they  who  love  it  most, 
bury  out  of  their  sight — who  can  compre- 
hend such  poverty  as  this  ?  who  can  fathom 
such  humiliation  ?  Well  may  we  ask,  from 
what  motive  and  for  what  great  object  did 
the  Lord  submit  to  it  ? 

His  motive,  the  apostle  says,  was  grace  ; 
nothing  else  but  the  kindness  of  his  own 
heart,  his  own  most  free,  sovereign,  l)ound- 
less  mercy.  But  we  must  pass  this  by  tc 
notice — 


846 


THE  GRACE  OF  OUR  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST. 


III.  The  end  he  had  in  vieio  in  it,  the  ob- 
ject he  aimed  to  accomplish  by  this  unpar- 
alleled humiliation.  '•  For  your  sakes," 
says  the  text,  "  he  became  poor,  that  ye 
through  his  poverty  might  be  rich." 

Observe  tlie  picture  given  us  here  of  our 
natural  condition,  the  condition  in  which  you 
and  1,  brethren,  entered  the  world,  and  in 
which  many  of  us  still  continue.  It  is  a  state 
of  poverty,  a  state  of  want  and  destitution. 
I  refer  not  to  the  things  which  concern  the 
body.  God  may  have  given  us  enough  of 
these,  and  more  than  enough,  for  the  three- 
score years  and  ten  during  which  the  body 
is  likely  to  need  them.  I  refer  to  the  never 
dying  soul,  to  our  situation  as  rational  and 
immortal  creatures,  creatures  who  are  going 
into  a  state  of  existence,  far  away  from  all 
we  now  possess,  far  away  from  the  world 
and  all  that  it  contains.  In  this  light  we 
are  poor  indeed  ;  so  poor,  that  in  all  the 
wide  universe,  look  where  we  will,  there 
is  nothing  we  can  call  our  own  but  sin  and 
wretchedness.  Poverty  is  indeed  too  feeble 
a  word  to  convey  any  adequate  idea  of  our 
forlorn  condition.  We  are  not  only  desti- 
tute of  all  good,  but  laden  with  evils.  "  A 
man,"  it  has  well  been  said,  "may  be 
poor,  and  yet  owe  nothing  to  any  one  ;  but 
sin  is  not  merely  want,  it  is  positive  debt. 
And  a  man  who  is  both  poor  and  in  debt, 
may  be  healthy  and  strong  ;  so  that  by  dili- 
gence and  hard  labor,  he  may  not  only  pro- 
cure the  necessaries  of  life,  but  even  be 
able  in  time  to  do  justice  to  his  creditors  ; 
but  sin  is  disease  as  well  as  debt;  it  is 
the  sickness  of  the  soul,  which  wastes  its 
strength,  and  renders  it  incapable  of  doing, 
nay,  disinclined  to  attempt,  any  thing  for 
the  recovery  of  its  health  and  vigor."  And 
true  it  is  that  sin  stupifies  us.  It  renders 
us  insensible  to  our  real  situation  and  cir- 
cumstances, so  that  though  we  talk  about 
our  souls  and  eternity,  we  naturally  care 
nothing  about  them,  and  never  act  or  think 
with  a  reference  to  them.  We  are  in  a 
dream,  and  a  dream  which,  if  God  leaves 
us  alone,  nothing  but  death  can  break. 
You  remember  the  Laodicean  church.  "I 
am  rich,"  she  said,  "and  increased  with 
goods,  and  have  need  of  nothing" — it  is  the 
language  of  human  nature;  it  has  been 
the  language  of  every  heart  that  is  now 
beating  here  ;  it  is  in  too  many  instances 
their  language  still;  but  what  says  (Jod 
concerning  us  ?  "  Wrctclicd,  and  misera- 
ble, and  poor,  and  blind,  and  naked."     Yes, 


"  wretched,"  even  when  your  hearts  aro 
swelling  with  what  you  deem  happiness, 
wretched  in  the  song,  and  the  dance,  and  all 
the  delights  that  folly  and  thoughtlessnes? 
can  give  ;  and  "  poor,"  poor  amidst  your 
silver  and  gold,  poor  in  your  spacious  homes 
and  their  costly  comforts,  poor  as  you  walk 
over  the  broad  lands  you  call  your  own  ; 
and  "blind,"  as  ignorant  naturally  of  all 
lliat  is  worth  knowing,  as  the  brute  beasts 
that  perish  ;  and  "naked"  too,  naked  as 
sin  can  strip  you,  exposed  amidst  gospel 
light  and  gospel  privileges  to  all  the  dan- 
gers of  your  lost  condition,  as  much  so  till 
you  have  really  put  on  Christ,  as  the  idola- 
ter and  heal  hen. 

Now  the  end  of  our  Lord's  interposition 
on  our  behalf  was  toalter  our  sad  condition. 
It  was  to  make  us  rich  ;  that  is,  to  put  us  in 
possession  not  merely  of  all  that  we  need  as 
rational  and  immortal  beings,  as  creatures 
of  a  spiritual  nature  and  an  endless  exist- 
ence, but  to  supply  our  necessities  so  abun- 
dantly, to  heap  on  us  so  much  more  than 
we  need,  that  no  desire  in  us  shall  be  left 
ungratified,  that  even  in  a  heavenly  world 
we  shall  be  accounted  rich  and  actually  be 
so;  not  pauper.s,  as  it  were,  in  God's  king- 
dom and  house,  but  seated  on  high  there 
among  the  lofty  and  great.  Observe,  the 
apostle  does  not  say  that  Chri.st  became 
poor  to  save  us  or  redeem  us,  but  to  enrich 
us  ;  in  other  words,-  to  make  us  partakers 
of  his  own  boundless  treasures,  his  own 
"  unsearchable  riches"  in  glory.  Look  for 
a  moment  at  the  state  of  the  rich  man  in 
hell.  What  has  that  once  proud  worldling 
now,  which  he  can  call  his  own  ?  WMiat 
is  there  which  he  can  ever  reach  and  make 
his  own  ?  Not  even  a  drop  of  water,  though 
he  seek  for  it  and  struggle  for  it  wiih  his 
whole  soul.  Such  is  a  picture  of  the  utter 
poverty  of  fallen  man.  Look  now  at  the 
beggar  Lazarus.  He  is  carried  to  heaven 
on  the  wings  of  angels  ;  he  is  in  AI)raham's 
bosom,  seated  on  one  of  the  liiglx  st  seats 
at  the  heavenly  banquet  ;  he  is  surround- 
ed with  all  the  glory  and  blessedness  of 
God.  Such  is  the  condition  to  whicli  Christ 
became  incarnate  to  raise  us.  I  Ir  visited 
our  world,  not  merely  that  he  might  pluck 
us  as  brands  from  the  burning — this  was 
only  a  preparatory  .step  to  the  design  lie 
had  in  vi(-w  ;  his  great  object  was  to  make 
us  the  cliildicn  of  God  and  exalt  us  to  ever- 
lasting life.  Before  he  became  poor,  we 
were  debtors  who  had  nothing  to  pay  ;  and 


THE  GRACE  OF  OUR  LORD  JESUS  CHRIST. 


247 


now,  if  we  are  his,  "  all  things"  aro  ours ; 
the  world  is  ours,  eternity  is  ours,  life  and 
death  are  ours,  things  present  and  tilings  to 
come  ;  all  in  eartli  and  heaven  is  ours,  that 
our  desires  can  grasp  or  our  natures  hold. 

And  notice  the  close  connection  which 
exists  between  the  poverty  of  Christ  and 
these  riches  of  his  people.  The  one  is  re- 
presented here  as  flowing  from  the  other. 
'•  For  our  sakes  he  became  poor,  that" — 
what  ?  that  he  might  pass  through  a  state 
of  earthly  poverty  to  a  state  of  authority 
and  power,  and  exercise  this  autliority  and 
power  in  ennobling  us  ^  We  might  say 
this,  but  the  apostle  does  not  say  it.  He 
makes  no  mention  of  the  Ri^deemer's  lofty 
exaltation  and  greatness.  He  ascribes  all 
wo  receive  from  him  to  his  abasement ;  and 
in  such  a  way  as  if  he  were  determined 
that  we  should  not  misunderstand  him  or 
oveidook  bis  meaning  ;  "  He  became  poor 
for  us,  tliat  we  through  his  poverty  might 
be  rich." 

How  strange  this  language,  atid  yet  liow 
true  !  To  understand  it,  we  must  remem- 
ber that  Christ  became  man,  not  only  for 
our  sakes,  but  to  be  our  representative.  In 
this  character,  he  fulfilled  that  law  which 
we  had  broken,  and  so  magnified  it,  put  so 
much  honor  on  it,  by  the  awful  penalty  he 
paid  to  it  on  the  cross,  that  a  way  is  now 
opened  for  the  safe,  and  honorable,  and 
most  abundant  exercise  of  Jehovah's  mercv 
towards  us.  God  is  [ileased  to  regard  his 
degradation  as  an  atonement  or  expiation 
for  our  sins,  and,  on  our  believing  on  him 
for  salvation,  he  looks  on  his  obedience  or 
righteousness  as  though  it  were  ours,  im- 
puting it  to  us,  and  dealing  with  us  as 
righteous  in  consequence  of  it.  And  thus 
the  Redeemer's  poverty  enriches  us.  All 
this  was  in  Paul's  mind  when  he  M'rote 
these  words,  and  it  is  in  his  mind  still.  It 
is  in  every  man's  mind,  who  understands 
rightly  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
The  whole  church  below  and  the  trium- 
phant church  above,  all  ascribe  the  salva- 
tion they  have  found,  the  riches  they  enjoy, 
to  the  manger  and  the  cross.  And  why  ? 
Because  in  that  manger  and  cross  they  see 
a  great  propitiation  for  their  great  sins.  If 
you  cavil  at  tliis  language,  brethren,  if  your 
judgment  and  feelings  revolt  at  it,  be  as- 
sured that  you  have  yet  to  learn  the  first 
rudiments  of  Christ's  religion.  You  are  in 
a  state  of  complete  darkness  as  to  the  real 
character  and  design  of  Christianity.    Who- 


I  ever  may  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
I  Christ,  you  know  it  not.  A  crucified  Re- 
deemer, a  Redeemer  crucified,  not  for  our 
example  only,  but  mainly  for  our  sins,  as  a 
sacrifice,  an  atonement,  an  expiation — this 
is  the  one  grand  feature,  the  one  grand 
peculiarity  of  the  gospel,  and  never  will 
you  rejoice  in  the  gospel,  never  heartily 
love  or  prize  it,  never  come  under  its  puri- 
fying and  cheering  influence,  never  be  en- 
riched by  it  on  e«rth  or  carried  by  it  to 
heaven,  till  you  view  it  in  this  light;  till 
the  poverty  of  Jesus  Christ  becomes  the 
foundation  of  your  best  hopes  ;  till  his  cross 
gets  so  interwoven  with  all  your  views  of 
God  and  your  feelings  towards  him,  be- 
comes so  mixed  up  with  every  sacred  emo- 
tion in  your  souls,  that  you  could  sum  up 
all  the  religion  you  possess  in  calUng  it 
a  glorying  in  the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ,  a 
knowledge  of  the  love  displayed  in  that 
cross  and  a  heartfelt  experience  of  its  power. 

And  now,  in  conclusion,  let  me  implore 
every  one  of  you  to  ask  himself  what  he 
knows  of  the  grace  he  has  heard  of  to-day  ? 
The  apostle,  you  observe,  speaks  of  a  know- 
ledge of  it,  and  by  this  he  means  something 
more  than  a  knowledge  like  that  we  may 
get  of  any  ordinary  fact  or  science.  He 
has  in  view  such  an  acquaintance  with  it, 
as  we  often  call  experimental.  It  is  the 
result  of  experience.  It  is  a  knowledge  of 
the  same  kind,  as  the  once  di-seased  man 
has  of  the  remedy  which  has  saved  him, 
or  the  once  destitute  beggar  has  of  the 
royal  gift  that  has  enriched  him.  Be  as- 
sured  that  there  is  such  a  knowledge  of 
Christianity  as  this,  and  be  assured  also 
that  it  is  the  only  knowledge  of  it,  which  is 
worth  possessing. 

Ask  yourselves  then,  each  one  for  him- 
self.  Do  I  thus  know  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ?  It  was  once  a  matter  of 
speculation  and  inquiry  with  me  ;  is  it 
now  a  matter  of  experience  ?  Do  I  know 
it  in  my  heart  ?  Is  it  aflecting  my  soul, 
producing  in  my  feelings  and  affections  its 
natural,  legitimate  results  ?  What  do  I 
think  of  my  own  spiritual  condition  ?  Am 
I  conscious  of  that  utter  poverty  in  myself, 
which  this  text  implies  ?  AVhat  do  I  tliink 
of  the  poverty,  the  humiliation  and  death, 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ?  Am  I  resting 
on  it  to  enrich  me  ?  Am  I  building  on  it 
all  my  hopes  of  salvation  and  happiness  ? 
Is  it   actually  enrichinsr   me  ?     Do   I  feel 


that 


has   put   me  in  possession  of  that 


248 


CHRIST  ABLE  TO  KEEP  AND  SAVE. 


which  is  mort  vahiahle  to  me  than  all  I 
possess  besides  ?  something  that  1  rejoice 
in  more  than  1  rejoice  in  any  lliiiig  or  every- 
thing else,  and  could  be  content  with  were 
all  else  thai  is  dear  to  mo  gone  ?  Then 
bless  God,  brethren,  for  his  goodness  to- 
wards you.  Love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
not  only  for  the  grace  he  has  displayed  in 
his  deep  and  voluntary  poverty,  but  for  the 
further  grace  he  has  manifested  in  convey- 
ing the  knowledge  of  it  by  his  Spirit  to  your 
once  senseless  minds.  Strive  to  become 
more  acquainted  with  it ;  to  feel,  and  exem- 
plify, and  embody  in  a  holier  life,  more  of 
its  influence.  There  is  no  surer  test  of  our 
liaving  been  enriched  by  Christ,  than  a  de- 
sire to  be  more  enriched  by  him.  There 
is  no  surer  test  of  knowing  him  aright,  than 
hungering  and  thirsting  after  a  closer  ac- 
quaintance with  him. 

And  let  this  text  stir  you  up  to  a  right 
view  of  your* situation  as  Christians.  It  is 
not  merely  salvation,  that  Christ  has  made 
yours,  but  wealth,  spiritual  riches,  such 
things  as  are  deemed  valuable  in  heaven, 
and  even  now  cause  angels  and  archangels, 
yea,  God  himself,  to  deem  you  rich  on  earth, 
having  in  hand  enough  to  excite  your  won- 
der and  thankfulness,  and  in  prospect  what 
the  apostle  calls  "  all  the  fulness  of  God." 
O  Christian  brethren,  we  seem  almost  as 
ignorant  now  of  our  privileges  in  Christ,  as 
we  once  were  of  our  danger  and  misery 
out  of  him.  To  look  for  one  day  or  one 
hour  into  our  hearts,  into  their  torpor,  and 
death-like  coldness,  and  wretched  sinkings, 
and  low,  paltry  cares — who  could  believe 
that  you  and  I  are  rich  in  Christ  Jesus  ? 
The  poor  sordid  miser  thinks  of  his  gold 
when  any  thing  troubles  him,  and  the 
thought  of  it  comforts  him  ;  but  where 
is  the  comfort  we  sometimes  get  amidst 
worldly  losses  and  bereavements,  from  the 
thought  of  our  treasure  ?  O  let  us  try  to 
lift  lip  our  minds  out  of  the  dust  thoy  are 
cleaving  to  !  This  scripture  seems  to  call 
to  us  in  the  words  of  the  prophet,  "  Awake, 
awake,  put  on  thy  strength,  O  Zion  ;  put 
on  thy  beautiful  garments,  O  Jerusalem. 
Shake  thyself  from  the  dust ;  arise." 


SERMON  LIL 

THE  EIGHTEENTH    SUNDAY    AFTER    TRINITY. 

CHRIST  ABLE  TO  KEEP  AND  SAVE. 

JuDE  24,  25. — "  Now  unto  him  that  is  able  to  keep 
you  from  falling,  and  to  present  you  faultless 
before  the  presence  of  his  glory  with  exceeding 
joy,  to  the  only  loise  God  our  Saviour,  be  glory 
and  majesty,  dominion  and  power,  both  now 
and  ever.     Amen." 

How  fearless,  brethren,  is  the  language 
of  scripture!  We  ministers  often  hesitate 
to  say  this  or  that,  lest  we  should  be  mis- 
understood. Not  so  the  inspired  writers. 
They  wrote  for  the  simple-minded,  and  they 
knew,  let  them  say  what  they  would,  the 
simple-minded  would  not  misunderstand 
them.  And  if  they  do  sometimes  startle  us 
for  a  moment  by  any  thing  they  say,  we 
have  only  to  read  on,  and  there  generally 
follows  .something  that  clears  up  their  mean- 
ing and  lays  our  wonder  to  rest.  Thus,  in 
a  preceding  verse  of  this  epistle,  the  apos- 
tle calls  on  his  fello\v-Chri.stiansto  do  what, 
we  might  say,  they  never  can  do — they  are 
to  "  build  up  themselves  on  their  most  holy 
faith,"  they  are  to  "  keep  themselves  in 
the  love  of  God  ;"  the  Holy  Spirit's  work 
seems  put  on  them.  But  here  comes  this 
verse  and  lets  us  see  that  the  apostle  is  a.s 
mindful  of  our  weakness,  as  we  are  our- 
selves.  He  has  not  been  laying  God's 
work  on  us.  He  has  only  been  calling  on 
us  to  fall  in  with  God's  design  concerning 
us  ;  to  .seek  the  strength  God  is  willing  to 
give  us,  and  to  trust  to  him  to  manifest  in 
us  its  perfection  and  greatness.  We  are 
to  keep  ourselves,  because  (iod  is  able  to 
keep  us.  This  is  likd  bidding  an  infant 
stand,  becau.se  its  mother  is  near  to  hold  it 
up. 

L  The  first  remark  we  may  draw  from 
the  text,  is  this  very  simple  one — ur  are  in 
danger  of  falling,  even  those  of  us  who  are 
really  the  followers  of  the  Lord  Jesus  ;  for 
see,  in  the  first  verse,  to  whom  the  apostle  is 
speaking.  It  is  "  to  them  that  are  sancti- 
fied by  God  the  Father,  and  preserved  in 
Jesus  Christ,  and  called." 

By  "  falling"  he  UKnuis  sinning.  The 
original  word  signifies  stunii)liiig,  imd  may 
hf^  applied  to  any  fal.sc  step  wr  m  ikc  in  our 
Christian  course,  whatever  its  nature  or 
termination. 

There  is  a  notion  among   some  persons, 


CHRIST  ABLE  TO  KEEP  AND  SAVE. 


249 


that  the  soul  once  converted  and  justified,  is 
secure  against  ail  danger,  is  safe  forever, 
fhis  is  not  truth,  it  is  rather  a  perversion 
and  corruption  of  the  truth.  Half  of  the 
warnings  and  promises  too  addressed  to 
pardoned  believers  in  the  scripture,  are 
grounded  on  the  supposition  that  they  are 
in  the  utmost  danger.  And  so,  brethren, 
they  really  are.  We  are  prone  of  our- 
selves to  fall.  What  God  said  of  his  peo- 
ple of  old,  '•  they  love  to  wander,"  he  might 
say  of  us.  If  we  have  any  right  knowlt-dge 
of  our  own  hearts,  we  shall  say  it  of  our- 
selves. And  we  are  assailed  continually 
from  without.  There  are  those  around  us, 
who  want  us  to  fall.  What  is  Satan  doing 
with  us  ?  What  is  the  world  doing  with 
us  ?  Leading  us  on  to  heaven,  and  holding 
us  up  in  the  way  to  it  ?  Alas !  if  they 
would  only  leave  us  alone,  we  would  thank 
them.  Satan  and  the  world  are  doing  all 
they  can  to  throw  us  down,  now  laying  one 
snare  for  our  feet  and  now  another.  Busi- 
ness, pleasure,  society — it  is  all  slippery 
ground.  It  is  hard  work  someiimes  to 
move  about  even  for  a  day  without  a  stum- 
ble. David  felt  this.  It  was  his  deep  sense 
of  it  which  led  him  to  pray,  "  Hold  thou 
up  my  goings  in  thy  paths,  that  my  footsteps 
slip  not." 

And  observe — all  real  Christians  are  in 
danger  of  falling ;  not  the  inexperienced 
only,  but  those  also  who  have  stood  the 
longest  and  seem  the  most  established  in 
the  faith.  Look  again  at  that  word  "  pre- 
served" in  the  first  verse.  They,  the  apos- 
tle says  here,  who  have  been  "  preserved 
in  Jesus  Christ" — they  still  need  keeping. 

And  this  tells  us,  brethren,  that  we  must 
not  trust  to  what  we  call  habits  of  grace  to 
secure  us.  We  must  place  no  reliance  on 
any  long  standing  in  grace.  Indeed  this 
long  standing  is  often  a  snare  to  us  ;  it  puts 
us  off  our  guard.  We  are  fearful  and 
cautious  when  we  first  enter  Christ's  ways. 
We  want  to  know  that  we  are  in  those 
ways  ;  and  in  order  to  this,  we  look  well 
to  our  goings,  we  make  straight  paths  for 
our  feet,  we  look  around  us  and  above  us 
at  every  step ;  but  when  this  point  seems 
settled  and  we  begin  to  feel  some  confidence 
in  Christ  and  some  assurance  of  iiis  love, 
when  we  can  get  on  cheerfully  in  his  ways, 
"We  shall  do  now,"  we  say,  "  tiie  Lord 
has  accepted  us  ;"  and  away  goes  our  fear, 
and  with  it  much  of  our  prayer  and  watch- 
fulness, and  then  after  a  little  comes  a  fall. 
32 


O  how  common  is  it  in  the  church  of  Christ 
for  men  to  trust  in  tlieir  past  sti  ad  fastness 
rather  than  in  (iod's  grace!  But  tiiere  are 
not  fewer  pitfalls  in  the  road,  because  we 
have  been  walking  a  long  while  in  it ;  and  if 
we  say  we  are  become  acquainted  with  its 
snares,  Satan  can  lay  a  new  snare  for  us 
every  day.  In  spite  of  all  our  experience, 
he  will  be  too  crafty  for  us.  In  every  part 
of  the  road,  there  will  spring  up  dangers  we 
know  nothing  about.  Who  has  not  discov- 
ered this  1  Which  of  us  has  not  often  found 
himself  in  new  circumstances,  and  beset 
with  new  temptations,  and  walking  along 
what  has  seemed  to  him  a  new  road  ?  Be- 
sides, an  established  Christian  is  a  nobler 
object  of  attack  than  a  weak  one,  and  when 
thrown  down,  affords  Satan  a  higher  tri- 
umph. His  long  standing,  his  distinguish- 
ed station,  in  the  church  invite  danger. 
"  There,"  says  the  enemy  to  his  soldiers, 
"  are  the  men  you  must  aim  at.  Leave 
those  young  troops  alone.  They  will  give 
way  of  themselves,  or  if  not,  we  shall  gain 
little  by  their  defeat,  there  is  but  little  glory 
in  beating  them.  But  those  well  trained, 
veteran  troops,  those  steady,  practised  war- 
riors— we  shall  do  much  if  we  overtiiiow 
them.'"  And  as  though  to  make  his  old  sc  r- 
vants  feel  their  danger,  almost  all  the  falls 
which  God  tells  us  of  in  his  word,  are  those 
of  long  tried  men.  Noah  falls  after  six 
hundred  years'  experience.  Lot  falls  when 
an  old  man.  And  David,  who  passi  d  so 
safely  through  the  snares  of  youth,  fails  in 
mature  age. 

II.  We  come  now  to  a  second  truth  in 
the  text — no  matter  what  our  danger  is,  llit 
great  God  our  Saviour  is  able  to  keep  us. 

There  is  a  difference  of  opinion  among 
divines  whether  this  scripture  is  to  be  un- 
derstood of  Christ,  or  of  God  the  Father. 
It  would  be  well  perliaps  if  such  questions 
were  not  raised.  We  certainly  must  not 
understand  it  of  Christ  as  man,  for  when 
on  earth,  speaking  as  man,  he  prays  to  his 
Father  to  keep  his  disciples,  as  though  none 
but  the  Fatlier,  the  everlasting  .Jehovah, 
could  keep  them.  But  then,  we  may  say, 
in  his  divine  nature  he  is  the  everlasting 
Jehovah  ;  and  if  we  apply  this  scripture  to 
God,  we  do  in  fact  apply  it  to  him.  He  is 
one  with  God.  He  is  as  much  our  keeper 
in  his  divine  nature,  as  he  was  our  sacrifice 
in  his  human  nature.  And  so  the  apostle 
seems  to  feel,  for  tliough  here  it  is  "  the 
only  wise  God  our  Saviour"  who  is  to  keep 


250 


CHRIST  ABLE  TO  KEEP  AND  SAVE. 


us,  he  says,  in  the  first  verse,  we  are  pre- 
served in  or  by  Jesus  Christ.  Tliis  only 
wise  God  and  this  preserving  Jesus  Christ 
are  in  liis  mind  one  and  the  same. 

The  ability  of  Clirist  to  keep  us  is  ground- 
ed on  his  power  over  us,  and  over  those 
who  are  the  tempters  of  us.  Our  danger 
lies  partly  in  our  own  liearts.  He  can 
master  those  hearts,  and,  by  the  agency  of 
his  Holy  Spirit,  sway  and  incline  them  as 
he  pleases.  Unruly  and  tumultuous  as 
tlieir  desires  seem,  they  areas  much  under 
his  control  as  the  waves  of  the  sea,  yea, 
as  the  stars  of  heaven,  which  never  deviate 
from  their  course.  And  the  same  as  to  the 
world  and  Satan  ;  he  can  overrule  their 
temptations,  he  can  moderate  them,  and 
when  he  pleases,  he  can  put  a  stop  to  them. 
"Be  of  good  cheer,"  he  says  to  us,  "I  have 
overcome  the  world."  "Greater,"  says 
St.  John,  "  is  he  that  is  in  you,  than  he  that 
is  in  the  world."  Hence  we  read  in  this 
epistle,  of  the  Lord  "  rebuking  Satan," 
beating  him  back  and  silencing  him.  And 
now  all  this  magnifies  the  Lord's  power! 

Conceive  of  a  vessel  with  its  planks 
loose,  its  sails  rent,  and  its  pilot  ignorant 
and  half  blind  ;  and  then  place  it  among 
shoals  and  rocks,  with  a  storm  raging — 
there  is  a  picture  of  the  Christian's  condi- 
tion in  the  woild.  That  wretched  vessel 
you  would  say,  is  a  doomed  one;  it  will 
inevitably  be  lost.  But  suppose  you  are 
told  that  there  is  an  invisible  Being  watch- 
ing over  it  and  determined  to  preserve  it ; 
one  who  can  turn  it  about  just  as  he  will, 
and  do  what  he  will  with  those  stormy 
winds  and  foaming  billows,  make  those 
waves  roll  as  he  pleases,  or,  if  he  pleases, 
not  roll  at  all — what  should  you  say  then  ? 
"That  vessel  is  safe."  And  what  would 
you  do?  You  would  delight  in  looking  at 
it  amidst  its  perils,  for  you  would  delight 
in  contemplating  the  power  which  is  so 
wonderfully  preserving  it.  So  with  the  be- 
liever. "  He  shall  be  holdcn  up,  for  God 
is  able  to  make  him  stand."  God  is  mag- 
nifying liis  power  through  that  man's 
weakness,  ami  that  man's  dangers  and 
temptations.  To  take  him  at  once  to  heav- 
en and  clothe  him  at  once  with  a  perfectly 
holy  nature,  would  be  nothing  to  keeping 
him  safe  where  he  is,  and  as  he  is,  with 
those  corruptions  within  him  and  those 
temptations  without  him. 

Again  let  me  say,  brethren,  w(>  need 
high  tiioughts  of  Goil  ;   high  lh(jughts  o(  Ins 


j  mercy  to  lead  us  at  first  into  his  ways — oui 
I  sinfulness  makes  that  necessary  ;  and  then 
high  thoughts  of  his  power  to  lead  us  cheer- 
{  fully  on   in  his  ways — our  many  dangers 
I  render  this  needful.     We  may  say  we  have 
I  no  doubt  of  God's  power,  but  how  few  of  us 
I  have  any  lively  conceptions  of  it !    It  is  like 
I  heaven  or  any  thing  else  which  is  high  and 
I  unseen — we  may  believe  in    its  existence, 
i  but  it  is  r,ot  often  present  to  our  minds,  nur 
minds  do  not  realize  or  grasp  it.      And  this 
j  is  I'.^e  reason  we  are  so  often  told  of  God's 
power.     It  is  to  bring  it  before  our  minds, 
to  make   an  impression  on  them  by  it ;   tp 
give  us  such  an  idea  of  it,  as  a  man  has  of 
some  lofty  mountain,  not  when  he  is  ihink- 
I  ing  of  it  out  of  sight  of  it,  but  when  he  sees 
it  lifting  itself  up    before  him  in  the  silent 
sky,  or  he  is  climbing  its  sides.      "  We  are 
kept  by  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation" 
— our  aim  should  be  to  get  a  lively  faith  in 
the  power  that  is  keeping  us  ;  to  look  on 
God  as  bearing  down  all  opposition  in  the 
way  of  our  salvation,  as  having  ready  for 
our  help  tiie  omnipotence  which  brought  the 
universe  into  existence,  and  could  in  a  mo- 
ment put  it  out  of  existence  again. 

III.  We  learn  further  from  the  text,  that 
the  Lord  Jesus  has  high  designs  concerning 
2ts,  which  he  is  able  to  accomplish. 

We  think  chiefly  of  being  kept  in  his 
ways.  We  are  like  travelleis  whose 
thoughts  arc  almost  all  taken  up  with  the 
road  along  which  they  are  journeying.  Bui 
the  Holy  Spirit  is  ever  pointing  us  in  scrip, 
lure  to  the  end  of  our  journey  ;  he  is  con- 
tinually placing  before  us  the  glory  for 
which  we  are  destined.  He  tells  us  here  that 
Christ  is  able  to  lead  us  on,  as  well  as  up- 
hold us ;  and  that  he  has  this  ultimate  de- 
sign in  view  in  upholding  us  and  leading  us 
on — "  to  present  us  faultless  before  tlie  pre- 
sence  of  his  glory  with  exceeding  joy." 

How  much,  brethren,  do  these  few  words 
contain !  Every  one  of  them  seems  to 
speak.  "To  present  us" — to  present  us 
"  faultless" — to  present  us  "  faultless  be- 
fore  the  presence  of  his  glory" — and  to  do 
this  "  with  exceeding  joy." 

"To  present  us."  If  we  are  really  his 
people,  we  have  presented  ourselves  to 
Christ,  yielded  ourselves  to  him.  His  min- 
isters perhaps  will  present  us  to  him  when 
he  comes,  as  the  fruits  of  their  labors.  But 
this  will  not  satisfy  him.  He  so  loves  us, 
that  he  says  he  must  put  more  honor  on  us 
— he  will  j)resent  us  to  liimself.     He  will 


CHRIST  ABLE  TO  KEEP  AND  SAVE. 


251 


let  us  see  that  liis  cliurch  is  not  only  liis 
bride,  but  a  bride  he  has  chosen  and  de- 
lights in  accepting.  Other  brides  are  led 
to  the  bridegroom  by  their  friends ;  he  will 
go  for  his  and  lead  her  himself. 

And  to  present  us  "  faultless."  O  how 
that  word  comforts  the  Chri.><tian's  heart! 
It  is  the  very  word  he  would  have  put  into 
this  text,  had  the  Holy  Spirit  left  a  blank 
and  told  him  to  fill  it  up.  Other  men  would 
have  said  "happy;"  but  he  says,  "No; 
faultless,  holy.  I  shall  be  supremely  happy 
then." 

And  this  idea  in  tliis  connection  is  of  fre- 
quent occurrence  in  scripture,  especially 
in  St.  Paul's  writings.  Th.e  church  is  to 
be  presented  to  Christ,  he  says,  "as  a 
chaste  virgin."  He  will  "  present  it  to 
himself,''  he  says  again,  "  a  glorious  church, 
not  having  spot  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such 
thing."  As  we  have  read  to-day,  we  are 
to  be  '■  blameless"  before  him  at  his  coming. 
And  when  we  are  in  heaven,  we  are  to  be 
there,  St.  John  tells  us,  "  without  fault  be- 
fore the  til  rone." 

But  again — we  are  to  be  presented  "  be- 
fore the  presence  of  his  glory,"  and  to  be 
"  faultless  before  the  presence  of  his  glory." 

We  should  have  thought  it  a  great  thing 
to  have  been  presented  to  Christ  in  the  day 
of  his  humiliation  ;  to  have  sat  by  his  side 
with  John,  or  at  his  feet  with  Mary;  but 
he  says  here,  "  I  will  present  you  to  my- 
.^elf  in  the  day  of  my  glory.  1  will  own 
you  as  mine  in  the  day  of  my  greatness. 
Now,  when  you  come  to  me,  1  am  on  a 
throne  of  grace,  but  I  will  seat  myself  then 
on  a  throne  of  glory.  I  will  put  on  my 
royal  apparel,  and  so  1  will  receive  you. 
To  do  you  honor,  I  will  welcome  you  in 
all  my  splendor." 

And  we  are  to  be  faultless  before  his  glo- 
rious presence.  A  thing  sometimes  ap- 
pears pure  and  white,  but  bring  it  into  the 
daylight  or  put  it  down  on  the  new-fallen 
snow,  it  appears  so  no  longer.  Not  so  here. 
We  slial!  bear  t!ie  daylight;  our  whiteness 
shall  bear  the  snow.  Our  purity  will  be 
such,  that  close  before  the  holy  Saviour,  in 
the  immediate  presence  of  him  who  is  pu- 
rity itself,  we  shall  be  faultless  and  appear 
so.  His  lieavens  are  not  clean  in  hissigiit, 
but  we  shall  l)e  clean  in  his  sight.  His 
perfect  image  will  be  on  us  ;  his  own  pure 
eyes  will  .see  in  us  no  spot  or  stain.  Fault- 
less before  the  throne — think  of  that,  breth- 
ren,  when  sin  is  tormenting   you.     How 


complete  in  (he  end  will  lie  your  deliver- 
ance  from  it !  Every  fragimnt  and  trace 
of  it  will  be  gone. 

And  yet  further — Christ  will  do  this 
"with  exceeding  joy."  "He  will  give  us 
joy,"  you  will  .say,  "  as  he  does  it.  We 
shall  shout  for  joy  as  he  calls  us  to  him- 
self." But  this,  I  conceive,  is  not  the 
apostle's  meaning.  He  is  not  thinking  of 
our  joy,  but  of  Christ's.  Ours  will  be  no- 
tiiing  to  his.  Expanded  as  our  natures  will 
be  and  full  our  hearts,  they  will  still  be 
contracted  natures,  our  hearts  will  still 
Iiold  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  Lord'^. 
They  will  be  as  cisterns  to  the  oci  an.  Full 
and  running  over  they  may  be,  but  that 
wide  ocean  also  is  full  and  running  over, 
and  who  can  measure  its  breadth  or  depth  ? 
St.  Paul  took  delight  in  those  whom  he  had 
brought  to  God.  He  calls  his  Thrssalonian 
converts  "  his  glory  and  joy,  his  crown  of 
rejoicing,"  and  every  faithful  nnnister  of 
the  gospel  shares  his  feelings  ;  but  what 
were  these  Thessalonians  to  Paul  ?  what 
are  any  of  you  to  us?  Not  so  much  as  a 
hair  of  your  head  is  to  Christ.  He  has  an 
interest  in  you,  which  no  other  can  have  ; 
he  loves  you  so  as  none  other  can  love ; 
and  he  will  rejoice  in  your  salvation  as 
none  but  he  can  rejoice.  "  He  shall  see  of 
the  travail  of  his  soul  and  shall  be  satis- 
fied,"  says  the  prophet;  we  shall  under- 
stand his  words  better  one  day  than  we  un- 
derstand them  now,  but  we  shall  never 
know  much  of  their  meaning.  The  satis- 
faction of  an  infinite  mind  ;  the  completion, 
the  perfection  of  his  happiness,  who  is  God 
as  well  as  man — we  shall  never  be  able  to 
fathom  that.  We  can  feel  now  that  it  will 
be  exceeding  joy  ;  we  shall  see  as  we  wit- 
ness it,  that  it  is  exceeding  joy  ;  as  we  grow 
happier  and  happier,  we  shall  compreliend 
more  and  more  of  it,  but  it  will  be  exceed- 
ing joy  still,  a  joy  rising  above  all  our  know- 
ledge and  thoughts. 

Turn  again  to  the  text.  It  suggests  to  us 
one  remark  more. 

IV.  In  keeping  his  people  and  accom- 
plishing his  glorious  designs  concerning 
them,  God  manifcsls  his  wisdom. 

"  To  the  only  wise  God  our  Saviour," 
says  the  apostle,  "  be  glory."  He  passes, 
you  observe,  abruptly  from  our  stability  in 
CJod's  ways  and  our  final  salvation,  to 
God's  wisdom,  letting  us  see  that  he  discov- 
ered wisdom  and  great  wi.sdom  in  God's 
method  of  keeping  and  saving  us.    lie  gives 


252 


CHRIST  ABLE  TO  KEEP  AND  SAVE. 


to  his  wisdom  the  glorv  of  our  salvation. 
He  is  the  only  wise  God  ;  therefore,  he 
seems  to  say,  he  is  able  to  keep  us  from 
fallinji  and  save  us. 

And  observe  I  he  deep  impression  he  has 
on  his  mind  of  the  greatness  of  God's  wis- 
dom. He  does  not  call  him  the  wise,  but 
'•  the  only  wise  God,"  as  'hougii  there  were 
none  wise  hut  he;  as  though  there  were 
such  a  perfection  of  wisdom  in  liim,  that  all 
other  wisdom  is  folly  in  comparison  with  it. 
"  There  is  none  good  but  God,"  said  Christ ; 
the  purest  creature  that  breathes,  is  un- 
clean in  comparison  with  him.  So,  says 
this  apostle,  there  is  none  wise  but  God  ; 
no  creature  can  lay  claim  to  w  isdom  by  his 
side. 

And  it  is  by  taking  notice  of  such  casual 
expressions  as  these,  that  we  often  get  our 
ideas  of  the  divine  character  enlarged,  and 
our  own  hopes  enlarged  with  them.  Some 
of  us  rarely  think  of  God's  wisdom  as  doing 
any  thing  now  to  keep  or  save  us.  It 
planned  the  glorious  scheme  of  our  salva- 
tion, we  think,  and  then  retired,  leaving 
mercy  and  grace  to  execute  it.  Or  if  we 
do  carry  our  thoughts  further  than  God's 
mercy  and  grace,  we  take  in  perhaps  only 
his  faithfulness.  But  all  the  perfections  of 
Jehovah  are  at  work  for  us.  Not  one  of 
them  does  he  suffer  to  be  unemployed. 
When  his  people  are  to  be  saved,  he^  calls 
all  the  energies  of  his  glorious  nature  into 
exercise,  and  keeps  them  in  exercise  till 
their  deliverance  is  accomplished.  He 
saves  them  with  his  whole  heart  and  his 
whole  soul.  Our  hope  therefore  ought  to 
rest  on  all  his  attributes.  It  would  be  a 
stronger  hope  if  it  did  so.  Mercy  must 
ever  be  its  main  stay,  but  here  are  two  sup- 
ports placed  under  it  quite  unconnected 
with  mercy — power  and  wisdom.  And  ob- 
serve how  beautifully  they  are  coupled  to- 
gether. Power  to  keep  us  would  be  no- 
thing without  wisdom  to  direct  it — it  would 
not  know  how  to  help  us  ;  and  wisdom 
would  be  nothing  without  power — it  might 
see  what  was  needed  for  us,  but  there  it 
must  stop,  it  could  not  accomplisli  it.  But 
combine  power  and  wisdom,  infmite  power 
and  wisdom,  and  let  them  be  under  the 
never  failing  impulse  of  infmite  love,  and 
what  will  1)0  tlie  result?  It  will  be  ex- 
actly that  whi^h  this  text  foretells — a  glo- 
rious salvation  for  us  and  exceeding  joy 
for  our  Lord;  a  salvation  for  us,  which 
will  have,  as  it  were,  the  stamp  of  all  God's 


!  perfections  on  it,  reflect  all  his  glory,  and  I 
I  joy  for  our  Lord  to  which  all  those  perfec 
tions  have  contributed,  a  joy  which  is  th« 
workmanship  of  all,  and  in  which  they  wil- 
find  for  themselves  forever  unutterable  de 
light. 

There  are  two  les.sons  which  some  of 
us  may  learn  anew  to-day.  The  first  is  a 
lesson  of  praise. 

Hitherto,  Christian  brethren,  you  have 
been  kept,  some  of  you  wonderfully  kept. 
As  you  look  back  on  the  dangers  through 
which  you  have  been  carried,  you  can 
hardly  believe  it  true  that  you  have  escaped 
them.  You  are  like  men  who  have  passed 
through  fire  and  it  has  not  burnt  them. 
You  have  had  proofs  in  your  own  case  of 
God's  power  to  keep  and  God's  wisdom  in 
keeping.  How  often  have  you  said  with 
David,  "  My  foot  slippeth  ;"  and  yet  a  lit- 
tle after  have  been  forced  to  say,  "  Thv 
mercy,  O  Lord,  held  me  up  !"  And  what 
is  to  be  the  result  of  all  this  ?  Praise  to  the 
God  who  has  kept  you,  and  praise  from  you. 

Think  again  of  some  storm-driven  vessel. 
Is  the  wonderful  preservation  afforded  it,  to 
excite  the  adiniration  of  those  only  who  are 
gazing  on  it  from  the  heights  above  ?  Is 
the  shout  of  gladness  to  come  from  no  lips 
but  theirs,  as  it  clears  rock  after  rock 
against  which  it  had  well  nigh  dashed,  and 
rises  up  from  the  billow  Avhich  staggered 
and  seemed  to  have  buried  it  1  O  no  ! 
There  must  be  thankfulness  within  that 
vessel  itself.  Those  rescued  voyagers 
must  surely  adore  and  praise.  Look  at 
this  apo.stle.  He  gets  a  sight  of  God's 
power  and  wisdom  shining  forth  in  the 
preservation  of  his  church,  and  he  breaks 
forth  in  his  praise  as  though  he  could  not 
be  silent,  as  though  he  longed  for  him  to  be 
everywhere  praised  and  glorified.  "  To 
the  only  wise  God  our  Saviour,"  he  says, 
"  be  glory,  glory  and  majesty,  dominion 
and  power.  It  is  he  who  upholds  us.  I 
see  in  your  safety  and  mine  more  than  his 
power,  I  see  the  glory  of  his  power  ;  I  see 
his  sovereignty  and  I  see  his  magnificence. 
Great  is  the  Lord  and  greatly  to  be  praised. 
O  that  all  his  church  would  adore  and 
praise  him  !  And  wben  siiall  our  praise 
begin  ?  When  these  storms  are  over  and 
our  fleliverance  is  complete  ?  Let  it  rather 
begin  now.  Let  us  praise  him  while  the 
tempest  rages,  praise  him  amid  our  dangers. 
Angels  on  high  are  praising  him  as  they 
see  him  keep  us,  and   we  will  praise   him 


JESUS  SUFFERING  WITHOUT  THE  GATE. 


253 


with  them  while  we  are  kept.  AikI  we 
will  not  stop  tliere — we  will  praise  liim 
when  all  our  clanger  is  past.  To  him  be 
clory,  glory  now  and  glory  for  ever," 
There  is  feeling,  you  observe,  brethren,  in 
this  language  of  the  apostle.  Let  there  be 
feeling,  adoring  and  grateful  feeling,  in 
your  hearts. 

A  lesson  of  trust,  and  confidence  is  anoth- 
er we  arc  to  learn  to-day. 

Is  Clirist  aljle  to  keep  us  and  able  to 
sanctify  us  ?  Is  he  all-wise  to  see  our 
dangers,  and  all-powerful  to  carry  us 
through  them  ?  Then  let  us  quietly  com- 
mit ourselves  to  his  keeping.  You  are 
afraid  of  falling.  I  do  not  say,  cease  to 
fear  it.  Would  that  some  of  you  feared  it 
inore  !  •'  Let  him  that  thinketii  he  standcth, 
take  heed  lest  he  fall."  But  while  you 
fear,  trust.  This  is  the  perfection  of  Chris- 
tian wisdom — to  see,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
greatness  of  our  perils,  and,  on  the  other, 
the  greatness  of  the  help  prepared  for  us  ; 
t(^  be  afraid  to  lake  one  step  in  our  journey 
without  looking  about  us,  and  so  to  lean 
every  step  on  the  arm  which  supports  us, 
as  though  we  felt  sure  it  would   uphold  us. 

And,  brethren,  be  willing  for  God  to  em- 
ploy what  means  he  pleases  for  your  pres- 
ervation. Reniember,  he  is  "the  only  wise 
God,  your  Saviour."  If  your  heart  is  like 
one  heart  I  could  tell  you  of,  you  are  often 
wishing  to  prescribe  to  God.  You  want  to 
bo  kept  in  this  manner  and  that,  and  to  be 
led  on  to  heaven  in  this  way  and  the  other  ; 
Init  this  will  not  do.  We  must  cease  from 
this.  You  and  I  must  leave  all  to  God. 
It  is  not  likely  that  he  in  his  great  wisdom, 
and  we  in  our  great  folly,  will  always 
judge  alike.  He  will  often  hold  us  up  by 
means  which  will  seem  to  us  as  though 
they  must  cast  us  down.  He  will  perfect 
his  work  concerning  us,  but  it  will  be  in  a 
way  we  shall  seldom  understand.  "  Trust 
in  the  Lord  with  all  thine  heart,"  this  scrip- 
ture says,  "  and  lean  not  unto  thine  own 
understanding.  In  all  thy  ways  acknowl- 
edge him,  and  ho  shall  direct  thy  paths." 

And  let  not  the  careless  part  of  us  think 
they  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  text. 
Brethren,  if  it  requires  the  power  of  God 
and  the  wisdom  of  God  to  "  uphold  the  feet 
of  his  saints,"  to  keep  the  holiest  man  liv- 
ing from  falling,  what  is  your  condition,  you 
who  never  seek  fljr  any  wisdom  or  power 
greater  than  your  own  to  keep  you  ?  Oiie 
thing  is  clear — it  is  a  condition  very  unlike 


tiiat  of  God's  saints.  Indeed  it  is.  You 
want  no  one  to  hold  you  up,  fur  vou  are 
not  trying  to  stand.  You  have  never  enter 
ed  God's  ways,  but  are  walking  on  still  in 
your  own.  And  where  will  your  own 
ways  lead  you  ?  Where  have  they  led 
you?  To  happiness?  No.  Toholine.ss? 
Shall  you  stand  faultless  before  Christ, 
when  you  see  him  on  his  throne  ?  Alas  ! 
there  will  be  the  guilt  often  thousand  times 
ten  thousand  sins  on  your  heads,  and  in 
your  hearts  corruptions  that  will  rage  there 
forever.  "Turn  ye,"  says  this  text  to 
you,  "  turn  ye  from  your  evil  ways.  Re- 
pent and  tyrn  yourselves  from  all  your 
transgressions ;  .so  iniquity  shall  not  be 
your  ruin." 


SERMON  LIII. 

THE  NINETEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

JESUS  SUFFERING  WITHOUT  THE  GATE. 

Hebrews  xui.  11,  12,  13. — "  T/ir.  bodies  of  those 
beasts  whose  blood  is  brought  into  the  sanctuary 
by  the  high  priest  for  sin,  are  burned  without 
the  camp.  Wherefore  Jesus  also,  that  he  might 
sanctify  the  people  with  his  own  blood,  suffered 
without  the  gate.  Let  us  go  forth  therefore 
unto  him  without  the  camp,  bearing  his  re- 
proach.'" 

An  intelligent  Jew  in  St.  Paul's  days  would 
readily  understand  this  language.  It  would 
carry  his  thoughts  back  to  the  camp  of  his 
fathers  in  the  wilderness,  and  its  meaning 
would  become  immediately  obvious  ana 
clear.  We  too  have  only  to  place  the  same 
.scene  before  us,  and  we  shall  understand  it. 

I.  It  speaks  of  a  custom  that  prevailed 
among  the  Israelites  in  the  ivildcrness ; 
"  The  bodies  of  those  beasts  whose  blood 
is  brought  into  the  sanctuary  by  the  high 
priest  for  sin,  arc  burned  without  the  camp." 

The  apostle  writes  as  though  the  camp 
and  this  custom  still  existed.  The  camp 
however  was  gone,  but  the  custom  remain- 
ed with  this  ditlerence  only,  that  the  tem- 
ple was  now  substituted  for  the  tabernacle 
and  the  city  for  the  camp.  It  was  a  cus 
tom  of  divine  appointment.  The  Lord,  in 
framing  a  law  fin*  the  .Tews,  regarded  the 
whole  nation  as  sinners.  Besides  therefore, 
the  otrerings  to  be  made  by  individuals  for 


254 


JESUS  SUFFERING  WITHOUT  THE  GATE. 


thfir  own  sins,  various  sacrifices  were  or- 
dained for  the  sins  of  the  nation,  and  ainong 
tliese,  one  of  unusual  solemnity.  It  was  to 
be  offered  once  in  every  year,  and  on  a 
certain  day  of  the  year,  called  from  this 
circumstance  the  da)^  of  atonement.  There 
were  two  peculiarities  connected  with  it. 
On  ordinary  occasions,  the  blood  of  the 
animals  slain  was  either  thrown  on  the 
altar  or  poured  out  by  the  side  of  it ;  but  on 
this  occasion  it  was  to  be  taken  by  the  high 
priest  into  the  holy  of  holies,  and  sprinkled 
there  on  the  mercy-seat.  At  other  times 
too,  the  victims  offered  were  cither  burnt 
on  the  altar  or  left  to  be  eaten  by  the  at- 
tendant priests  and  those  who  brought  them  ; 
on  this  solemn  day,  they  were  to  be  carried 
outside  the  camp  and  there  burnt. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  both  these  peculiari- 
ties nnist  have  been  to  a  Jew  of  a  reflecting 
mind  highly  significant  and  impressive. 
Did  lie  behold  the  high  priest  taking  up  the 
blood  of  the  victims,  and  going  alone  with 
it  into  the  innermost  sanctuary,  the  imme- 
diate presence  of  Jehovah  in  his  tabernacle  ? 
"  We  have  to  seek  to-day,"  he  would  say, 
"a  nation's  pardon,  the  pardon  of  all  the 
sins  of  all  the  people  ;  we  must  seek  it 
therefore  \yith  the  greatest  possible  solem- 
nity and  with  unusual  earnestness,  not  at  a 
distance  from  our  offended  God  in  these 
outer  courts  of  his  house,  but,  through  our 
appointed  intercessor,  at  his  feet ;  present- 
ing before  his  very  face  the  blood  we  have 
shed  at  his  command  as  an  expiation  for  our 
sins,  and  pleading  there  for  mercy  and  for- 
giveness." And  did  he  then  turn  round 
and  sre  the  animals  themselves  carried 
away  from  the  tabernacle  to  be  cast  out 
and  burnt?  "  Even  so,"  he  would  say 
again,  "  do  all  we  deserve  to  be  cast  out, 
to  be  driven  away  in  our  wickedness  as  ac- 
cursed things  and  utterly  consumed."  He 
would  see  in  the  slain  goat  and  the  slain 
bullock  going  forth  to  the  flames,  what  a 
hateful  thing  sin  is  to  God,  even  when  he 
parrlons  it ;  and  that  he  will  not  pardon  it, 
without  giving  us  at  the  same  time  some 
plain  indication  of  his  holy  disjileasure 
against  it. 

But  why  does  the  apostle  refer  to  this 
custom  ?     It  is  that  he  may  throw  light  on 

II.  An  event  which  look  place  at  Jerusa- 
lem, closely  resembling  it  ;  "  Wherefore  Je- 
sus also,  that  he  might  sanctify  the  people 
with  his  own  blood,  suffered  without  the 
gate." 


We  may  notice  here  three  points  of  re- 
semblance between  our  Lord  and  the  ani- 
mals burnt  on  the  day  of  atonement. 

1 .  They  did  not  die  a  natural  death ; 
their  blood  was  shed  before  they  were  car- 
ried forth.  _  And  our  Lord  also  "  suffered  ;" 
his  precious  blood  too  was  poured  forth. 

2.  And  he  suffered-  in  the  same  jjlace  in 
lohich  these  animals  were  destroyed.  They 
were  slain  indeed  in  the  camp,  but  they 
were  burned  outside  of  it.  So  our  Lord 
"  suffered  without  the  gate."  "They  led 
him  out  to  crucify  him,"  we  are  told,  out 
of  their  city,  to  the  very  spot  probably 
where  after  the  people  were  settled  in  Jeru- 
salem, the  bodies  of  those  beasts  which  had 
so  long  prefigured  him,  were  consumed. 

3.  And  he  suffered  too  for  the  same  end. 
The  blood  of  these  animals  was  shed,  that 
it  might  be  taken  "  into  the  sanctuary  by 
the  high  priest  for  sin,"  as  a  propitiation 
for  sin  ;  their  bodies  were  burned  as  a  tes- 
timony of  the  divine  itidignation  against 
sin.  When  these  two  ceremonies  had  been 
gone  through,  God  is  said  to  have  been 
reconciled  to  his  people,  the  whole  camp 
was  considered  as  purged  from  its  trans- 
gressions. And  wliat  was  the  end  for 
which  our  Lord  sufliered  ?  It  was  that  his 
people,  his  spiritual  Israel,  might  have  sin 
removed  from  them  ;  "  Jesus  also,  that  he 
might  sanctify  the  people  with  Jiis  own 
blood,  suffered  without  the  gate." 

The  word  "  sanctify"  must  not  be  taken 
here  in  its  ordinary  sense,  as  signifying  to 
make  spiritually  holy.  The  people  of 
Christ  are  indeed  made  spiritually  holy  by 
him,  and  it  was  one  end  of  his  suffering  to 
make  them  so,  but  it  was  not  the  inniicdi- 
ate  end,  nor  that  which  is  now  in  the  apos- 
tle's mind.  He  means  liere  by  the  word, 
to  consecrate  or  set  apart  for  God,  to  ap- 
propriate or  devote  to  God,  to  make  his. 
So  we  are  said  to  sanctify  the  sabl)ath  unto 
him,  and  so  our  Lord  is  said  to  have  sanc- 
tified himself,  when  he  said,  "  Lo,  I  come 
to  do  thy  will,  O  God  ;"  when  he  gave 
himself  up  to  do  and  suffer  his  will  on  the 
earth  and  become  our  Saviour. 

Now  we,  bret4iren,  like  these  Israelites, 
were  a  guilty  people,  and,  as  such,  in  the 
sense  of  this  text,  an  unsancti/ied  people. 
We  were  not  the  Lord's  ;  we  were  cut  off 
from  him,  lost  to  him,  with  the  curse  of  his 
broken  law  upon  us  and  everlasting  ban- 
ishment from  his  presence  before  us — a 
rnisej^able  condition  for  creatures  to  be  in, 


JESUS  SUFFERING  WITHOUT  THE  GATE. 


255 


whose  only  real  happiness  lies  in  his  favor 
and  presence.  The  Lord  .lesus  beheld  us 
in  ihis  condition.  He  conies  forth  and  says, 
"  This  shall  not  last.  My  love  and  pity 
cannot  suffer  it  to  last.  See  you  those  vic- 
tims bleedin<j  there  for  that  guilty  camp  ? 
I  mvsoif  will  become  a  bleedinfj  victim.  I 
will  take  all  the  sins  of  all  my  guilty  peo- 
ple on  myself.  In  my  own  body  I  will 
bear  them,  and  with  my  own  blood  I  will 
expiate  them."  He  shed  his  blood,  shed  it 
openly  amid  disgrace  and  shame  at  the 
city's  gate  ;  and  then  he  took  it  up  himself 
into  his  Father's  presence,  went  with  it  into 
the  holiest  of  all  holy  places,  the  heavenly 
sanctuary,  and  there  he  presents  it  and 
pleads  it  before  his  Father  for  his  people's 
pardon.  And  pardoned  they  are.  The 
Father  accepts  the  offering  he  has  made 
for  them.  No  sooner  do  they  really  trust 
in  it  for  remission,  than  their  guilt  is  can- 
celled, the  curse  falls  off  them,  the  sentence 
gone  forth  against  them  is  reversed  ;  no 
longer  far  off  from  God,  they  are  again 
brought  nigh  to  him  ;  restored  to  his  favor  ; 
loved  and  delighted  in  as  his  own  ;  taken 
possession  of  and  dwelt  in,  renewed,  puri- 
fied, and  adorned,  by  his  Spirit ;  set  apart 
for  his  glory  and  service  ;  and  destined  to 
share  forever  his  unbounded  happiness. 
They  are  now  a  sanctified  people,  sancti- 
fied unto  God,  a  people  made  his  own,  a 
peculiar  people  unto  him,  a  holy  nation  ; 
and  this  because  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  he 
might  thus  sanctify  them,  suffered  without 
the  gate.  This  w^as  the  end  of  his  sufler- 
ing,  the  object  it  was  intended  to  accom- 
plish by  his  Father  who  sent  him,  and  the 
great  object  he  him.self  kept  ever  in  view 
while  enduring  his  sufferings.  How  strange, 
brethren,  that  we  sinners  should  ever  lose 
sight  of  this !  that  we  should  ever  think  of 
his  sufferings  witliout  thinking  of  this  ! 
And  what  can  tliey  know  of  Christianity — 
I  will  not  say  of  its  glory,  but  of  its  nature 
an<l  ])urpose — who  profess  to  believe  in  a 
dying  Saviour,  and  yet  never  see  in  him  a 
propitiation  for  their  sins,  never  regard  him 
as  the  ^n-cat  Reconciler,  the  restorer  of 
peace,  communion,  and  friendship,  between 
them  and  their  God  ? 

Anotiier  part  of  the  te.xt  now  claims  our 
attention.     It  contains 

III.  An  exhorlalion  grounded  on  the  event 
the  apostle  mentions  ;  "  Jesus,  that  he  might 
sanctify  the  people  with  his  own  blood, 
suffered  without  the  jjatc.     Let  us  so  forth 


therefore  unto  liim  without  the  camp,  bear- 
ing his  reproach."' 

We  must  again  imagine  ourselves  in  the 
desert.  Around  us  are  spread  the  tents 
of  Israel.  The  men  dwelling  in  them  are 
all  worshipping  the  Lonl  in  one  way — as 
tlieir  fathers  worshipped  him,  looking  for 
his  mercy  through  rites  and  ceremonies 
and  bleeding  victims.  The  Lord  Jesus 
appears  amongst  them  ;  tells  them  he  is 
sent  of  God  to  abolish  these  rites  and  ceremo- 
nies, to  become  himself  once  for  all  a  victim 
for  them,  and  calls  upon  them  incon.sequence 
to  turn  from  their  shadowy  rites  and  long 
accustomed  sacrifices  to  him.  Instead  of 
this,  they  cast  him  forth  out  of  their  camp 
and  crucify  him.  We  are  to  conceive  of 
him  therefore  as  even  now  hanging  in 
shame  and  suffering  on  a  cross  beyond  the 
gate,  and  then  comes  this  apostle  saying  to 
us  among  our  tents,  "  Let  us  not  linger 
here.  Let  us  go  forth  unto  him  without 
the  camp,  bearing  his  reproach." 

It  is  clear  then  that  he  calls  on  us,  first, 
to  forsake  the  reJighn  of  our  fellow-vien,  a 
religion,  it  may  be,  that  either  is  or  once 
was  our  own. 

The  Jew  in  the  desert  could  not  go  forth 
to  a  bleeding  Jesus  without  turning  his  back 
on  the  Jewish  worship,  and  giving  up  all 
his  long  cherished  Jewish  hopes.  He  must 
abandon  the  sanctuary  and  ordinances  with 
which  all  his  religious  feelings  have  been 
long  associated,  and  around  which  he  be- 
holds his  countrymen  still  gathering.  A 
painful  sacrifice.  The  Jews  to  whom  this 
epistle  was  addressed,  .scarcely  knew  how 
to  make  it.  Even  those  who  really  embra- 
ced the  gospel,  looked  back  and  lingered 
as  they  made  it.  They  wanted,  if  possi- 
ble, to  be  in  their  beloved  temple  and  at  the 
cross  at  the  same  time. 

And  it  is  the  same  now,  brethren.  Many 
of  us  have  a  religion  that  the  gospel  calls 
on  us  to  renounce.  It  is  made  up  of  opin- 
ions, and  feelings,  and  hopes,  which  are  as 
much  opposed  to  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ, 
as  the  religion  of  any  Jew  ever  was.  We 
may  have  cherished  it  long,  even  from  our 
childhood.  The  world  around  us  may 
respect  and  commend  it  ;  it  is  natural  i- 
should  do  so — it  is  the  world's  own  reli- 
gion ;  the  world  taught  it  us.  But  no  mat- 
ter who  commends  it  or  how  highly  we 
may  have  valued  it,  we  must  let  it  go ;  or 
rather  we  must  turn  our  backs  on  it,  we 
must  cast  it  away,  before  we  and  the  -jross 


25G 


JESUS  SUFFERING  WITHOUT  THE  GATE. 


of  ClTi-ist  can  ever  meet.  Tlie  relifjioti  1 1 
am  speaking  of,  is  one  that  makes  mucli  of 
oui'selve,  and  very  little  of  the  Lord  our 
Saviour  ;  tiiat  puts  our  merit  and  righte- 
ousness where  he  tells  us  to  put  his.  Like 
the  religion  of  most  of  the  Jews,  it  deems 
shadows  substance  and  leans  upon  them  as 
though  they  were  substance,  making  forms 
and  ceremonies,  sacraments  and  ordinan- 
ces, the  ground  we  buiitl  our  hopes  on, 
rather  than  that  glorious  foundation  God 
himself  has  given  us  to  build  our  hopes  on, 
even  Jesus  Christ.  It  matters  not  what 
name  this  religion  bears,  it  is  under  every 
name  and  in  every  age  and  place  essen- 
tially the  same.  Whether  in  a  Pagan, 
Jewish,  or  Christian  dress,  the  world's  reli- 
gion is  ever  the  same  thing,  a  substituting 
of  man  for  God,  of  pretence  for  reality,  of 
form  for  substance,  of  bodily  observance 
for  spiritual  obedience,  for  the  subjugation 
of  the  soul  to  the  law  and  w^ill  of  God. 
Such  a  religion  must  go  and  go  entirely, 
if  we  would  become  the  real  disciples  of 
Jesus  Christ.  It  will  not  blend  with  the 
gospel,  and  we  must  not  attempt  to  make  it 
blend  with  it.  "  We  have  an  altar,"  says 
the  apostle  in  the  preceding  verse,  "  whereof 
they  have  no  right  to  eat,  which  serve  the 
tabernacle  ;"  they  will  not  eat  of  it,  and  if 
they  w^ould,  they  are  prohibited  ;  they  can- 
not. 

And  with  the  religion  of  the  world,  we 
must  forsake  also  to  a  considerable  extent  the 
men  of  the  world. 

It  was  not  the  tabernacle  only  and  its 
services,  which  the  Jew  had  to  leave. 
With  Christ  at  the  gate,  he  could  not  go 
forth  to  him  from  the  camp  without  leav- 
ing his  countrymen  also.  His  friends  and 
companions,  his  brethren,  all  must  be 
abandoned.  He  must  move  along  a  soli- 
tary being  or  nearly  so,  to  the  camp  gate, 
and  there,  it  may  be,  a  solitary  being  or 
nearly  so,  must  he  remain.  And  come 
out  from  the  world,  dear  brethren,  must 
we,  if  we  would  really  be  found  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus  Christ.  He  is  still  without 
the  gate,  beyond  the  boundary  of  the 
world's  tents,  and  we  must  be  content  to 
leave  the  world  behind  us,  or  never  go  to 
him.  His  own  language  on  this  point  is 
some  of  the  plainest  and  strongest  that 
ever  fell  from  his  lips.  He  calls  upon  us 
to  forsake  all  we  have  for  him,  and  tells 
us  that  if  we  do  not  forsake  it,  we  cannot 
be  his  disciples.     Father  and  mother,  and 


wile  and  children,  and  brethren  and  sisters, 
all,  he  says,  if  they  interfere  with  our  ad- 
herence to  him,  are  to  be — what  ?  left  ? 
No,  "hated;"  left  as  we  would  leave  a 
thing  which  is  become  distasteful  to  us  ; 
left  willingly,  cheerfully,  so  that  we  shall 
seem  to  hate  them  as  we  leave  them  ;  and 
again  he  tells  us  that  unless  we  do  this  or 
are  ready  to  do  it,  we  are  not  and  cannot 
be  his  disciples.  Such  language  often  star- 
tles the  young  Christian.  The  reason  is, 
he  does  not  half  know  as  yet  what  the  world 
is,  nor  what  his  holy  Saviour  is.  He  sees 
little  as  yet  of  the  contrariety  and  opposi 
tion  between  the  two.  But  the  experienced 
Christian  is  not  startled.*  He  has  seen  and 
felt  this  contrariety  ;  he  has  had  evidences 
enough  of  this  opposition  ;  his  own  experi. 
ence  has  lodged  deeply  in  his  mind  a  con- 
viction of  the  world's  inveterate,  though 
perhaps  denied  and  cloaked  hostility  to  his 
blessed  Lord  ;  and  while  he  still  pities  and, 
in  one  sense,  still  loves  the  world,  will  de- 
ny himself,  spend  and  be  spent,  labor  to 
the  very  utmost,  for  the  world's  good,  he 
wonders  not  when  he  hears  his  Master 
command  him  to  give  it  up,  and  to  give  it 
up  as  one  who  hates  it ;  he  wonders  not 
when  an  inspired  apostle  tells  him,  "  Who- 
soever will  be  a  friend  of  the  world,  is  the 
enemy  of  God."  It  is  his  heart's  desire 
and  prayer  to  detach  himself  from  it. 
"  Lord,"  he  says,  "  draw  me  out  of  it ;  let 
me  have  less  and  less  to  do  with  it.  Let 
me  get  further  from  the  world,  that  I  may 
be  nearer  thee  ;  let  me  live  higher  above 
it,  that  I  may  live  closer  to  thee." 

But  again — connected  with  this  forsak- 
ing of  the  world,  there  must  be  an  acluat 
cnjiihig,  the  apostle  says,  to  Christ  our  Lord. 
Observe,  he  docs  not  simply  bid  the  Israel- 
ites leave  their  camp,  as  though  his  only 
object  was  to  get  them  away  from  their  old 
religion  and  companions,  he  directs  them 
all  to  one  spot ;  he  bids  them  leave  the 
camp  for  one  purpose,  that  they  may  go  to 
him  who  is  suffering  for  them  without  the 
gate.  So  we  are  not  to  go  forth  only,  we 
are  to  go  forth  unto  Christ.  It  will  profit 
us  notliing  to  give  up  the  em])ty  religion 
of  the  world,  if  when  we  let  that  go, 
we  get  no  other.  Superstition  for  skepti- 
cism  is  a  poor  exchange.  And  it  will  pro- 
fit us  as  little  to  forsake  the  world,  if  we 
stand  still  when  we  have  forsaken  it.  The 
going  forth  the  apostle  (Mijoins.  is  not  gninir 
into  cells  and  hermitages,  it  is  not  simlting 


THE  CHURCH  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 


257 


ourselves  up  in  silent  cloisters,  nor  is  it 
roainin^.^  this  desert  world  in  a  proud,  dreary 
solitariness.  It  is  a  goin;r  fortli  unto  Josus. 
It  is  exchanging  the  religion  of  the  world 
f^ir  the  religion  of  his  cross;  it  is  giving 
up  that  which  cannot  elevate,  comfort,  or 
save  us,  for  that  which  can.  And  tlien  it 
is  leaving  the  world  for  the  world's  Mas- 
ter ;  it  is  sufF'ring  the  loss  of  all  things 
that  we  may  win  Ciirist ;  it  is  the  forsak- 
ing of  a  world  which  is  not  worthy  even 
of  us,  that  we  may  be — what  ?  outcasts  ? 
No  ;  but  '•  fellow-citizens  with  the  saints 
and  of  the  household  of  God  ;"  sharers 
now  of  higher  riches  and  pleasures  than 
the  eartli  can  give,  and  heirs  of  a  world 
that  is  worthy,  if  any  world  can  l)e,  of  the 
God  who  made  it.  The  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ  is  not  a  religion  of  renunciation  only, 
it  is' a  religion  of  acquirement  and  posses- 
sion. It  throws  away  that  which  is  evil 
and  worthless,  that  it  may  lay  iiold  of  that 
which  is  excellent  and  precious.  Never 
regard  it,  brethren,  as  intended  to  rob  you, 
it  is  intended  to  enrich  you.  It  calls  you 
oir  frotn  shadows,  that  you  may  "  inherit 
substance."  It  says,  "  Give  up  illusions, 
that  you  may  grasp  realities." 

And  one  thing  more — toe  are  to  hear  the 
reproach  of  Christ  as  we  go  forth  to  him. 
The  apostle  liovvever  does  not  exactly  call 
upon  us  to  do  this  ;  he  intimates  rather 
that  we  cannot  go  forth  to  him  without 
doing  it,  that  there  is  no  leaving  the  camp 
and  joining  him,  without  taking  his  re- 
proach on  us.  Nor  is  there,  'j'hink  yet 
once  again  of  an  Israelite  coming  out  of 
his  tent  to  go  to  him.  He  is  leaving  his 
countrymen  for  one  whom  they  have  thrust 
out  and  slain.  He  is  giving  up  the  society, 
comforts,  and  religion,  of  their  camp,  for  a 
malefactor  and  his  cross  in  the  wilderness. 
And  will  they  let  him  alone  as  they  see  him 
doing  this  ?  No.  Pity  for  him,  they  say, 
will  not  allow  them  to  do  so  ;  and  if  pity 
would,  pride  will  not.  Every  step  the 
man  takes  is  a  censure  on  them,  their  re- 
ligion and  ways.  Such  a  man  indeed  will 
never  dream  of  being  let  alone.  "  No," 
he  will  say,  "  I  must  make  my  way  to 
him  I  am  going  to,  through  scorn,  reproach, 
and,  it  may  be,  suffering.  I  will  endeavor 
to  provoke  no  one  as  I  go  along,  but  I 
know  well  enough  that  there  will  be  many 
ready  to  provoke  me.  Were  1  meek  and 
lowly  as  my  suffering  Lord  himself,  I 
could  not  move  through  such  *a  camp  as 
33 


this  without  ill   usage.     The  reproach  of 
them  thai  have  reproached   him,  will   fall 
on  me.      But  what  of  this  ?     I  have  count- 
ed  the  cost  and  I  will  go  on.      1  will  go  a 
despised    sinner    to    a    despised     Saviour. 
Like  that  Saviour  himself,   I  will  endure 
the  cross  and  despise  the  shame.      I   feel 
that  in  his  strength   I  can  do  this ;  nay,  I 
feel  that  I  can  do  more  than  this.      Pain- 
ful   as   is    at    times    the  reproach    that    is 
ca.st  on  me,  I  would  not  part  with  it.     It 
is  the  reproach  of  Christ,  and   because  it 
is  his,  it  is  dear  and  precious  to  me.     It  is 
my  secret  joy  and  glory.      With  his  servant 
of  old,  I  can  esteem  it  riches,  and  greater 
riches  than  all  the  treasures  of  the  world." 
Shall  I  say  to  you,   brethren,  learn  this 
lesson  ?     It  is  not  so  difficult  a  lesson  as  it 
j  at  first  appears.      Were  there  nothing  more 
Idiiricult  between  us  and   heaven,   I  could 
I  almost  say,  how  easy  would  our  path  to 
I  heaven  be  !     But  are  we  in  the  path  there  ? 
j  That  is  the  great  question.     Are  we  real- 
I  ly  going  forth  to  him  who  suffered  ibr  us? 
Is  he  in  our  eye  and  in  our  heart  ?     Are 
we  going  on   prepared    to  give   up  every 
thing  that  we  may  find  him  and  be  with 
!  him  ?     This  point  once  settled,  we  may  be 
j  well  content  to  let  the  world  treat  us  as  it 
I  will.     A  man  flying  from  everlasting  de- 
j  struction  will  not  much  heed  what  is  thought 
I  of  him,  or  said  of  him,  as  he  moves  along. 
I  A  man  beloved  of  God,  will  not  miss  much 
the  favor  and  love  of  his  fellow-men.     A 
man  with  his  heart  with  Christ  in  heaven, 
will  soon  learn  to  make  light  of  all  earth- 
ly  ills. 


SERMON  LIV. 


THE  TWENTIETH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

THl']  CHURCH  TIIK  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 

1   Timothy  mi.   1.5. — "  The  house  of  God,  which 
is  the  church  of  the  living.  God." 

We  all  know  that  affection,  when  it  is 

strong,  leads  us  to  apply  names  to  those 

we   love  expressive  of  our  attachment  to 

them  ;  and  if  our  affection  for  them  is  very 

strong,   we  apply  to  them  many  of  these 

names.      And  thus  our  own  gracious  God 

jdi.scovers  to  us  his    love  for    liis   church. 

I  He  gives  it  in  his  holy  word  a  great  va- 

1  riet  V  of  names.     Except  the    Lord  Jesus 


258 


THE  CHURCH  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 


Christ,  no  one  person  or  thing  is  called 
there  by  so  many  .  He  seems  to  have  feel- 
ings towards  it,  which  impel  him  to  add 
title  to  title  in  order  to  give  utterance  to 
them.  It  is  his  vineyard,  his  garden,  his 
flock,  his  portion,  his  inheritance,  his  fami- 
ly.     Here  in  the  text  it  is  his  house. 

The  apostle's  words  present  to  us  three 
ideas — the  church  of  God,  that  church  a 
house,  and  that  house  the  house  of  God. 

I.   Here  is  ihe  church  of  God. 

You  will  perceive  at  once  why  I  begin 
with  this.  All  you  are  about  to  hear,  is 
concerning  the  church.  It  is  necessary, 
therefore,  that  we  should  distinctly  under- 
stand at  the  outset  what  the  church  is. 

In  common  discourse,  we  generally  mean 
by  this  word  a  building  set  apart  by  Chris- 
tian people  for  public  worship;  Ijut  it  is 
doubtful  whether  the  Greek  term  which  we 
translate  "  church,"  is  ever  used  in  scrip- 
ture in  this  sense.  Nor  is  tliis  strange. 
The  early  Christians  had  no  such  buildings 
or  very  few  of  them.  They  met  to  worship 
their  divine  Master  in  their  own  houses,  in 
dens  and  caves  of  the  earth,  or  wherever 
violence  and  persecution  would  allow  them. 

The  original  word  signifies  an  assembly, 
tin  assembly  of  any  kind  ;  and  it  is  fre- 
■quently  so  translated  in  our  English  Testa- 
ment. Now  the  apostles  did  not  aim  at 
•novelty.  They  had  indeed  new  truths  to 
declare,  but  they  did  not  create  new  words 
■in  order  to  declare  them.  They  took  those 
which  they  found  in  common  use  among 
the  people,  and  applied  them  to  sacred  pur- 
poses. Accordingly  when  any  number  of 
Christians  met  together  and  formed  a  con- 
gregation, they  called  it  an  assembly  or 
church.  And  with  this  application  of  the 
word,  they  appear  to  have  set  out.  They 
meant  nothing  more  by  it  at  first  than  a 
particular  or  single  congregation.  Thus 
we  read  of  tlie  church  in  this  place  and 
that  place,  and  several  times  over  of  a 
■church  in  a  house.  After  a  little,  however, 
the  word  began  to  be  applied  to  a  number 
of  congregations  united  together,  as  the 
church  of  Jerusalem  and  the  church  of 
•Corinth,  each  of  which,  from  the  multitude 
of  converts  in  them,  must  necessarily  have 
contained  several  congregations.  Thus  also 
we  often  say  the  church  of  England. 

But  we  must  follow  the  word  yet  further. 
It  is  often  used  to  signify  all  the  churches 
■that  are  in  existence  at  the  same  time  on 
the  earth;  all  baptized  persons  ;  the  whole 


I  body  of  professing  Christians  wherever  dis. 
i  persed  or  however  distinguished  ;  what  our 
creed  means  by  the  catholic  or  universal 
church,  and  what  we  generally  mean  when 
we  say  the  visible  church  of  Christ. 

And  even  yet  we  have  not  done.  There 
is  one  meaning  more  which  the  expression 
bears,  and  the  highest  of  all.  It  has  noth- 
ing to  do  now,  however,  with  the  merely 
nominal  Christian  ;  it  takes  now  a  purely 
spiritual  though  a  wide  sense.  It  includes 
all  the  people  of  God,  not  of  all  nations 
only,  but  of  all  ages  ;  all  real  believers  in 
the  Lord  Jesus  that  have  been,  or  are,  or 
shall  hereafter  be;  the  whole  number  of 
the  redeemed  from  among  men  whether  on 
earth  or  in  heaven.  It  comprehends  our 
pious  fathers,  and  it  takes  in  us  if  we  are 
like  them  :  God  grant  that  it  may  take  in 
our  children  also!  It  goes  back  to  the 
patriarchs,  prophets,  and  apostles ;  and  it 
goes  forward  to  the  very  last  of  the  son-si 
of  men,  who  shall  fly  to  the  great  Saviour 
and  find  mercy.  This  indeed  is  eminent- 
ly "the  church  of  the  li\ing  God."  Thi.s 
is  what  (lod  generally  means  when  he 
speaks  m  the  scripture  of  his  church.  It 
is  this,  which  he  is  said  to  have  loved,  and 
to  have  given  himself  for.  It  is  this,  that 
he  styles  his  "glorious  church  ;"  that  he 
calls  by  so  many  names  and  loves  to  view 
in  so  many  characters  ;  that  he  speaks  of 
as  his  bride,  his  body,  his  fulness,  in  fact, 
under  almost  every  figure  which  can  ex- 
press connection  and  delight.  To  say  that 
the  apostle  calls  this  only  "the  house  of 
God,"  would  be  perhaps  going  too  far,  but 
he  certainly  has  this  chiefly  in  his  mind  in 
this  passage.  Every  church,  yea,  every 
single  believer,  is  in  an  inferior  sense  a 
house  of  God,  but  would  we  look  at  his 
one  great,  his  highest,  noblest  house,  we 
must  carry  our  minds  forward  to  "  the  gen- 
eral assembly  and  church  of  his  first-born ;" 
to  that  final  meeting  together  of  his  saints, 
which  makes  the  heart  burn  as  it  thinks  of 
it  ;  to  that  bringing  together  in  heaven  of 
all  that  he  has  ever  snatched  from  the 
pollution  of  earth,  and  the  forming  of  all 
into  one  glorious  body  under  one  glorious 
Head,  "the  Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  souls." 

]}y  the  churcii  then,  as  we  are  using  the 
word  to-day,  we  mean  all  the  people  of  God 
of  every  age  and  nation  viewed  as  one 
assembly.  This  we  are  now  to  look  on  in 
a  particular  light. 

II.  It  is  a  house. 


THE  CHURCH  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 


259 


Three  thintjs  are  required  to  constitute 
a  house — a  foundation,  materials  for  the 
superstructure,  and  a  putting  of  these  ma- 
terials together  into  order  and  form.  All 
these  we  shall  find  in  the  church. 

1.  h  has  a  foundation.  The  Lord  him- 
self points  it  out  to  us;  "  Behold,  I  lay  in 
Zion  for  a  foundation  a  stone,  a  tried  stone, 
a  precious  corner-stone,  a  sure  foundation." 
And  St.  Peter,  in  quoting  these  words,  ex- 
plains them.  He  says  that  God  refers  in 
them  to  his  spiritual  house,  his  church,  and 
that  he  means  by  this  stone  and  this  founda- 
tion his  incarnate  Son.  St.  Paul  too  speaks 
to  the  same  etfeet.  "Ye  are  God's  build- 
ing." he  tells  his  Corinthian  converts,  and 
then  he  immediately  alludes  to  Christ  as  the 
foundation  of  this  building,  and  the  only 
one.  "Other  foundation,"  he  says,  "can 
no  man  lay  than  that  is  laid,  which  is  Jesus 
Christ."  Now  if  we  divest  this  language 
of  metaphor,  its  meaning  is,  that  the  Lord 
Jesus  stands  in  a  relation  to  his  church 
similar  to  that  which  a  foundation  bears  to 
a  building.  His  church  rests  on  him.  He 
bears  it  up.  Its  pardon,  its  holiness,  its 
hope,  its  blessedness,  its  safety,  its  very  ex- 
istence, all  depend  on  him.  Without  Christ 
there  could  have  been  no  church  at  first; 
take  him  away,  there  would  be  none  now  ; 
there  would  not  be  a  pardoned  sinner  on 
the  earth,  nor  a  redeemed  sinner  in  heaven. 
All  that  infinite  mercy  has  done,  would  be 
undone.  The  foundation  would  be  gone  ; 
not  only,  therefore,  must  the  rising  build- 
ing be  stopped,  that  part  of  it  which  has 
been  already  raised,  must  fall.  Hence  it 
is  said  that  by  him  "  all  things"  hang  to- 
gethor  or  "consist." 

And  it  is  one  part  of  vital  godliness  and 
the  main  part,  to  understand  this.  It  is  not 
self-evident.  Men  do  not  see  the  founda- 
tion of  a  building.  The  child  that  comes 
into  this  house  of  prayer,  never  thinks  of 
the  buried  work  which  bears  up  its  walls. 
Set  him  to  build  a  mimic  church  in  imita- 
tion of  it,  he  lays  no  foundation  whatever. 
But  the  architect,  the  practical  workman, 
begins  with  the  foundation.  He  cannot 
overlook  it,  for  he  understands  its  impor- 
tance. So  the  mere  pretender  to  godliness 
thinks  that  the  church  has  little  to  do  with 
the  Lord  Jesus,  but  to  bear  his  name.  He 
imagines  that  he  himself  can  fio  without 
him.  He  can  form  hopes  and  expectations, 
and  rest  them  anywhere.  The  truth  is, 
he  is  playing  with  the  whole  matter  ;  he  is 


Itrifiing  with  his  immortal  soul.  But  look 
I  at  the  man  who  is  in  earnest — he  makes 
Christ  his  all.  He  lays  the  whole  weight 
of  himself  and  his  hopes  on  him.  Ask  him 
!  why  he  docs  so,  "  I   have  found  out,"  he 

I  says,  "  that  I  must  do  so.     I  have  seen  and 

I I  have  felt  that  every  hope  which  is  laid 
!  elsewhere,  sinks  into  the  mire  and  per- 
I  ishcs." 

And  the  most  exporienced  Christian  un- 
derstands this  the  best.  If  any  of  you^ 
i)rethren,  do  not  understand  it,  be  assured 
that  you  have  yet  learned  nothing  which  i.y 
worth  knowing.  You  may  belong  to  the 
church  of  England,  or,  as  you  conceive,  to 
some  purer  and  more  spiritual  church,  but 
you  belong  not  to  the  church  of  Christ. 
You  are  not  on  the  foundation,  and  this 
[  one  thing  mars  all.  Take  a  stone,  hew  it, 
polish  and  adorn  it,  make  it  in  appearance 
I  every  thing  the  builder  wants  for  his  fabric  ; 
yet  if  if  does  not  rest  in  some  way  on  the 
hidden  foundation,  it  can  form  no  part  of 
the  house,  it  will  be  an  incumbrance.  So 
with  you — you  may  be  brouglit  into  an  out- 
ward conformity  by  education,  by  riles  and 
ordinances,  with  the  people  of  God,  you 
may  be  like  them  and  seem  to  be  one  of  the 
goodliest  of  them  all,  but  if  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  does  not  bear  you  up,  if  you  are  not 
laid  on  him  and  resting  on  him,  when  the 
scaffold  is  removed,  you  will  go  down  ; 
when  the  trumpet  shall  sound  and  the  dead 
shall  be  raised,  you  will  have  no  name  or 
place  in  his  heavenly  house.  "  Behold," 
says  God,  "  I  lay  in  Zion  a  foundation  ;" 
get  on  it,  and  the  wreck  of  a  world  cannot 
shake  you.  Stand  anywhere  otT  it,  that 
wreck  sliall  sweep  you  away  with  it  and 
overwhelm  you  in  its  ruin. 

2.  The  materials  too  of  this  house  are 
found  mentioned  in  scripture.  They  are, 
however,  the  very  last  we  should  have  thought 
likely  to  build  it.  Here  is  a  glorious  foun- 
dation laid,  a  heavenly  and  divine  one,  and 
what  is  God  bringing  together  to  put  on  it  ? 
Not  all  the  collected  glory  and  excellency 
of  his  wide  universe,  the  riches  of  the  sun 
and  the  stars,  hut  the  rubbisli  of  our  misera- 
ble earth.  He  chooses  men  for  his  pur- 
pose ;  men  when  he  might  have  taken  an- 
gels ;  fallen,  sinful  men  ;  men  no  better 
than  their  fellow-men,  nay,  in  some  in- 
stances worse  ;  men  esteemed  vile  in  their 
own  vile  world,  the  refuse  of  the  bad,  the 
dross  of  the  dross.  "Ye  arc  God's  build- 
ing," said  Paul  to  the  Corinthians,  and  what 


2G0 


THE  CHURCH  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 


were  these  Corinthians  ?  He  gives  them  a 
catalogue  of  the  basest  sinners  that  their 
profligate  city  or  the  whole  earth  could  fur- 
nish, and  then  he  says  to  these  very  men, 
these  men  destined  for  the  walls  of  God's 
glorious  house,  "Such  were  some  of  you." 
We  come  then  totiiis  conclusion — no  mean- 
ness, no  guilt,  will  cause  God  to  reject  any 
one  of  us.  An  earthly  builder  is  obliged 
to  cast  away  bad  materials,  for  he  cannot 
alter  ihem.  God  has  promised  to  cast  away 
none  that  come  to  him,  for  he  can  alter 
them.  He  is  willing  to  lake  the  worst,  for 
he  is  able  to  transform  them  and  make 
them  the  very  best. 

But  though  all  alike  earthly  and  all  vile, 
yet  these  materials,  in  some  points,  differ 
very  much  from  each  other.  We  see  among 
them  men  of  all  countries,  all  classes,  all 
characters,  all  ages  ;  here  a  poor  man, 
there  a  rich  and  noble  one  ;  here  a  man 
of  the  loftiest  intellect,  one  whose  soaring 
mind  appears  ready  to  scale  the  heavens 
before  it  gets  to  them,  there  another  who 
knows  little  more  than  this,  that  he  has  a 
guilty  soul  which  has  found  in  Christ  a 
Saviour.  Now  a  mere  babe  that  has  hardly 
seen  the  light,  is  taken  to  this  building, 
and  now  an  old  man,  just  as  he  is  falling 
into  the  grave,  is  set  apart  ibr  it.  Look  at 
the  materials  brought  together  to  raise  a 
splendid  earthly  structure — there  cannot 
be  a  greater  difference  among  them,  than 
among  the  materials  of  tKis  heaven-built 
house.  And  this  difference  will  probably 
in  some  measure  always  continue.  Grace, 
we  see,  does  not  wholly  remove  it,  nor  per- 
haps will  glory  wholly  conceal  it.  The 
infant  of  earth  may  be  recognised  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  and  there  the  lofty  in- 
tf'llcct  may  be  lofty  still,  thirsting  more 
than  others  for  the  discovery  of  God's  glory, 
anil  delighting  more  than  others  in  the  vision 
and  contemplation  of  it. 

One  thing  more  however  must  be  said  of 
these  materials — in  all  this  diversified  mass, 
there  is  nothivi^  to  he  found,  V)hich  is  not  pre- 
pared for  the  heavenly  building  lefore  it  goes 
to  it.  True,  God  does  choose  in  his  won- 
derful mercy  earthly  and  base  materials 
wherewith  to  build  liis  house  ;  there  could 
not  be  baser ;  but  he  does  not  leave  them 
base,  no,  nor  yet  earthly.  He  works  on 
them.  Though  he  does  not  find  them  fit  for 
heaven,  he  makes  them  so.  He  changes 
them  within  and  without  ;  not  their  form 
only,  but  their  very  nature  ;   so  that  when  ! 


they  are  removed  to  heaven,  they  are  heav- 
enly ;  as  well  fitted  for  that  holy  world,  as 
they  once  were  for  this  polluted  one. 
Hence  St.  Paul  says  to  those  very  Corin- 
thians whom  he  had  just  described  as  once 
so  abominable,  and  says  it  immediately 
after  he  had  told  them  what  they  once  were, 
"  But  ye  are  washed,  but  ye  are  sanctified, 
but  ye  are  justified.  A  change  has  passed  on 
you,  and  an  entire  an;d  great  one."  And  you 
remember,  brethren,  how  it  was  with  the  first 
temple  at  Jerusalem,  a  type  of  God's  house 
in  heaven ;  "  There  was  neither  hammer, 
nor  axe,  nor  any  tool  of  iron,  heard  in  that 
house  while  it  was  in  building;"  it  rose  up 
in  a  solemn  silence.  And  how  was  this  ? 
"  The  house  when  it  was  in  building,  was 
built  of  stone  made  ready  before  it  was 
brought  thither."  It  is  idle  for  a  man  to 
think  of  heaven  with  an  unchanged  and 
unholy  heart.  We  are  brought  into  God's 
church  below  rude  and  unformed,  like 
stones  just  brought  from  the  quarry  ;  some 
of  us  too  very  polluted.  Any  one  in  any 
state  may  enter  in.  But  no  sooner  is  any 
one  really  in,  than  there  is  the  hammer  at 
work,  and  the  axe,  and  the  tool  of  iron. 
They  are  heard  by  the  man  and  they  are 
felt  by  the  man,  and  felt  deeply  and  long. 
He  as  certainly  becomes  an  altered  man, 
as  he  becomes  a  pardoned  one.  He  gradu- 
ally goes  through  a  spiritual  process  which 
fits  him  for  heaven,  "  This  is  the  law  of 
the  house,"  says  the  prophet,  "  Upon  the 
top  of  the  mountain,  the  whole  limit  thereof 
round  about  shall  be  most  holy.  Behold, 
this  is  the  law  of  the  house." 

3.  But  materials,  however  selected  and 
prepared,  will  not  of  themselves  form  a 
building,  no,  not  even  if  cast  on  a  good 
foundation.  There  must  be  further  a  put- 
ting  of  them  together.  They  must  be  sorted, 
and  arranged,  and  united  ;  each  one  must 
go  into  its  proper  place  ;  otherwise  they 
will  be  a  confused  heap,  not  a  house. 

Now  there  is  a  great  overlooking  of  this 
fact  amongst  us,  as  applied  to  the  church. 
We  almost  forget  that  God  has  a  church. 
We  feel  as  though  we  stood  alone  before 
him,  and  were  to  be  saved  alone.  As  for 
our  fellow-Christians,  we  know  indeed  that 
they  are  our  fellow-Christians,  going  along 
the  same  road  through  the  same  trials  to 
the  same  home ;  but  many  of  us  have  no 
habitual  impression  that  there  is  any  pecu- 
liar connection  between  us  and  them  ;  we 
do  not  look  on  one  another  as  parts  and, 


THE  CHURCH  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 


261 


necessary  parts  of  the  same  whole.  No 
sooner  however  do  wo  turn  to  this  scripture, 
than  God  sets  us  rifjht.  He  tells  us  that 
his  church  is  not  a  mass  of  disjointed  mate- 
rials or  polished  stones,  but  a  house  ;  that 
his  people  are  not  only  one  in  spirit,  they 
are  chosen  from  among  men  to  accomplish 
one  object  and  complete  one  design.  There 
is  a  secret  union,  an  unseen  though  real 
mutual  dependence  among  them.  Consist- 
ently with  his  plan,  he  could  not  do  with- 
out one  of  them.  The  whole  multitude 
would  suffer  if  one  were  gone.  Take  away 
a  small  part  of  this  building,  the  whole 
would  be  endangered.  Or  think  of  the 
material  universe.  Tell  a  philosopher  that 
you  are  going  to  remove  from  it  one  petty 
globe,  he  would  tell  you  that  you  will  pro-  j 
bably  pull  down  the  whole.  "  So  hung  I 
together,"  he  would  say,  "  and  nicely  bal-  j 
anced,  and  dependent,  are  all  its  parts,  I  j 
should  scarcely  dare  to  annihilate  an  atom."  I 
Just  so  with  the  church — every  individual 
in  it  is  chosen,  and  dealt  with,  and  formed, 
and  stationed,  with  a  reference  to  the  rest ; 
every  individual  is  probably  needful  for  the 
rest.  The  parts  of  a  house  are  different, 
but  they  all  have  their  use,  all  answer  their 
destined  end  ;  they  are  all  connected  one 
with  another,  and  by  their  junction  one 
with  another  and  underneath  with  the  foun- 
dation, they  form  one  whole.  This  is  what 
the  apostle  means  when,  speaking  of  the 
church,  he  says  that  "  the  whole  building 
is  fitly  framed  together  in  Christ,"  closely 
jointed  and  carefully  bound  together  ;  that 
believers  are  "  builded  together  in  Christ 
for  an  habitation  of  God." 

O  that  we  could  always   bear   this   in 
mind,  brethren  !     We    should    not   feel   so 
independent  one   of  another,  and   make  so 
light  one  of  another,  as  we  iwc  tempted  to 
do  now.     "  There  is  one,"  wo  sliould  say, 
and  say  it  of  our  meanest  brother  in  Christ, 
"  there  is  one  who  is  preparing  for  the  same 
liuilding  wherein   I    am   soon  to  be  placed.  I 
1  le  is  to  be  in  it  and   form  a  part  of  it.     I  j 
know  not  where  he  will  be  in  it,  but  this  I  ' 
know,  that  in  some  way  or  other  I  shall  be  i 
connected  with  him  and  perhaps  dependent  I 
on  him.     He  will    not  be  the  foundation  of 
the  building,  but  he  may  be  the  very  stone 
in   it  next  to   myself.     I   may  owe  to  him 
under  Christ,   in  a  way  that  I  cannot  now 
com|)rehpnd,  my  security  and  some  of  my 
honor  aiul  joy." 

III.   We  have  now  looked  at  the  church 


as  a  house,  but  the  text  goes    further ;  it 
calls  it  the  house  of  God. 

There  are  three  accounts  on  which  any 
one  may  call  a  house  his.  He  may  lie  the 
builder  of  it,  or  he  may  be  its  owner  and 
proprietor,  or,  if  neither  of  these  two,  he 
may  be  its  inhabitant,  or  he  may  be  all 
three,  and  then  it  will  be  emphatically  his, 
his  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  claimants. 
And  for  this  three-fold  reason  is  the  glori- 
fied church  said  to  be  the  Lord's. 

He  is  the  builder  of  this  house.  The 
plan  of  it  is  his,  and  so  is  its  prof^ress  and 
completion.  We  look  at  the  wide  universe.' 
We  are  told  that  God  created  it,  and  creat- 
ed it  out  of  nothing,  and  created  it  by  him- 
self, none  aiding  him  ;  and  this  we  bi'liove. 
It  is  just  as  true  that  his  church  above  is 
of  his  own  raising  and  creating,  and  we 
shall  one  day  as  fully  believe  it.  Much  as 
others  seem  to  us  now  to  have  contributed 
to  it,  we  shall  then  see  that  they  have  in 
fact  contributed  nothing  except  as  God's 
instruments,  no  more  than  to  the  forming  of 
the  world.  "  We  are  his  workmanshij)," 
says  St.  Paul.  "  The  Lord  hath  fouiidpd 
Zion,"  says  the  psalmist.  "  The  Lord  doih 
build  up  Jerusalem." 

He  is  also  the  oumer  of  this  house.  He 
is  building  it  for  himself  "  This  people," 
he  says,  "  have  1  formed  for  mysrit".'' 
"  Fear  not,"  he  says  to  his  church,  "  for  I 
have  redeemed  thee  ;  I  have  called  tliee 
by  thy  name  ;  thou  art  mine."  He  delights 
in  acknowledging  his  church  as  his,  and 
contemplating  it  as  his.  He  writes  bis 
name  on  it  now  in  this  world  even  whili^  he 
is  raising  it,  and  conspicuously  and  glori- 
ously will  he  make  his  name  to  shine  on 
it  when  he  has  completed  it  in  heaven. 

And  he  too  is  the  great  inhabitant  of  tiiis 
house.  It  is  built  for  this  very  purpose,  to 
be  "  a  habitation  of  God  through  the  Spirit." 
"  Behold,"  says  St.  John  when  speaking  of 
it  as  the  new  Jerusalem,  "  Behold,  the 
tabernacle  of  God  is  with  men,  and  he  will 
dwell  with  them  ;"  and  this  not  for  a  short 
time  or  occasionally — "  the  throne  of  God," 
he  adds,  "shall  be  in  it;"  he  will  make 
it  his  palace,  his  permanent  and  fixed 
abode. 

If  you  ask  the  meaning  of  this  figure, 
brethren,  you  may  easily  di.scover  it — you 
have  only  to  ask  what  your  home  is  to  you. 
Something  answering  to  this  is  the  church 
to  God  ;  not  indeed  a  refuge  from  winds 
and  storms.      "  God  sittelh  al)Ove  the  water 


262 


THE  CHURCH  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD. 


floods."  There  are  no  storms  that  can 
reach  him,  and  if  there  were,  he  would 
need  no  hiding  place  from  them.  Your 
home  is  more  to  you  than  a  refuge.  If  it 
is  what  a  home  ought  to  be,  it  is  the  seat 
of  your  comforts.  You  experience  there  a 
satisfaction  which  you  feel  nowhere  else. 
Your  heart  clings  to  it  when  in  it,  and 
aclies  for  it  when  away.  Now  transfer 
tliese  feelings  to  God.  When  he  says  that 
his  church  is  his  house,  he  means  that  he 
loves  his  church  and  delights  in  it  ;  rejoices 
to  hold  intercourse  with  his  saints,  esteems 
them  his  chief  joy.  "  The  Lord  hath  chosen 
Zion,"  says  the  psalmist ;  "  he  hath  desired 
it  for  his  habitation."  "  This  is  my  rest 
for  ever,"  answers  God  ;  "  Zion  delights 
and  satisfies  me  now  I  have  chosen  it ;  my 
mind  finds  repose  in  it."  "  Here  will  I 
dwell,"  he  adds,  like  one  who  has  entered 
a  house  that  pleases  him  ;  "  here  will  I 
dwell  ;  for  I  have  desired  it."  "The 
Lord,"  we  are  told  asain,  "  taketh  pleasure 
in  his  people."  O  wonderful  truth  that  a 
Being  so  holy  and  high,  should  find  aught 
in  us  to  delight  him  !  Yet  find  it  he  does. 
All  these  figurative  terms  applied  to  his 
church  are  proofs  that  he  finds  it.  Just  as 
we  delight  in  our  houses  and  gardens,  so 
does  the  living  God  delight  in  that  church 
which  he  calls  his  house  and  his  garden. 
Nay,  he  speaks  of  his  church  as  though  his 
chief  delight  were  in  it.  He  calls  it  his 
"banqueting  house;"  he  talks  of  supping 
in  it,  as  though  even  in  heaven  he  turned 
to  it  for  refreshment  and  joy. 

What  shall  we  say  then  to  all  this  ? 
Let  every  one  of  us  he  anxious  to  get  into  this 
spiritual  house,  to  belong  to  this  church  of 
the  living  God. 

"  We  are  all  in  it/'  some  of  you  may 
say  ;  "  we  all  belong  to  it."  O  brethren, 
deceive  not  yourselves  thus.  I  have  not 
been  speaking  of  the  outward,  visible 
church  of  Christ.  We  are  all  in  that,  and 
O  that  we  were  all  more  thankful  that  we 
are  in  it !  It  is  a  great  mercy  to  be  in  it. 
It  is  like  being  near  an  abundant  and  open 
feast  when  we  are  starving.  And  it  is  a 
great  honor  to  be  in  it.  It  is  an  honor  to 
bear  even  the  name  of  Christians  among 
our  fellow-men.  But  this  is  quite  a  differ- 
ent thing  to  being  in  the  invisiljle,  real 
church  of  Christ.  An  outward  thing,  bap- 
tism, can  place  us  in  the  one  ;  i)ut  it  must 
be  something  inward  and  spiritual  to  admit 
us  into  the  other. 


You  remember  wliat  Paul  said — "  He  is 
not  a  Jew,  which  is  one  outwardly  ;  nei- 
ther is  that  circumcision,  which  is  outward 
in  the  flesh  ;  but  he  is  a  Jew,  which  is  one 
inwardly,  and  circumcision  is  tliat  of  the 
heart,  in  the  spirit  and  not  in  the  letter." 
VVe  may  say  the  very  same  now  to  you. 
He  is  not  a  Christian,  which  is  one  out- 
wardly ;  neither  is  that  baptism,  which  is 
outward  in  the  fiesh.  There  is  a  mental 
process,  a  spiritual  baptism,  to  be  gone 
through,  before  any  man  living  can  be  a 
Cliristian  indeed.  No  man  comes  natu- 
rally into  this  house  of  God  ;  no  man  is 
born  in  it.  No  outward  rite  or  ordinance, 
however  sacred,  can  introduce  him  into  it. 
O  how  blind  must  men  be  to  the  real  na- 
ture of  this  house  to  think  that  it  can  ! 
Why,  brethren,  some  of  the  vilest  men  a 
God  of  patience  ever  bore  with,  have  been 
circumcised  and  baptized  men.  The  most 
enormous  crime  the  earth  ever  groaned  un- 
der, was  committed  by  circumcised  Jews, 
and,  remember,  by  Jews  who  gloried  in 
their  Jewish  privileges  ;  who  at  the  very 
time  they  were  shouting,  "  Crucify  him, 
crucify  him,"  would  have  shouted  as  read- 
ily, "  The  temple  of  the  Lord,  the  temple 
of  the  Lord,  are  we."  And  as  for  baptism, 
scarcely  had  it  been  instituted  as  a  Chris- 
tian rite,  when  two  who  had  received  it, 
are  struck  down  with  a  lie  on  their  lips  by 
an  angry  God  ;  and  there  a  little  after 
stands  the  faithful  Peter  declaring  to  an- 
other, "  Thou  art  in  the  gall  of  bitterness 
and  in  the  bond  of  iniquity." 

Sacraments  are  emblems.  They  are 
outward  and  visible  signs  of  an  inward 
and  spiritual  grace.  To  confound  them 
with  that  grace  itself,  is  as  absurd  as  to 
say  a  picture  is  a  man  ;  to  contend  that 
they  are  always  accompanied  with  that 
grace,  is  to  contradict  the  whole  tenor  of 
scripture,  to  cast  aside  common  sense,  to 
reason  against  undeniable  and  plain  facts ; 
and  more — it  is  to  show  that  we  have  not 
enough  love  for  our  own  souls  or  the  souls 
of  others  seriously  to  ask.  Are  those  souls 
safe  ?  Here,  alas  !  lies  the  root  of  all 
these  errors.  One  near  view  of  heaven 
and  hell,  a  deep  consciousness  in  the  soul 
of  the  soul's  guilty  and  lost  condition,  a 
broken  heart,  would  do  more  to  drive  tliese 
errors  out  of  us,  than  all  the  reasoning  in 
the  world.  The  man  who  knows  what  he 
is  and  whither  he  is  going,  does  not  despise 
ordinances  ;    he   reverences   them,  for  he 


THE  CHURCH  THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


263 


reverences  the  God  who  has  appointed 
them  ;  but  he  dares  not  trust  them.  lie 
reads  this  declaration  in  his  Bible,  "  Holi- 
ness becometh  thine  house,  O  Lord,  for 
ever,"  and  he  feels  that  he  must  become 
inwardly  and  spu'itually  a  new  and  holy 
creature  before  he  can  form  a  part  of  that 
house.  His  prayer  is,  "  Lord,  make  me  a 
new  creature.  Enter  my  soul,  dwell  in 
me  by  thy  Spirit,  that  so  I  may  be  a  living 
member  of  thy  church  on  earth,  and  have 
a  name  and  a  place  in  thy  house  in 
heaven." 


SERMON  LV. 


THE  TWENTY-FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

THE  CHURCH  THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 

Zechariah  VI.  12,  13. — "  He  shall  build  the  tem- 
ple of  the  Lord,  even  he  shall  build  the  temple 
of  the  Lord,  and  he  shall  bear  the  glory." 

This  is  a  prophecy  of  the  Messiah.  On 
the  fir.st  view  it  may  not  appear  such,  but 
such  doubtless  it  really  is. 

You  remember  that  after  their  return 
from  the  Babylonish  captivity,  the  Jews 
set  about  rebuilding  their  demolished  tem- 
ple. Owing  to  the  difficulties  they  encoun- 
tered, the  work  proceeded  but  slowly,  and 
at  last  was  completely  stopped.  The  peo- 
ple were  consequently  discouraged  ;  they 
thought  they  should  never  complete  it. 
But  the  Lord  is  a  compassionate  God.  He 
often  delivers  us  out  of  our  fears,  as  well 
as  out  of  our  real  troubles  ;  and  these  dis- 
heartened Jews  were  not  overlooked  by 
him.  To  comfort  them,  and  to  encourage 
them  still  to  keep  in  view  the  great  work 
they  had  entered  on,  Zechariah  is  com- 
manded to  tell  them,  that  notwithstanding 
all  threatening  appearance.s,  the  tcmjjle 
should  assuredly  be  built,  and  built  by 
those  very  hands  which  were  now  employ- 
ed on  it.  "  The  hands  of  Zerubbabel,"  he 
savs,  "  have  laid  the  foundation  of  this 
house  ;   his  hands  shall  also  finish  it." 

To  impress  this  message  more  deeply  on 
thfir  minds,  and  at  the  same  time  to  lead 
their  minds  beyond  it,  the  scene  takes 
place  which  is  recorded  in  this  passage. 
The  prophet  puts  two  crowns  on  the  head 
of  Joshua  the  high  priest,  and  then  speaks 


to  him,  not  only  as  the  raiser  up  of  the  des- 
olated ten)i)le,  but  as  a  ty|)e  of  an  enthro- 
ned Saviour,  the  builder  of  a  spiritual  and 
far  more  glorious  structure.  "  Behold," 
he  .says,  adopting  in  part  the  language  of 
Isaiah,  "  Behold  the  man  whose  name  is 
the  Branch,  and  he  shall  grow  up  out  of 
his  place,  and  he  shall  build  the  teniple  of 
the  Lord,  even  he  shall  build  the  temple 
of  the  Lord,  and  he  shall  bear  the  glory." 
.  We  collect  from  this  scripture  four 
truths — that  God  looks  on  liis  church  as 
his  temple,  that  the  Lord  Jesus  is  the 
builder  of  this  temple,  that  it  will  be  when 
completed  a  very  glorious  temple,  and  tliat 
the  enthroned  Saviour  will  have  all  the 
glory  of  it. 

I.  The  church  is  God's  temple,  "  the  tem- 
ple of  the  Lord." 

By  the  church  I  mean  all  that  the  word 
imports  in  its  highest  and  its  widest  sense — 
all  God's  real  servants,  all  his  believing, 
and  pardoned,  and  sanctified  people  of  all 
places  and  ages.  These  we  must  bring 
together  in  our  imaginations  into  one  body, 
and  place  them,  when  thus  brought  together, 
in  heaven.  We  must  then  go  a  .step  fur- 
ther,  and  look  on  them  there  under  the 
character  of  a  building.  The  te.xt  we 
were  considering  on  the  last  sabbath,  rep- 
resented this  building  as  God's  hou.se  or 
dwelling  place.  But  houses,  you  are 
aware,  are  of  different  kinds,  and  have  dif- 
ferent  names  applied  to  them  according  to 
the  rank  of  the  persons  who  occupy  them. 
There  is  the  cottage  for  the  poor  man,  and 
the  mansion  for  the  great  man,  and  the 
palace  for  the  king.  And  when  God  builds, 
ids  habitation  shall  have  a  name  and  char- 
acter of  its  own — it  is  a  temple.  This 
figure  then  does  not  destroy  the  other.  It 
only  carries  it  a  little  further  and  adds  to 
its  meaning.  View  the  church  simply  as 
God's  house,  then  we  look  on  it  as  some- 
thing which  God  dw^clls  in,  and  rests  in, 
and  delights  in  :  there  is  the  idea  of  famil- 
iarity and  of  pleasure  on  God's  part  con- 
veyed in  the  term.  View  it  as  God's  tem- 
ple, then  a  sacredness  comes  over  it. 

The  house  becomes,  first,  a.  consecrated 
place,  a  place  appropriated  and  set  ajiarf 
for  holy  |)urpo.ses.  The  glorified  church 
in  heaven,  tlie  term  intimates,  has  been 
built  up  in  heaven  for  Jehovah's  peculiar 
use  and  honor.  Sinners  are  taken  there,  it 
says,  not  mainly  to  be  happy  there,  but  to 
glorify   God    there  ;  to   answer   the  same 


264 


THE  CHURCH  THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


purposes  there  that  the  temple  answered 
at  Jerusalem,  and  that  churches  answer  in 
our  own  land.  Hence  it  is  said  that  "  the 
Lord  hath  set  apart"  or  consecrated  "  him 
that  is  godly  for  himself."  "  Ye,"  says 
St.  Peter  to  the  church,  and  says  it,  observe, 
just  after  he  had  called  that  church  God's 
temple,  "  Ye  are  a  chosen  generation,  a 
royal  priesthood,  a  holy  nation,  a  peculiar" 
or  appropriated  "  people."  "  He  has  pre- 
destinated us,"  says  St.  Paul,  foreordained 
"  us  to  the  praise  of  his  glory." 

And  there  is  the  idea  of  worship  and  de- 
votion connected  with  this  term.  It  im- 
plies, not  only  that  God  designs  his  people 
to  show  forth  his  praise  in  heaven,  but  that 
they  do  show  it  forth  there  ;  they  answer 
there  the  end  for  which  ihev  are  taken 
there  ;  God  is  served,  and  worshipped,  and 
magnified,  by  them.  A  building  on  earth 
may  be  raised  to  God's  glory,  but  if  no  wor- 
ship ever  goes  on  in  it,  we  shall  not  long 
call  it  a  sacred  place;  it  will  soon  be  dese- 
crated and  considered  a  conmion  building. 
"  But  my  house,"  says  God,  "  is  rrally  my 
temple.  I  am  adored  and  glorified  in  it. 
My  servants  serve  me.  My  people  in 
heaven  not  only  sit  at  my  feet,  and  see  my 
face,  and  share  my  joy,  they  minister  to 
me,  they  offer  me  every  moment  spiritual 
sacrifices.  The  loudest  song  that  is  sung 
here,  comes  from  their  burning  lips  ;  the 
noblest  services  that  are  done  here,  their 
hands  perform;  Angels  and  archangels 
serve  me  well,  but  not  as  these  redeemed 
sinners  serve  me.  In  love,  and  gratitude, 
and  praise,  they  outvie  them  all.  I  formed 
them  for  myself,  and  now  at  last  they  do 
indeed  show  forth  my  praise." 

II.  But  let  us  pass  on  to  another  truth — 
the  Lord  Jesus  ts  the  builder  of  this  ieinplc, 
the  only  builder  of  it. 

You  remember,  brethren,  when  looking 
at  the  church  as  God's  house,  we  were  told 
that  we  must  regard  Christ  as  the  founda- 
tion of  it.  It  is  said  to  be  built  up  in  him  ; 
he  is  called  the  chief  corner-stone  of  it. 
Here,  you  observe,  the  part  assigned  him 
in  th(^  edifice  is  changed  ;  he  is  described 
as  the  great  builder  of  it.  And  this  is  the 
ordinary  way  of  the  inspired  writers.  Christ 
they  know  to  be  all  in  all.  No  one  figure, 
they  see,  can  ever  set  forth  his  imj)ortance. 
Therefore  they  apply  figure  after  figure  to 
hiui.  They  do  not  heed  what  we  deem  in- 
congruities and  contradictions.  Thoy  call 
him  now  one  thing  and  now  uiiolhcr ;   tluv 


1  will  call  him  any  thing  in  order  to  repre- 
j  sent  him  as  he  is,  the  sum  and  substance, 
the  author  and  finisher,  the  beginning,  mid. 
j  die,  and  end,  of  man's  salvation.  Now  he 
is  the  foundation  of  the  church,  because  the 
church  rests  on  him,  he  sustains  it  and 
bears  it  up  ;  and  now,  when  another  part 
of  his  glorious  .character  and  work  is  to  be 
exhibited,  he  is  its  builder ;  "  He  shall 
build  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  even  he  shall 
build  it."  And  this  is  exactly  what  he 
says  of  himself.  In  one  and  the  san)e  sen- 
tence he  describes  himself  as  standing  in 
this  double  relation  to  his  church.  "Thou 
art  the  Christ,"  says  Peter,  "  the  Son  of  the 
living  God."  "Yes,"  he  says,  "  I  am,  and 
upon  tins  rock — my  Messiahship,  my  di- 
vinity, myself — I  will  build  my  church." 

There  are  three  things  the  builder  of  a 
temple  has  to  do. 

1.  To  form  the  plan  of  it.  He  has  to 
settle  in  his  mind  what  its  form  and  size 
shall  be,  and  of  what  materials  it  shall  con- 
sist. And  this  as  to  his  church  Christ  has' 
done. 

We  often  speak  as  though  this  man  and 
that  man  were  saved,  as  it  were,  at  ran- 
dom ;  as  though  God  scarcely  knew  for 
whom  he  had  made  ready  his  glorious  king- 
dom, or  whether  many  or  few  would  ever 
inhabit  it.  We  make  him  a  builder  throw- 
ing stone  on  stone  without  plan  or  design. 
But  this  is  not  the  fact.  The  whole  spi- 
ritual  edifice  above  has  been  from  eternity 
in  the  divine  mind.  Every  part  of  it  has 
been  thought  over  and  determined  on  in  that 
mind  ;  nothing  has  been  overlooked.  Turn 
to  the  wide  universe — all  hangs  together 
there,  world  on  world,  system  on  system. 
All  clearly  v/as  formed  on  a  predet'>rmined 
plan.  There  is  design  visible  everywhere 
j  throughout  it.  It  is  one  great  whole.  And 
i  look  at  the  human  frame,  our  bodies — there 
!  is  thought,  and  skill,  and  wisdom,  visible 
in  every  part  of  them.  Tliey  who  know 
them  the  best,  wonder  the  most  at  the  con- 
trivance and  mind  they  manifest.  And  so 
is  it  in  heaven.  All  there  is  ordered  in  all 
things.  The  happy  men  who  arc  to  live 
in  it,  the  place  each  one  is  to  fill,  the  bless- 
edntvss  he  is  to  enjoy,  the  work  he  is  lo  per- 
form, the  time  when  he  is  to  leave  the  world 
and  enter  it — this  was  all  settled  bef(>re  the 
sun  ever  rose  or  the  stars  ever  shone. 
"Come,"  will  the  great  King  of  it  one  day 
siiv  to  liis  redeemed.  "  I'ome,  ye  blessed 
of  mv    Father,   inherit    tin;    kingdom    pre. 


THE  CHURCH  THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


265 


pared  for  you   from  the  foundation  of  the  i 
world."  { 

2.  A  builder  too  has  to  prepare  h>s  mate-  j 
riaU,  at  least  the  builder  of  a  temple  has. 
He  does  not  find  them  prepared  for  him  by 
nature,  the  wrought  stone  in  the  quarry 
and  the  carved  beam  in  the  forest.  Nor 
can  thoy  prepare  themselves.  He  is  obliged 
to  work  on  them,  and  often  \\\\\\  much  labor  \ 
and  pains,  till  they  are  fit  for  his  purpose.   ; 

And  we,  brethren,  are  not  naturally  fit  i 
for  heaven,  nor  can  we  make  ourselves  or 
one  another  fit  for  it.     Some  of  us  do  not 
believe  this,  but  the  reason  is  plain — we  do  I 
not   know    what  heaven    is.      We    do  not 
know  how  holy  a  world  it  is,  or  we  should 
never  think  of  going   there  without   being 
first  prepared  for  it.     We  do  not  know  how  , 
glorious    a   world  it  is,  or  we   should  not 
dream  for  one  moment  of  preparing  our- 1 
selves  for  it.     Tlie  great  Builder  must  do 
all.      He  who  has  prepared  heaven  for  us, 
must  prepare  us  for  heavtn.     And  by  this, 
I  mean    more  than  that   he  must  save  us 
from  condemnation  and  cleanse  us  from  the 
guilt  of  sin   by  his  blood,  he  must  do  all 
that  is  needful  to  be  done  within  our  hearts ; 
he  must  deliver   us  from  the  power  of  sin 
by  his  Spirit ;   he   must  elevate    us  above 
our  naturally  low  and  base  alfections  ;  he 
must  form  in  us  a  capacity  and  meetness  j 
for  heaven's  high  work  and  joys.     The  first  j 
serious  thought  in   the  sinner's    mind,  the 
first  faint  breathing  of  the  soul   after  God, 
he  is  the  author  of;   and   the  sinner's  last 
dying  prayer,  his  last  joyful  song,  the  ma- 
turity of  his  faith  and  hope — it  is  all  Christ's 
work  :   he  has  wrought  it  all,  and  all  alone. 
Instruments  indeed   he   has  employed,  but 
what  are  they?     Instruments,  and  nothing' 
more.     The  chisel   might  as  well  say  that  i 
it  has  squared  the  stone,  or  the  axe  that  it  j 
has  made  ready  the  beam,  as  any  minister,  i 
or  any  friend,  or  any  man  or  angel,  say  of 
any   one    redeemed  sinner  in   heaven,  "  I 
brought  him  here,"  or  "  I  made  him  meet  to 
come." 

3.  And  one  thing  more  a  builder  has  to 
do — he  has  to  join  his  materials  together,  to 
put    each  one  of  them  into  the  place  for 
which  it  is  prepared.     And  this  also  is  the 
work  of  Christ.     He  knows  where  every 
stone  is  to  go,  and   when  it  is  ready  for  its  | 
station,  he  takes  it  from  the  earth  and  lavs  \ 
it  in  it.      He  has  in  his  mind  the  place  he  j 
has  made  ready  for  every  ransomed  soul, 
and  with  unutterable  joy  he  takes  it  thither.  I 


"  Not  here  nor  there,"  he  says  to  it  as  he 
leads  it  through  the  courts  of  the  heavenly 
house,  and  it  longs  perhaps  to  rrst  here 
and  there  amid  happy  and  adoring  spirits; 
"  we  must  go  further  in  ;  we  nmst  get  nearer 
the  mercy-seat."  He  shows  it  at  last  its 
own  place  close  by  the  throne  of  God,  and 
the  delighted  soul,  half-awed  and  wonder- 
ing, finds  itself  in  it.  It  is  not  only  in  the 
world  where  for  years  it  has  longed  to 
be,  it  sees  that  it  is  in  the  very  station 
in  that  world,  where  it  can  be  the  hap- 
piest and  honor  its  God  the  most.  The 
all-wise  Architect  "fitly  frameth"  the 
whole  building  together."  All  its  mate- 
rials are  adapted  one  for  another.  All 
are  united,  all  grow  together,  a  holy,  a 
majestic,  and  a  glorious  temple  to  the 
Lord.     Consider  its  glory. 

III.  The  text  bears  us  out  in  asserting 
that  it  really  is  a  very  glorious  building.  It 
does  not  expressly  say  this,  but  it  implies 
it.  There  is  to  be  a  glory  result  to  Christ 
from  it,  and  this  glory  is  doubtless  to  pro- 
ceed in  part  from  something  excellent  and 
magnificent  in  the  building  itself. 

And  what  a  subject,  brethren,  opens 
itself  to  us  here!  The  mind  looks  Iiillier 
and  thither,  it  strains  itself  to  take  in  the 
glory  of  the  ransomed  church  in  a  heav- 
enly world,  and  yet  after  all  what  can  it 
do?  It  is  like  looking  at  the  glorious 
sun — we  look  and  admire,  but  the  view 
is  too  much  for  us ;  the  sight  becomes 
confused  ;  we  feel  at  last  that  we  can  dis- 
cern nothing. 

Does  beauty  make  a  building  glorious, 
a  noble  plan  and  excellent  workmanship  ? 
Is  that  a  glorious  fabric  in  which,  the  longer 
we  gaze  on  it,  the  more  mind,  and  judg- 
ment, and  taste,  and  power,  we  discover  ? 
O  what  so  beautiful  as  the  church  of  the 
first-born  ?  what  so  perfect  as  its  salvation 


and  h 


appmess 


?     The  blood  of  Christ  ht 


cleansed  it ;  his  Spirit  has  purified  it;  his 
righteousness  is  on  it ;  it  is  "  without  spot, 
or  blemish,  or  any  such  thing."  Taken 
from  an  unholy  world,  it  is  as  pure  as 
though  sin  had  never  come  near  it.  And 
there  is  not  a  sorrow,  any  more  than  a 
.stain,  to  be  found  in  it.  It  shines  in  the 
holiness  and  likeness  of  its  Redeemer,  and 
it  exults  in  its  R(  dc  emer's  joy. 

We  may  bear  in  mind  these  two  facts  in 
reference  to  the  glory  of  this  temple — 

1.  Il  is  such,  that  it  satisfies  Christ  hint' 
self. 


266 


THE  CHURCH  THE  I  EMPLE  OF  GOD. 


You  know,  brethren,  how  he  loves  his 
church,  or  rather  you  do  not  know.  His 
love  for  it  passes  your  knowledge,  and  all 
knowledge  save  his  own.  But  you  know 
tliat  his  love  fur  il  is  great.  And  you  know 
too  that  he  has  been  long  familiar  with 
scenes  of  splendor  and  beauty.  He  dwells 
in  a  magnificence,  compared  with  which 
all  earthly  pomp  is  meanness,  and  all 
earthly  brightness  darkness.  He  must  have 
therefore  very  lofty  conceptions  of  splendor 
and  beauty.  It  is  not  a  little  magnificence, 
that  will  satisfy  him.  Now  what  does  he 
tliink  of  his  redeemed  church  ?  "  Thou 
art  all  fair,'' 'he  says  to  it;  "there  is  no 
spot  in  thee."  He  is  said  greatly  to  "  de- 
sire its  beauty,"  to  delight  in  it,  to  pre- 
sent it  to  himself  "  with  exceeding  joy." 
Well  tlicn  may  we  say  of  this  church  that 
it  is  "all  glorious."  In  heaven,  brethren, 
we  shall  not  only  be  what  we  ourselves 
wish  to  be,  we  shall  be  what  the  Lord  Je- 
sus, with  his  lofty  mind  and  his  intense  love 
for  us,  wishes  us  to  be.  "  We  are  satis- 
fied," will  be  our  language  ;  and  he,  as  he 
beholds  our  purity,  and  witnesses  our  hap- 
piness, and  looks  on  our  glory,  even  he  will 
say,  "  And  I  too  am  satisfied.  There  is  a 
glory  here,  which  recompenses  all  my  de- 
gradation and  wo.  I  bought  it  for  my 
church  with  my  own  precious  blood,  and  as 
I  now  look  on  my  church  in  possession  of 
it,  I  feel  that  1  did  not  pay  for  it  too  costly 
a  price." 

2.  This  temple  has  occvpicd  the  mighty 
Jehovah  far  longer  than  am)  of  his  vorks — 
from  this  fact  also  we  infer  its  gloriousness. 

We  see  a  great  glory  in  the  sun  as  it 
shines  in  its  brightness,  and  great  beauty 
in  the  moon,  and  as  we  look  on  the  stars, 
we  often  feel  that  the  heavens  do  indeed 
declare  the  glory  of  God,  that  we  really 
are  in  a  magnificent  universe.  And  then 
sometimes  our  minds  travel  further,  and 
we  think  how  splendid  this  universe  must 
be  to  a  seraph  or  angel  wiio  can  look  per- 
haps at  one  glance,  if  not  throughout  it,  yet 
far  enough  in  it  to  see  many  suns  and  many 
moons  in  all  their  radiance,  as  we  see  ours, 
and  see  them  in  their  mutual  connection 
nnd  dependence.  But,  brethren,  this  uni- 
verso  we  so  admire,  was  formed,  as  it  were, 
in  a  moment.  "  By  the  word  of  the  Lord 
were  the  heavens  made,  iind  all  the  host 
of  them  by  the  breath  of  his  mouth."'  "  He 
spake,  and  it  was  done  ;  lie  commanded, 
and  it  st'jod  fast."     But  as  for  his  temple 


n  heaven,  no  moment,  no  word,  built  thai. 
Ages  have  been  employed  in  building  it ; 
all  the  perfections  of  the  Godhead  have 
been  called  forth  to  raise  and  adorn  it  ;  it 
has  cost  Jehovah,  if  we  may  dare  use  such 
language,  the  expenditure  of  more  wisdom, 
and  love,  and  power,  tlian  all  his  other 
works.  It  is  the  perfection  of  his  work- 
manship. It  is  the  achievement  of  a  glori- 
ous  Omnipotence,  and  we  may  conclude, 
therefore,  that  it  must  itself  be  glorious, 
inconceivably  glorious,  glorious  beyond  all 
other  created  objects.  God  calls  it  "  his 
glory."  He  speaks  of  it  as  though  he 
would  point  to  it  in  heaven  and  say  to  his 
universe,  "  If  you  would  see  what  my  right 
hand  can  accomplish,  look  there." 

IV,  We  have  yet  another  truth  to  notice 
— the  Lord  Jesus  ivill  have  all  the  glory  o/ 
this  temple.  He  ought  to  have  it,  the  text 
intimates,  for  he  built  it ;  and  he  shall  have 
it,  it  says  ;  "  He  shall  bear  the  glory." 

There  are  two  reasons  why  Christ  is  so 
little  honored  on  earth  as  the  Author  of  his 
people's  salvation — the  greatness  of  that 
salvation  is  not  known,  and  we  do  not  see 
how  entirely  the  work  is  his.  We  are  like 
men  looking  at  a  part  only  of  a  magni- 
ficent building,  and  that  building  only  half 
finished  and  more  tiian  half  hidden,  encum- 
bered too  with  scaflbldingand  sordid  rubbish. 
We  cannot  enter  into  the  architect's  design, 
we  do  not  see  how  much  he  has  accon)- 
plished,  we  have  no  idea  of  the  difficulties 
he  has  overcome.  Besides,  looking  at  the 
axes,  and  hammers,  and  tools  of  iron,  that 
are  strewed  around,  we  are  ready  to  think 
that  he  has  had  many  helpers  in  the  work, 
has  wrought  chiefiy  by  others,  has  actually 
done  little  perhaps  with  his  own  hand.  But 
the  time  will  come  when  all  the  seatlblding 
from  the  heavenly  building  shall  be  swept 
away.  We  shall  see  it  in  its  perfect  beauty 
and  majesty,  and  our  hearts,  brethren,  will 
glow  with  admiration  of  the  mighty  Archi- 
tect. And  then  as  we  are  ready  to  look 
around  for  his  fellow- workmen,  for  the  men 
who  labored  on  his  design  and  realized  his 
project ;  as  we  are  ready  to  divide  our 
praise  between  the  great  Redeem-er  and  his 
ministering  angels  and  servants,  "  I  did  it 
all  myself,"  lie  will  say.  "  Of  the  people 
there  was  none  with  me.  From  the  bottom 
to  the  top  of  it,  I  erected  it.  My  hands 
laid  the  foundation  of  this  house,  my  liands 
have  also  finished  it."  And  what  will  be 
the   answei   of  prophets  and  apostles,  of 


THE  CHURCH  THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


2G': 


ministers  and  angels,  of  those  who  once 
seemed  to  be  someihing  in  tiiis  buildinrr  ? 
"  We  were  really  nothing,"  they  cry  ;  "  wo 
were  merely  the  instruments  in  his  mighty 
hands." 

I  said  at  the  outset  of  this  subject,  that 
God's  design  in  this  building  was  his  own 
honor,  that  it  is  erected  in  heaven  to  glorify 
him  and  sliow  forth  his  praise  ;  and  in  this 
way  this  object  is  attained — the  salvation 
i)f  the  church  is  made  so  glorious,  that  great 
praise  must  flow  somewhere  on  account  of 
it,  he  who  is  the  Author  of  it  must  be  mag- 
nified ;  and  then  it  has  been  brought  to  pass 
in  such  a  way,  every  thing  leading  to  it 
has  been  arranged  in  such  a  manner,  it  has 
been  so  planned  and  so  executed,  that  God's 
hand  is  seen  everywhere  in  it.  No  one 
can  possibly  divide  with  him  the  honor  of 
accomplishing  it.  It  will  be  plainly  seen 
to  be  his  work,  as  entirely  his  as  the  crea- 
tion of  the  light  or  the  formino-of  the  worlds. 
Hence  the  psalmist  says,  "  When  the  Lord 
shall  build  up  Zion;  he  shall  appear  in  his 
glory."  We  shall  mean  something  at  last 
when  we  say,  "Thine  is  the  glory."  It 
will  be  our  everlasting  employment  and  de- 
light to  say,  "  Thine  be  the  praise." 

And  what  still  sweetens  this  thought,  is 
the  fact  that  it  is  God  in  Christ  we  are  thus 
to  magnify  and  adore  ;  no  unseen,  unknown 
God,  but  a  manifested  Jehovah ;  he  who 
once  trod  our  earth  and  still  wears  our 
form.  "They  shall  hang  upon  him,"  says 
the  prophet,  "all  the  glory  of  his  Father's 
house."  They  shall  trace  it  all  to  the  Man 
Christ  Jesus.  "  He  shall  build  the  temple 
of  the  Lord,  even  he  shall  build  the  temple 
of  the  Lord,  and  he  shall  bear  the  glory." 

Brethren,  shall  you  and  I  ever  see  this 
temple  ?  Shall  wc  ever  form  a  part  of  it  ? 
Is  there  a  place  for  us  in  heaven  ?  Is  Christ 
making  us  ready  for  it  ?  Questions  such 
as  these  must  surely  rise  up  in  our  minds 
at  the  close  of  a  subject  like  this.  O  that 
every  one  of  us  would  seriously  endeavor 
to  answer  them  !  And  we  must  not  stop 
here. 

Is  Christ  the  builder  of  God's  temple? 
Then  this  text  calls  on  all  of  us  really  to 
regard  him  as  such. 

You  must  so  regard  him,  who  are  wait- 
ing to  be  carri&j  up  to  your  places  in  the 
lofty  walls  of  this  temple.  The  stone, 
brethren,  does  not  rend  itself  from  the  pa- 
rent rock,  it  does  not  transjjort  itself  from 
the  quarry  to  the  building,  it  does  not  hew 


and  fashion  itself  for  the  station  it  is  to  fill. 
The  builder  separates  it,  the  builder  le- 
moves  it,  the  builder  squares  and  f  jrms  it. 
O  remember  what  that  great  Builder  who 
"  worketh  all  things  after  the  counsel  of 
his  own  will,"  has  done  for  you,  and  give 
him  anew  to-day  your  thanks  and  praise! 

And  you  who  would  be  stones  in  this 
buildintr.  may  learn  here  how  to  become 
so.  You  are  trying  perhaps  to  carry  your- 
selves to  it  and  prepare  yourselves  for  it. 
You  are  laboring  in  various  ways  to  get 
to  heaven  and  make  yourselves  meet  for 
heaven,  and  you  have  been  laboring  thus 
for  a  long  time.  With  what  succfss  ?  If 
you  are  really  in  earnest,  you  will  say, 
with  none  at  all.  Now  and  then  for  a  little 
while  you  have  thought  all  has  been  going 
on  well,  but  you  have  soon  discovered  that 
nothing  Ijas  been  going  on,  that  you  are 
like  men  building  a  wall  one  day,  which 
falls  down  the  next.  And  you  think  this 
strange  ;  but  look  at  this  scripture — it  ex- 
plains  it  all.  It  tells  you  plainly  where 
your  error  lies.  "  The  man  whose  name 
is  the  Branch,  he,"  it  says,  "  shall  build 
the  temple  of  the  Lord  ;"  but  you  say,  "  No, 
ue  will  build  it  ourselves."  You  have 
blindly  taken  the  work  of  Christ  on  you, 
and  it  is  a  work  you  can  never  perform. 
You  are  no  more  equal  to  it,  than  a  lifeless 
stone  is  able  to  place  itself  on  some  rising 
wall.  Perhaps  your  fruitless  efTorts  have 
almost  taught  you  this.  Bless  God  if  they 
have.  They  have  then  not  been  fruitless. 
They  have  been  the  wedges  and  levers  in 
his  mighty  hand,  to  sever  you  from  nature's 
rock.  What  you  need  now  is  to  betake 
yourselves  in  conscious  deformity  and  help- 
lessness to  Christ.  Lie  down  before  him 
and  say,  "  Lord,  help  me.  I  am  not  fit 
for  the  temple  thou  art  building;  I  cannot 
make  myself  fit  for  it  ;  but  thou  canst  do 
any  thing,  and  any  thing  with  me.  Lord, 
turn  unto  me  and  have  mercy  upon  me. 
Work  on  me  by  thine  omnipotent  grace, 
O  for  thy  name's  sake  make  me  a  living 
stone  in  thy  glorious  house." 

Again — is  the  church  the  temple  of  the 
Lord,  and  the  glorious  temple  of  the  Lord  ? 
Then  this  text  bids  us  cherish  in  our  tninas 
a  hi^h  reverence  and  /ore  for  it. 

If  (lod  so  loves  his  church,  as  to  call  it 
his  house,  to  dwell  in  it  and  delight  in  it; 
if  he  deems  it  so  sacred  as  to  call  it  his  tem- 
ple ;  if  he  sees  so  much  grandeur  and 
beauty  in  it  as  to  speak  of  its  glory  ;  surely, 


208 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD  BUILT  AMIDST  DIFFICULTIES. 


brethren,  ^^e  may  firifl  in  it  something  to 
love,  something  to  delight  in,  something  to 
revere  and  admire.  And  yet  what  is  the 
fact  ?  Many  of  us  never  think  of  it,  and 
the  love  of  others  for  it  is  growing  cold. 
We  love  our  own  church  ;  we  have  learned 
of  late  to  cleave  to  it  more  than  ever.  This 
is  wel'.  But  what  is  the  church  of  Eng- 
land ?  England's  greatest  blessing,  I  know, 
but  it  is  a  part  only  of  the  church  of  Christ. 
It  is  not  Christ's  kingdom  on  the  earth,  it  is 
only  one  province  of  that  kingdom.  It  is 
no  more  to  be  compared  with  that  heavenly 
church  of  which  you  have  been  hearing  to- 
day, than  the  tabernacle  in  the  wilderness 
with  the  dwelling  place  of  God  on  Zion  ; 
or  than  the  outer  court  of  that  stately  dwell- 
ing place  with  the  holy  of  holies  where 
God  shone  forth  within  ;  or  than  a  field  of 
tares  and  wheat  growing  side  bji  side  on 
the  earth's  surface,  is  to  be  compared  with 
the  wheat  of  a  thousand  harvests  from  a 
thousand  fields,  treasured  up  without  a  sin- 
gle tare  in  the  paradise  of  God.  The  point 
to  be  aimed  at  by  us  is,  to  love  our  own 
church  well;  to  love  the  universal  church 
on  earth  Ijetter  ;  and  the  church  in  heaven 
best  of  all.  The  first  is  a  branch  of  Christ's 
great  family  ;  the  second  is  that  family 
itself  of  one  generation,  with  many  stran- 
gers in  it,  who  are  eventually  to  be  severed 
from  it ;  the  last  is  that  family  in  all  its 
generations,  collected  and  brought  together 
into  one  happy  home  with  not  a  single  stran- 
ger left. 

O  Ijrethren,  we  know  not  what  the  glori- 
fied church  in  heaven  is.  God  has  been 
carrying  to  it  for  ages  all  that  he  has  seen 
on  earth  worth  preserving.  The  riches  of 
all  his  churches  have  been  for  thousands 
of  years  flowing  into  it,  and  will  flow  into 
it  till  its  glory  is  full.  It  is  "  the  place  of 
God's  sanctuary,"  that  he  has  beautified. 
It  is  "the  place  of  his  feet,"  that  he  has 
promised  to  make  glorious.  It  is  "  the 
house  of  his  glory,"  of  which  he  has  said, 
"I  will  glorify  it."  It  is  his  "glorious 
church."  lie  can  hardly  speak  of  it  with- 
out speaking  of  its  glory.  O  let  us  try 
to  lift  up  our  thoughts  to  if,  to  lift  up  our 
hearts  to  it,  to  comfort  ourselves  amidst  our 
private  troubles  and  the  distractions  of  the 
church  on  earth,  with  the  prospect  of  soon 
being  in  the  midst  of  its  splendors  and  joys. 


SERMON  LVI. 

THE  TWENTY-SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

THE  TEMrLE  OF  GOD  BUILT  AMIDST  DIF- 
FICULTIES. 

Zkciiaiuah  IV.  G,  7. — "  This  is  the.  icord  of  the 
Lord  unto  Zerubhabel,  saying,  Not  by  might, 
nor  by  power,  but  by  my  Spirit,  saith  the  Lord 
of  hosts.  WIio  art  thou,  O  great  mauntnin  ? 
Before  Zerubbnbel  thou  shall  become  a  plain  , 
and  he  shall  bring  forth  the  head-stone  thereof 
with  shoutings,  crying,  Grace,  grace  unto  if." 

Let  us  turn  once  aijain,  brethren,  to  the 
subject  we  were  lately  contemplating — the 
rebuilding  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem  after 
the  return  of  the  Jews  from  their  captivity 

The  view  we  then  took  of  it  carried  our 
thoughts  to  heaven.  The  temple  itself  was 
held  forth  to  us  as  an  emblem  of  God's  re- 
deemed church  in  glory,  and  Zerubbabel 
and  Joshua,  the  builders  of  it,  as  types  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  great  Saviour  of 
that  church,  the  author  of  its  redemption 
and  glory.  This  scripture  also  directs  our 
minds  upward,  but  not  till  the  conclusion 
of  it.  It  exhibits  to  us,  in  the  first  instance, 
the  church  on  earth,  and  its  Redeemer  fash- 
ioning it  and  preparing  it  on  earth  for  a  bet- 
ter world.  These  four  points  are  contained 
in  it — first,  the  seeming  difliculties  in  our 
great  Builder's  wav  ;  secondly,  the  ea.se 
and  completeness  with  which  he  overcomes 
them  ;  thirdly,  the  means  whereby  notwith- 
standing them  he  carries  on  his  work  ;  and 
then,  lastly,  one  of  the  effects  produced  by 
the  completion  of  it. 

L  We  begin  with  ihc  seeming  difficidlies 
in  nii.r  LorcVs  way. 

You  remember  how  the  building  of  the 
second  temple  was  obstructed.  Solomon 
raised  his  goodly  structure  in  quiet,  with 
all  around  him  eager  to  aid  him,  and  even 
the  very  heatlien  his  helpers.  But  Joshua 
and  Zerubbabel  had  difiiculty  after  difficul- 
ty to  overcome.  The  Jews  were  now  an 
impoverished  people.  Just  returned  from 
a  seventy  years'  captivity,  they  were  a  dis- 
heartened people.  Enemies  too  surround- 
ed and  harassed  them,  so  that  they  were 
often  obliged  to  labor  with  the  tool  in  ono 
hand  and  the  sword  in  the  other.  Hinderan- 
ces  also  sprung  up  where  they  might  have 
been  least  expected.  Intrigue  and  party 
spirit  were  going  on  among  themselves, 
.some  of  the  leaders  of  the  people  adhering 
to  the  faithful  Joshua,  while  others  were 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD  BUILT  AMIDST  DIFFICULTIES. 


269 


emplovinif  r-vorv  art  tlioy  were  masters  of 
to  thwart  and  retard  liim. 

And  turn  to  tlie  Lord  Jesus.  O  what 
dilTicultir^s  were  there  in  his  way  when  he 
first  undertook  to  build  God's  temple  in 
heaven  !  They  are  compared  here  to  a 
mountain  rising  up  directly  in  a  traveller's 
path,  hu'j:e,  immoveable,  impassable. 

lie  had,  first,  to  introduce  sinners  into 
heaven  ;  to  bring  those  near  to  God,  who 
were  among  the  farthest  from  him  ;  to 
snatch  the  brand  from  the  burninLS  and  to 
place  it,  no  more  a  brand,  but  a  living,  a 
plrai-aiit  and  fruitful  tree,  in  the  paradise 
of  heaven.  "  The  soul  that  sinnelh,  it  shall 
dii\"  said  God.  Tlie  Lord  Jesus  had  to 
alter  the  thing  which  was  gone  forth  from 
God's  lips,  and  to  do  this  v/ithout  impeach- 
ing his  faithf Illness  or  tarnishing  his  glory. 
Many  souls  that  had  sinned  and  grievously 
sinned,  were  to  live,  and  live  in  the  highest 
honor  and  blessedness. 

And  then,  in  the  next  place,  he  had  to 
prepare  sinners  for  heaven.  And  the  mind 
gets  bewildered,  brethren,  as  it  looks  at  the 
magnitude  of  this  work.  It  appears  to  some 
of  us  a  light  thing  to  fit  a  .soul  for  a  heav- 
enly world,  but  did  we  know  what  that 
world  is  and  what  we  are,  we  should  say, 
not  one  of  us  ever  can  be  fitted  -for  it.  It  is 
a  holy  world,  no  unclean  foot  has  ever 
trodden  on  it ;  but  we  are  all  over  defiled  ; 
our  hearts  "  are  full  of  evil  ;"  we  are  "  des- 
perately wicked,"  and  we  are  naturally 
content  to  be  so.  Nay,  worse — we  are  de- 
termined to  be  so;  we  resolutely  set  our- 
selves against  every  thing  which  is  likely 
to  make  us  otherwise  ;  we  love  sin  and 
cleave  to  it  as  though  it  were  our  life.  This 
is  the  state  of  every  living  man  when  Christ 
first  lays  his  hand  on  him,  and  it  continues 
his  state  in  some  measure  to  the  very  last. 
The  Lord  his  Redeemer  has  to  work  to  the 
very  last  against  the  bias  of  nature  and  the 
power  of  nature's  lusts. 

And  consider  how  many  of  such  men  he 
has  to  work  on  and  change  before  his  task 
can  be  completed.  He  has  to  bring  "  many 
sons  unto  glory."  God's  temple  in  heaven 
is  to  be  a  magnificent  building.  It  will 
contain  more  stones  than  were  ever  piled 
one  on  another  in  any  earthly  structure, 
and  the  Lord  Jesus  with  his  single  hand 
has  to  prepare  them  all. 

And  then  remember  where  this  work  is  to 
be  done ;  not  in  a  quiet  heaven  with  all 
around  rejoicing  in  it  and  eager  to  carry  it 


on,  but  at  a  ilistance  from  lieaven,  amid 
strife  and  confusion  ;  in  a  world  where 
there  i.s  every  thing  to  obstruct  and  really 
nothing  to  aid  it. 

And  it  is  to  be  accomplished  too  against 
aU  the  poroers  of  darkness.  It  is  to  be  done 
in  Satan's  own  kingdom,  where  his  power 
is  strongest,  and  where  all  the  force  and 
deceit  he  can  employ  will  be  put  forth  to 
the  greatest  advantage  against  it. 

And  it  cannot  he  done  in  an  hour,  or  a  day, 
or  a  year.  No  one  nn'ghty  efTort  of  omnipo- 
tencp  is  to  bring  it  to  pass.  Many  years 
had  Joshua  and  Zerubbabel  to  labor  on 
their  temple  ;  ft)rty  and  six  years  did  the 
Jews  labor  afterwards  in  enlarging  and 
adorning  it,  ana  in  one  of  their  conversa- 
tions with  Christ,  they  bring  forward  this 
circumstance  to  show  the  greatness  and  dif- 
ficulty of  the  work  ;  but  the  Lord  Jesus  has 
been  employed  six  thousand  years  already 
on  the  temple  he  is  raising,  and  it  is  not  yet 
finished.  The  number  of  his  elect  is  not 
yet  accomplished,  nor  his  kingdom  and  his 
glory  come.  There  is  needed  therefore 
here  a  patience  that  is  well  nigh  infinite,  as 
well  as  a  power  that  is  boundle.ss.  There 
must  be  brought  into  action  here  a  love 
that  never  tires,  as  well  as  an  arm  that 
never  droops.  As  we  think  of  these  things, 
well  may  we  say  with  the  disciples,  "  Who 
then  can  be  saved  ?"  These  great  moun- 
tains never  can  be  passed.  We  can  see 
neither  the  summit,  nor  extent,  nor  number 
of  them.  All  that  we  know  is,  that  they 
lie  in  their  fearful  magnitude  between  us 
and  heaven,  and  we  cannot  get  over  them. 
So  say  appearances;  but  look  to  our  second 
point — 

II.  The  ease  and  completeness  with  which 
the  Redeemer  overcomes  the  difficulties  before 
him. 

This  is  strongly  expressed  in  the  text, 
more  strongly  however  in  the  abrupt  lan- 
guage of  the  original,  than  in  our  transla- 
tion. If  we  omit  the  words  in  italics,  we 
shall  get  the  real  force  of  the  passage  ; 
"  Who  art  thou,  O  great  mountain  ?  Be- 
fore Zerubbabel  a  plain." 

"  Who  art  thou  ?"  There  is  no  surprise 
or  ignorance  implied  in  this  question.  It 
is  not  asked  as  though  the  Redeemer  had 
met  with  some  difficulty  in  his  way,  which 
he  had  not  anticipated  or  did  not  understand. 
There  is  something  like  derision  and  con. 
tempt  in  it.  The  question  exj)resses  at 
once  his  own  dignity,  ind  the  insignificance 


270 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD  BUILT  AMIDST  DIFFICULTIES. 


in  Ihs  siiiht  of  the  obstacles  opposed  to  him  ;  | 
hisown  ahniphty  power  and  their  utter  impo-  ' 
tence.  "  Who  art  thou,  O  great  mountain  ? 
Something  which  is  to  turn  me  aside  in  my 
career  of  glory  ;  or  which  I  am  to  stand 
still  and  examine,  and  then  gird  up  my 
strengtii  to  get  over  ?  No  ;  before  me  thou 
art  a  plain,  nothing,  no  mountain  at  all.  I 
pass  over  thee  without  a  pause  or  an  effort." 
The  text  is  an  echo  of  David's  language 
in  the  second  psalm.  He  is  speaking  of 
the  enemies  of  Christ.  "He  that  sitteth  in 
tlie  heavens,"  he  says,  "  shall  laugh  ;  the 
Lord  shall  have  them  in  derision."  And 
then  he  adds,  "  Thou  shalt  break  them  with 
a  rod  of  iron ;  thou  shalt  dash  them  in 
pieces  like  a  potter's  vessel."  Observe, 
these  scriptures  do  not  say  there  are  no  ene- 
mies, no  mountains,  no  difficulties.  They 
do  nut  make  the  salvation  of  the  church 
that  light  thing  which  some  of  us  make 
it.  On  the  contrary,  they  suppose  it  to  be 
in  itself  a  work  of  the  utmost  difficulty. 
But  then  Christ,  they  tell  us,  is  more  than 
equal  to  it;  he  is  "mighty  to  save  ;"  he 
can  prepare  his  people  for  heaven  and  car- 
ry them  there,  in  spite  of  every  thing;  and 
do  it  without  an  effort,  with  composure, 
with  as  much  ease  as  though  the  world 
aided  instead  of  opposed  him,  and  the 
powers  of  hell  had  no  existence.  "  There 
is  the  mountain,"  the  text  says,  "  and  it  is 
a  great  one  ;  you  cannot  remove  it  nor 
cross  it;  but  before  Zerubbabel  it  is  a  plain:" 

And  here  in  truth,  brethren,  lies  one  of 
the  hardest  lessons  we  have  to  learn  in 
practical  Christianity — to  see  the  difficul- 
ties of  salvation,  and  not  be  discouraged  by 
them  ;  to  see  the  hills  before  us  and  around 
us,  and  yet  to  feel  sure  that  the  Lord  will 
carry  us  over  them.  It  is  an  easy  thing  to 
treat  these  obstructions  as  visionary  and 
say,  "  I  do  not  heed  them  ;"  but  to  believe 
them  to  be  real  and  feel  them  to  be  real, 
and  yet  to  say,  "  Notwithstanding  them,  I 
shall  be  at  last  in  heaven" — this  is  not 
easy.  This  is  one  of  the  triumphs  of  faith. 
It  is  like  saying,  "  I  have  rivers  to  pass 
through,  but  they  shall  not  overflow  me  ;  I 
have  fire  to  walk  through,  but  the  fire  shall 
not  burn  me."  And  who  can  say  this? 
None  but  the  man  who  has  his  Redeemer's 
omniptjtonce  in  his  sight,  and  has  learned 
to  trust  him. 

111.  We  come  now  to  another  part  of  our 
subject — the  means  wherchy  the  Lord  Jesus 
carries  on  his  great  i9orlc. 


This  work,  you  remember,  is  the  salva- 
tion of  his  church,  I'epresented  to  us  here 
under  the  image  of  building  a  temple.  It 
is  intimated  that  notwithstanding  all  oppo- 
sition, he  will  in  the  end  completely  accom- 
plish this.  The  top-stone  is  to  be  brought 
forth  by  him  and  put  on — a  clear  proof 
that  every  other  stone  is  in  its  place  ;  that 
no  one  soul  is  left  out  of  heaven,  which 
God  has  set  apart  to  enjoy  and  praise  him 
there.  Our  object  now  must  be  to  ascer- 
tain  by  what  means  our  Lord  will  effect  this. 

We  can  tell  at  once  how  he  has  accom- 
plished a  part  of  it.  "  He  was  wounded 
for  our  transgressions  ;  he  was  bruised  for 
our  iniquities  ;"  "  he  bare  our  sins  in  his 
own  body  on  the  tree  ;"  "  he  died  the  just 
for  the  unjust" — that  explains  the  way  in 
which  he  brings  us  to  God.  But  the  ques- 
tion is,  how  does  he  prepare  us  for  God  ?  - 
how  does  he  fit  us  for  the  heaven  he  has 
thus  wonderfully  opened  to  us  ? 

The  text  telfs  us  that  he  first  throw.s 
from  him  all  mighty  instruments,  all  pow- 
erful weapons,  every  thing  in  fact  that 
seems  necessary  for  the  carrying  on  of  his 
design.  Here  is  an  immense  work  to  be 
performed,  and  performed  amidst  immense 
difficulties  ;  requiring,  we  should  have  sup- 
posed, all  the  aid  and  strength  for  its  per- 
formance, which  could  possibly  be- brought 
to  bear  on  it.  "  I  will  employ  none,"  says 
Christ,  "  no  powerful  weapons,  nothing 
which  you  deem  needful."  "  Not  by 
might,  nor  by  power,"  he  says.  He  strips 
himself  bare. 

And  here  is  greatness,  brethren.  We 
petty  creatures,  if  we  set  about  any  thing, 
are  obliged  to  call  in  to  our  aid  number- 
less instruments.  We  are  obliged  to  sum- 
mon our  fellow. creatures  to  help  us  ;  to 
combine  together,  and  put  forth  all  our 
united  powers,  to  effect  our  purpose.  We 
can  do  scarcely  any  thing  without  assist- 
ance, and  are  generally  glad  of  assistance, 
let  it  come  from  what  quarter  it  may.  But 
not  so  Christ.  "In  saving  my  church," 
he  sa-ys,  "  I  will  work  alone.  1  ask  for  no 
aid  or  helper.  It  suits  not  my  greatness  to 
work  as  you  work,  to  make  use  of  earthly 
might  and  power.  I  will  work  against  earth- 
ly might  and  j)ovver.  I  will  save  my  church 
with  "all  the  strength  of  the  world  against 
me.  I,  even  I  alone,  will  build  the  temple 
of  the  Lord,  and  I  will  build  it  so,  that  1 
and  I  alone  shall  bear  the  glory." 

And  so  it  has  been.      Christianity  ha* 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD  BUILT  AMIDST  DIFFICULTIES. 


271 


been  established  in   the  world  without  the  !  what  is  the  moaninir  of  all  this  ?     We  see 


world's  aid,  by  means  which  have  seemed 
most  unlikely  to  establish  it.  Its  very  exist- 
ence in  the  world  at  this  moment  is  one  of 
the  greatest  moral  wonders  the  world  ever 
saw.  And  liow  has  it  been  established  in 
the  hearts  of  some  of  you,  in  every  heart 
where  it  really  exists  ?  In  a  way  just  as 
wonderful.  No  human  hand  ever  put  it 
there,  or  keeps  it  there  now.  You  "  were 
born,  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the 
flesli,  nor  of  the  will  of  man."  You  did 
not  make  yourselves  the  children  of  God, 
nor  do  vou  keep  yourselves  his  children. 
You  arc  as  sure  as  experience  can  make 
you,  that  all  the  world  could  of  itself  do 
nothing  for  you  ;  nay,  that  you  must  be 
saved,  if  you  are  saved  at  all,  in  opposition 
to  the  world  rather  than  by  it. 

And  let  us  try,  brethren,  to  act  on  this. 
We  cannot  do  so  without  continual  effort. 
■^V^e  are  so  accustomed  to  employ  power 
ami  might,  earthly  means  and  carnal 
weapons,  and  to  see  them  employed  by 
others,  that  we  can  hardly  believe  any  thing 
can  be  done  without  them,  we  are  almost 
afniid  to  let  them  alone.     But  it  is  a  main 


the  prophet,  in  the  iburtii  verse,  a.-;king  for 
an  explanation  of  it ;  and  the  first  part  of 
the  text  before  us  is  that  explanation. 
"  This  is  the  word  of  the  Lord,"  says  the 
angel  unto  him  ;  "  Not  by  might,  nor  by 
power,  but  by  my  Spirit."  "  You  see," 
he  says,  "  those  lights.  No  help  of  man 
is  needed  to  keep  them  burning.  No  one 
takes  to  them  their  oil,  or  gives  them  their 
brightness.  The  olive-trees  do  all  for  them. 
As  long  as  they  stand  near  the  lamp  and 
drop  their  oil  into  the  bowl  of  it,  that  lamp 
will  shine  on  unaided.  So  with  my  church, 
saith  the  Lord  of  hosts.  It  needs  not  man's 
arm  to  save  it.  I  may  make  use  of  man 
in  saving  it,  but  look  there — I  do  not  need 
him.  My  Spirit  alone  can  accomplish  all 
my  pleasure.  I  can  build  my  temple  in 
your  desolate  city,  just  as  I  brought  your 
tbrefathers  out  of  Egypt — by  my  own  right 
hand  and  by  my  holy  arm  ;  just  as  I  have 
now  brought  you  out  of  Babylon^by  my 
secret  influence  on  the  minds  of  men.  I 
will  build  my  glorious  temple  in  my  own 
glorious  kingdom,  not  as  you  anticipate, 
by  a  visible  putting  forth  of  power  and 
part  of  true  godliness  to   rise  above  this  j  might,  but  by  pouring  secretly  out  on  that 


natural  feeling  ;  to  form  a  true  estimate 
oJ  human  power  and  policy,  human  means 
and  instruments  ;  if  not  to  make  light  of 
them,  to  feel  that  God  can  do  without  them, 
to  distrust  them.  And  we  cannot  carry 
this  too  far.  We  shall  never  carry  it  far 
enough  till  we  have  "  no  confidence  in  the 
flesh  ;"  till  we  make  the  creature  nothing, 
and  Christ  "  all  in  all." 

But  we  are  .still  without  an  answer  to 
our  question.  The  text  however  supplies 
one.  It  says  that  the  Lord  Jesus  fits  us 
for  heaven  by  means  of  his  Spirit.  "  Not 
by  might,  nor  by  power,  but  by  my  Spirit, 
saith  the  Lord  of  hosts." 

And  if  we  look  Iiack  to  the  beginning  of 
this  chapter,  we  shall  find  the  same  truth 
taught  us  in  an  emblematical  manner,  by 
means  of  what  we  call  a  vision.  A  golden 
lamp,  l)urning  with. .seven  lights,  is  .set  be- 
fore the  prophet.  Attached  to  it  is  a  bowl 
containing  oil.  From  this  bowl  seven  pipes 
go  forth,  carrying  a  supply  of  oil  to  the 
seven   lights.     On  two  sides  of  the  bowl  is 


rebellious  world  my  grace  and  Spirit." 

Observe  then  here  how  jealous  God  is 
for  the  honor  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  is 
not  speaking  of  him,  nor  aiming  to  set  forth 
his  glory.  He  is  speaking,  as  we  see  in 
the  preceding  chapter,  of  his  servant,  "  the 
Branch."  Ilis  object  is  to  hold  Christ  forth 
to  us  as  the  Author  of  our  salvation,  and  to 
give  him  the  glory  of  it.  And  yet  care  is 
taken  to  bring  the  Holy  Spirit  to  our  minds. 
The  work  is  traced  to  him  as  much  as  to 
the  Lord  Jesus  himself.  "  He,"  says  God, 
"  mj  well  beloved  Son,  shall  build  my  tem- 
pie;"  bu'  how?  "By  my  Spirit."  saith 
the  Lord  rrt  hosts.  And  so,  brethren,  there 
is  a  blessed  union  and  combination  of  the 
whole  Godhead  in  our  salvation.  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  all  concur  in  it.  God 
in  his  whole  nature,  God  in  every  charac- 
ter  he  sustains,  is  well  pleased  with  it,  is 
employed  in  it,  is  determined  to  be  known 
and  recognised  as  contril)uting  towards  it. 
In  looking  therefore  to  the  Lord  .Tesus  as 
our  Sanctilier,  we  must  not  overlook  the 


an  olive-tree,  the  tree  that  in  eastern  coun- 1  Holy  Spirit.   He  sanctifies  us  by  this  Spirit ; 

and  thus  it  is  that  the  Spirit  becomes  need- 
ful for  our  salvation,  as  needful  as  Christ 
himself.  Without  him  no  flesh  living  can 
be  saved.     The  lamp  in  the  vision  burnn 


tries   produces   oil;    and,    in   the   twelfth 

verse,  you  will  fit  d  that  these  two  olive- 

ind  keep  pouring 

"low 


trees  overhang  the  bowl, 

out  oil  from  their  branches  into  it. 


272 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  GOD  BUILT  AMIDST  DIFFICULTIES. 


without  the  aid  of  man,  but  why  ?  Because 
the  olive-trees  are  dropping  their  oil  into  it. 
Take  those  trees  away,  or  cut  off  its  con- 
nection with  them,  the  lamp  goes  out.  So, 
whhout  the  Spirit,  what  is  man  ?  What  is 
the  Church?  It  is  <l  lamp  that  will  not 
burn  ;  it  is  a  useless  thing.  It  may  b<' 
gilded,  it  may  be  of  a  beautiful  form  and 
workmanship,  but  it  does  not  answer  its 
intended  purpose,  the  end  is  lost  for  which 
it  was  formed,  and  it  shall  be  thrown  aside. 
"  Reprobate  silver  shall  men  call  it,  because 
the  Lord  hath  rejected  it."  O  brethren, 
pray  for  the  Spirit.  It  is  not  your  comfort 
only,  that  depends  on  your  having  it,  you 
will  lose  heaven  without  it.  The  fellowship 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  as  needful  for  you  as 
the  love  of  God  or  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 

IV.  We  have  vet  one  thing  more  to  no- 
tice in  the  text — the  rffeci.  which  will  he  'pro- 
duced by  the  cowpleiion  of  Christ's  work. 

God's  present  dealings  with  our  world 
will  not  go  on  forever.  There  is  a  day 
coming  when  all  his  purposes  of  mercy 
towards  it  will  be  accomplished.  The  last 
sinner  that  he  means  to  take  from  it  to 
heaven,  will  be  taken,  and  the  Redeenier's 
work  in  it  will  be  finished. 

The  completion  of  this  work  the  text 
speaks  of  under  the  figure  of  bringing 
forth  and  putting  on  the  top  or  head-stone 
of  a  building.  This,  in  eastern  counti'ies, 
was  generally  done  with  much  ceremony 
and  in  the  presence  of  many  beholders. 
Imagine  then  a  building  before  you,  which 
has  been  going  on  century  after  century, 
with  numberless  spectators  gazing  on  it, 
and  all  taking  the  deepest  interest  in  it  ; 
all  glowing  with  love  towarrls  him  who  is 
the  builder  of  it,  sharing  as  far  as  ihey  can 
his  labor,  admiring  his  work,  entering  into 
its  design,  and  longing  with  all  the  powers 
of  their  souls  for  its  completion.  Conceive 
the  moment  at  last  come.  That  must 
have  been  an  hour  of  wonderful  joy  to  the 
Saviour,  when,  bowing  his  head  on  the 
cross,  he  said,  "  It  is  finished  ;"  but  think 
of  the  hour  when  he  shall  bring  into  heaven 
the  last  of  his  redeemed,  and  say,  "  It  is 
finished  ;"  when  he  shall  pass  through  the 
hosts  of  his  angels,  and  stand  on  the  sum- 
mit of  his  glorious  temple,  and  put  on  the 
last  stone  of  it,  and  say,  "  I  have  done." 
The  text  however  speaks  not  of  his  joy  ; 
it  speaks  rather  of  the  joy  of  the  be- 
holders.    I  say  "  the  joy,"  for  though  the 


shoutings  described  in  it  may  be  consider, 
ed  as  tiie  burstings  forth  of  admiration  and 
praise,  and  doubtless  are  such,  yet  joy 
seems  to  be  the  strongest  frelinf  expressed 
in  them.  "  The  sons  of  God,"  we  are 
told,  "  shouted  for  joy"  at  the  creation  of 
our  world.  Ezra  tells  us  that  the  people 
"  shouted  aloud  for  joy"  wl;en  the  builders 
laid  the  foundation  of  the  temple  of  the 
Lord  at  Jerusalem.  "  They  shall  rf  joice," 
says  the  prophet  in  tliis  chMpter.  "  as  they 
see  the  plummet  in  the  hand  of  Zerubba- 
bel."  The  progress  of  the  building  shall 
give  them  pleasure  ;  what  then  its  comple- 
tion ?  If  there  were  songs  among  the  an- 
gels when  the  Lord  first  entered  the  world 
in  a  lowly  disguise  to  save  his  church  in  it, 
how  will  they  sing  when  its  salvation  is 
accomplished  ?  If  there  is  joy  now  in 
heaven  over  a  sinner  that  repenteth,  over 
one  poor  child  of  the  dust  shedding  the  tear 
of  bitternfss  in  humiliation  and  pollution, 
O  what  will  be  the  joy  in  heaven  over  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  sinners,  raised 
far  above  all  pollution  and  hun)iliation, 
standing  befo;-e  the  very  throne  of  Jehovah, 
with  not  a  sin  left  among  them  all,  nor  a 
stain  nor  a  tear  ?  And  those  sinners  them- 
selves— what  must  they  feel  and  what 
must  they  say  ?  There  are  moments, 
brethren,  when  even  on  earth  we  do  not 
know  what  to  feel  or  say.  Our  sense  of 
God's  mercy  towards  us  is  so  great,  that  it 
well  nigh  overpowers  us.  All  that  comes 
from  us  is  some  abrupt  exclamation  of  joy 
and  praise,  and  that  repeated  again  and 
again.  The  text  says  that  something  like 
this  shall  take  place  in  heaven.  Our 
songs  there,  it  intimates,  will  be  no  cold, 
artificial  praises.  They  will  come  gush- 
ing out  from  hearts  that  are  overflowing. 
They  will  be  "  shoutings,"  shoutings  of 
"  Grace,  grace."  Now  and  then  for  a 
moment  wisdom  and  power  may  be  our 
song  as  they  were  on  earth,  but  this  will 
not  last  long  ;  we  shall  feel  that  we  owe 
more  to  grace  than  to  any  thing  else,  and 
all  the  splendor,  and  happiness,  and  em- 
ployments of  heaven  will  not  keep  grace 
from  our  thoughts.  It  was  of  goodness 
and  mercy  that  the  Jews  sang,  when  they 
shouted  for  joy  at  tlie  foundation  of  their 
temple ;  it  will  be  of  the  same  mercy, 
that  we  shall  sing  when  we  sing  in  heav- 
en. 

With  such  a  prospect   before  ns,   well 
may  we  ask  with  this  prophet,  ••  Who  hath 


THE  DUTY  OF  PLEASING  GOD. 


273 


despised  the  day  of  small  tliinfrs  ?"  It 
will  end.  brethren,  in  this  glorious  day  of 
great  things.  The  beginnings  of  grace 
now  in  your  hearts,  some  of  them  so  slight 
and  others  so  painful,  shall  end  in  this  per- 
fection of  grace.  From  your  lips  shall 
one  day  burst  forth  this  r.xulting  song. 
Even  you  shall  see  this  top-stone  laid,  and 
you  shall  shout  with  angels  and  archan- 
gels, "  Grace,  grace  unto  it."  Fear  nei- 
ther for  yourselves,  this  text  says  to  you, 
nor  for  the  church  of  God.  With  those 
mountains  before  you,  well  might  you  fear 
for  yourselves  were  you  left  to  your  own 
power  and  wisdom,  but  you  are  not  left  in 
any  way  to  yourselves.  No  power  or  wis- 
dom of  yours  is  needed  for  your  salvation. 
It  is  the  power  of  Christ,  that  is  to  keep 
you  ;  it  is  the  power  of  Christ,  that  is  to 
save  you  ;  it  is  before  him  those  mountains 
are  to  become  a  plain.  Christ  and  his 
grace  are  to  bo  your  song  in  heaven,  and 
why  ?  J?ecause  Christ  and  his  grace  are 
now  your  strengthen  earth.  Regard  them 
as  your  strength.  Try  to  feel  like  men 
who  have  a  mercy  that  is  boundless,  to 
hope  in  ;  and  an  arm  that  is  omnipotent,  to 
sustain  and  preserve  them. 

And  as  for  the  church  of  God,  let  us 
learn,  brethren,  to  be  ashamed  of  our  fears 
concerning  it.  We  grieve  perhaps  at  the 
indifference  towards  it  we  see  in  many 
around  us,  we  grieve  still  more  at  the 
enmity  the  world  is  everywhere  manifest- 
ing to  it  ;  and  we  should  not  have  Chris- 
tian hearts,  if  we  did  not  grieve  over  these 
things  ;  but  of  what  moment  are  they  ? 
To  the  men  who  indulge  them,  of  fearful 
moment  ;  this  enmity  and  this  indifference 
must  be  answered  for;  but  to  C'hrist  they 
are  of  no  moment  at  all.  Were  they 
multiplied  tenfold,  they  could  not  stop,  or 
hinder,  or  trouble  him  for  a  moment  in  the 
great  work  he  is  carrying  on.  lie  would 
still  go  on  building  his  church  in  majesty 
and  might.  All  they  can  do  is  to  make 
his  might  the  more  conspicuous,  and  his 
majesty  thf  more  glorious.  Churches  in- 
deed have  fallen,  some  crumbled  down  by 
thecorruptions  and  indifference  within  them- 
selves, and  some  thrown  down  by  the  vio- 
lence of  their  enemies.  Other  churches 
may  fall,  and  our  own  church  among  them  ; 
yes,  even  our  Zion  may  at  last  be  a  wil- 
derness, and  our  Jerusalem  a  desolation  ; 
our  holy  and  our  beautiful  houses  where 
our  lathers  and  we  have  praised  God,  may 
35 


be  burnt  up  with  fire,  and  all  our  pleasant 
things  may  be  laid  waste  ;  l)ut  wh;it  tiien? 
The  church  of  Christ  shall  sliil  stand  fast. 
The  glory  of  England  will  be  gone,  but 
not  the  glory  of  the  everlasting  Saviour. 
As  we  stand  contemplating  the  ruins 
around  us  and  are  ready  to  think  the 
cause  of  Christ  buried  beneath  them  ;  as 
devils  in  hell  are  triumphing,  and  wicked 
men  on  earth  are  rejoicing,  and  angels  in 
heaven  are  wondering,  there  will  still  sit 
the  great  King  serene  in  his  majesty,  and 
his  command  to  us  will  be  to  be  serene 
too  ;  "  Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God. 
I  will  be  exalted  among  the  healhen,  I 
will  be  exalted  in  the  earth."  He  will 
point  to  his  church  in  heaven  shining 
brightly  as  before,  and  while  he  lays  stone 
on  stone  on  its  glorious  walls,  he  will  once 
more  sav  to  us,  "  My  hands  have  laid  the 
foundation  of  this  house ;  my  hands  shall 
also  finish  it." 


SERMON  LVII. 

THE  TWENTY-THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER    TRINITY. 

THE  DUTY  OF  PLEASING  GOD. 

Hebrews  ii.  5. — "  Before  his  translation  he  had 
this  testimony,  that  he  pleased  God." 

This  is  said  of  Enoch.  It  is  not  my 
intention  however  to  consider  the  words 
with  any  particular  reference  to  him  and 
his  wonderful .  translation,  but  to  preach 
to  you  as  plain  a  sermon  as  I  can,  on  the 
duty,  or  rather  the  privilege,  of  pleasing 
God — a  simple  subject,  but  the  Lord  of  all 
power  and  grace  can  make  it  useful  to  us, 
even  to  the  oldest  and  the  wisest. 

Let  us  inquire,  first,  whom  we  are  to 
please  ;  then,  how  we  may  please  him  ; 
and  then,  why  we  should  aim  to  please  him 
rather  than  any  one  else. 

I.  If  we  ask  7chom  we  are  to  please,  rea- 
son, uninstructed  by  revelation  or  experi- 
ence,  would  immediately  say  ourselves,  or 
if  reason  did  not  say  so,  feeling  would. 
We  accordingly  find  that  man,  as  soon  as 
he  begins  to  act,  acts  solely  with  a  view 
to  his  own  gratification.  It  would  never 
enter  his  mind  to  act  otherwise  were  he 
left  alone.     But  then  none  of  us  are  left 


274 


THE  DUTY  OF  PLEASING  GOD. 


alone.  We  are  mixed  up  with  our  fellow- 
men,  and  are  trained  from  our  earliest  in- 
fancy more  or  less  to  please  them.  We 
teach  one  another  this.  The  social  feel- 
ings of  our  nature,  as  they  are  called  forth, 
lead  to  this.  In  the  estimation  of  half  the 
civilized  world,  it  is  the  highest  excellence 
we  can  aim  at,  to  aim  at  tiiis  ;  for  what  is 
the  good-breeding  of  the  world,  its  high 
cultivation  and  polish  ?  It  is  so  to  demean 
ourselves,  as  to  give  no  offence  to  any  one, 
but  pleasure  and  satisfaction  to  all. 

And  these  two  things,  pleasing  ourselves 
and  pleasing  our  fellow-men,  we  contrive 
to  carry  on  together.  They  do  indeed 
clash  at  times,  but  for  the  greater  part  we 
make  them  accord  very  well  one  with  the 
other,  and  indeed  help  forward  each  other. 
We  please  the  world,  and  in  doing  so  we 
please  ourselves,  for  we  gain  sometliing 
thet  we  desire  from  the  world  by  pleasing 
it — if  nothing  more,  its  good  opinion,  its 
favor  and  smiles. 

But  God  conies  in  and  disturbs  all  tl)is. 
*'  Please  me,"  says  self.  "  Please  me," 
says  the  world  ;  and  while  we  are  striving 
to  obey  both,  there  is  a  voice  from  heaven, 
which  says,  "  Neither  must  be  obeyed  : 
you  must  approve  yourselves  to  me." 
There  appears  before  us  a  third  competitor 
for  our  powers  of  pleasing  ;  one  of  whom 
we  never  thought,  and  to  whom  not  a  feel- 
ing or  principle  of  our  nature  inclines  us 
to  listen.  Nay,  every  principle  and  feel- 
ing of  our  nature  disinclines  us  to  listen 
to  him,  and  that  so  strongly,  that  in  our 
natural  state  we  never  please  him,  or 
really  try  to  please  him.  We  talk  about 
it  but  we  never  do  it.  So  perverse  are  we, 
that  we  cannot  do  it.  "  They  that  are  in 
the  flesh,"  says  the  scripture,  "  cannot 
please  God." 

You  see  then,  brethren,  that  we  have  no 
merely  moral,  half-heathen  duty  before  us  ; 
it  is  a  Christian  duty.  It  is  one  which  na- 
ture and  reason  will  never  bring  a  man  to 
practise.  We  mu.st  feel  the  converting  and 
constraining  power  of  the  gospel  of  Christ 
and  the  Spirit  of  Christ  in  order  to  practise 
it.  And  like  every  thing  else  to  which  the 
gospel  gives  birth,  it  is  a  high  thing.  To 
please  any  one  is,  you  are  aware,  to  give 
him  pleasuie;  and  to  please  God  is  to  give 
God  pleasure.  It  is  nothing  less  than  for 
worms  of  the  dust  to  meet  the  wishes  and 
gratify  the  mind  of  the  great  Lord  of  all. 
A.  hiijh  thing  indeed  !  a  stranire,  wonderful 


thing  !  And  how  is  it  to  be  accomplished  1 
This  is  our  next  question. 

II.  We  are  to  inquire  liow  we  are  to 
please  God. 

We  must  begin  ivilh  accepting  the  off  en 
of  his  grace. 

We  know  that  in  order  to  please  a  feU 
low-creature,  we  must  fall  in  with  his  dis- 
position  and  character.  If  he  is  a  man  of 
a  kind  disposition,  we  must  on  no  account 
repulse  his  kindness,  but  yield  ourselves  up 
to  it,  and  let  him  do  us  all  the  good  he  will. 
Now  the  great  God  of  heaven  is  a  God  of 
kindness,  of  infinite  kindness  towards  us. 
There  has  been  enmity  between  him  and 
us,  and  his  love  has  been  as  it  were  driven 
back  and  half  buried  within  his  own  mind; 
but  he  has  provided  a  Mediator  to  make 
peace  between  us,  and  he  sends  us  through 
that  Mediator  offers,  not  of  reconciliation 
only,  but  large  and  magnificent  offers  of 
unspeakably  large  blessings.  He  tells  us 
that  he  is  ready  to  let  his  love  flow  out  to- 
wards us  in  its  utmost  abundance.  "  Here 
is  pardon  for  you,"  he  says ;  "  here  is 
peace  ;  here  is  my  love  for  you,  my  pre- 
sence, my  likeness,  my  joy,  my  kingdom. 
Look  through  my  universe — there  is  every 
thing  for  you,  that  is  worth  your  having," 
Now  to  please  him  is  to  accept  these  offers. 
It  is  to  let  him  see  that  we  value  his  kind- 
ness and  care  for  his  blessings.  It  is  to  in- 
dulge God,  if  I  may  so  speak,  in  the  highest 
joy  of  his  soul  ;  to  become  willing  objects 
for  the  exercise  of  his  dearest  attribute. 
"  He  delightetl)  in  mercy."  To  please  him 
is  to  come  within  the  range  of  his  mercy  ; 
to  lie  down  before  him  and  say,  "Lord, 
thou  shalt  be  as  gracious  to  me  as  thou 
wilt." 

Again — to  please  God,  we  wusl  conform 
ourselves  to  his  mind  and  xcill.  This  is 
clear.  No  one  can  be  pleased  with  us,  if 
we  are  continually  differing  with  him  and 
quarrelling  with  all  he  says  and  does.  To 
please  a  father,  his  children  must  fall  in 
with  his  plans  for  them  and  his  ways  ;  and 
to  please  a  master,  his  servants  must  follow 
his  commands.  So,  to  please  God,  we  must 
accommodate  ourselves  to  God  ;  we  must 
become  like-minded  with  him.  And  this 
will  show  itself  by  our  ceasing  to  be  angry 
and  discontented  witli  his  dealings  with  us  ; 
and  still  more  clearly  by  our  efforts  to  do 
his  will.  He  pleases  God  the  most,  who, 
after  reconciliation  with  him,  places  him- 
self the  most  entirely  in  God's  hands,  and 


THE  DUTY  OF  PLEASING  GOD. 


275 


lies  the  most  quiet  there  ;  and  he  too,  who 
strives  the  most  after  the  holiness  which 
God  loves  ;  it  is  the  prodigal,  who,  after 
he  gets  into  his  Father's  liouse,  not  only 
eats  of  his  Father's  feast  and  wears  the 
robe  his  Father  has  put  on  him,  but  says 
the  most  sincerely  and  readily,  "  Father, 
what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?  Give  me 
any  work  or  any  command  thou  pleasest,  I 
am  ready  to  do  it.  It  will  delight  me  to  do 
it.  The  lowest  office  in  thy  house  is  too 
good  lor  one  like  me.  I  had  rather  liavc  it 
than  the  highest  in  any  other."' 

Pleasing  God,  this  apostle  tells  us,  is  the 
same  as  walking  with  God  ;  for  this  text  is 
his  interpretation  of  the  Spirit's  testimony 
concerning  Enoch,  that  he  "walked"  with 
him  ;  and  to  walk  with  God,  we  must  go 
the  same  way  with  him,  and  be  of  the  same 
mind.  The  whole  cour.se  of  our  life  must 
move  in  a  blessed  harmony  with  his  mind 
and  will.  There  must  be  what  this  same 
apo.stle  calls  "  a  walking  worthy  of  the 
Lord  unto  all  pleasing,"  a  walking  suita- 
bly to  him  ;  in  such  a  way  as  he  himself 
would  walk,  could  he  be  in  such  a  situa- 
tion as  ours. 

But  further — to  please  God  loe  must  aim 
to  please  him  supremely,  far  above  all. 

I  began,  you  remember,  with  saying  that 
naturally  we  seek  to  please  ourselves. 
This  is  altogether  evil,  and  we  must  alto- 
gether cease  from  it;  but  that  pleasing  of 
our  fellow-men  into  which  we  next  fall, 
is  not  to  be  entirely  cast  aside.  God's  crea- 
tures are  formed  to  receive  pleasure  one 
from  another,  and  to  communicate  pleasure 
one  to  another.  It  is  doubtless  so  in  heav- 
en, and  it  ought  to  be  so  on  earth.  This 
very  apostle  says,  "  Let  every  one  please 
his  neighbor."  "  As  for  me,"  he  says 
again,  "  I  please  all  men  in  all  things." 

Pleasing  others  then,  we  see,  is  not  in  it- 
•self  wrong;  but  it  may  become  wrong, 
and  in  these  two  ways — we  may  seek  to 
please  men  more  than  God  ;  this  is  giving 
the  creature  God's  place,  setting  him  up 
above  (lod  ;  and  we  may  seek  to  please 
men  by  falling  in  with  their  evil  desires 
and  ways  ;  and  this  is  taking  part  with  the 
creature  against  God.  The  question  is 
easily  settled.  Do  I  want  to  know  when 
[  may  please  my  fellow-men  ?  The  an- 
swer is,  Always,  when  in  so  doing  I  dis- 
please myself  only  ;  never,  when  in  so  do- 
ing I  offend  God.  The  worst  is,  we  can 
seldom  please  men  without  offending  God. 


The  world  is  an  evil  world,  at  enmity  with 
its  great  Creator,  and  it  will  not  be  long  on 
good  terms  with  us,  unless  we  too  take  up 
arms  and  join  it  in  its  enmity.  Hence  to 
please  God,  we  must  in  most  cases  put  the 
world  underneath  our  feet  and  cast  aside 
all  hope  of  pleasing  it.  We  must  act  from 
a  higher  principle  than  a  desire  of  pleasing 
it.  Our  first,' supreme  desire  must  be  to 
approve  ourselves  in  God's  sight.  This 
same  apostle  who  could  become  "  all  things 
to  all  men,"  bend  down  to  them  and  gratify 
them  to  the  very  utmost  when  only  he  and 
they  came  into  competition,  his  pleasure 
and  their  pleasure — what  does  he  say  and 
how  does  he  act  when  they  and  God  come 
into  competition?  "Do  I  seek  to  please 
men  ?"  he  says.  "  No  ;  for  if  I  yet  pleased 
men,  I  should  not  be  the  servant  of  Christ. 
The  thing  is  impossible.  No  man  can  be 
the  servant  of  so  high  and  holy  a  Master, 
and  yet  the  willing  slave  of  so  low  and  sin- 
ful a  world."  And  as  for  his  conduct,  to 
see  what  that  was,  look  not  at  him  as  he 
went  about  among  the  Jews  and  the  hea- 
then, exposing  himself  willingly  to  their 
hatred  and  violence ;  follow  him  into  the 
church  of  Christ,  look  at  him  among  his 
fellow-disciples  and  apostles.  Less  in  his 
own  estimation  than  the  lea.st  of  them,  he 
withstood  the  highest  among  them  when 
they  forgot  what  they  owed  their  Lord  ; 
he  would  not  give  place,  no,  not  for  an  hour, 
to  any  of  them,  when  they  wanted  to  exalt 
any  thing  above  Christ.  In  all  that  con- 
cerned his  Master's  honor  he  was  as  un- 
bending, as  he  was  yielding  in  every  thing 
that  concerned  his  own. 

The  Christian's  situation  among  his  fel- 
low-men is  indeed  a  painful  one.  The 
grace  of  (}od  within  him  strengthens  his 
love  for  them  and  his  desire  of  gratifying 
them  ;  it  makes  it  a  sore  trial  to  him  to 
give  them  pain;  he  could  well  nigh  lay 
down  his  very  life  to  please  them  ;  but 
please  them  ho  cannot  and  dares  not ;  his 
God  comes  in  the  way.  This  will  be  alter- 
ed in  heaven.  There  is  no  variance  be- 
tween God  and  any  of  his  creatures  there. 
Our  social  feelings  may  have  their  full 
ffow.  We  may  please  all  around  us  to  the 
extent  of  their  desire,  and  yet  at  the  same 
time  the  great  Lord  of  all  be  pleased. 

III.  Let  us  come  now  to  our  third  ques- 
tion— why  we  should  thus  seek  to  please  God 
rather  than  any  one  else. 

1.   It  is  easier  lo  please  him. 


276 


THE  DUTY  OF  PLEASING  GOD. 


This  may  seem  strange.  In  general  the 
more  exalted  any  being  is,  the  more  diffi- 
cult it  is  to  give  him  pleasure  :  but  not  so 
in  this  case.  God,  the  highest  of  all  beings, 
is  at  the  same  time  so  much  aiiove  all  be- 
ings in  lii\o  and  graciousness,  that  his 
heart  is  ui  >re  open  than  any  heart.  The 
way  to  it  is  easier  than  to  any  other.  Only 
let  us  once  accept  the  ofiers  of  love  he  has 
made  us  in  liis  Son,  and  we,  worms  of  the 
dust,  can  please  him  ;  any  thing  that  we 
offer  to  him,  will  be  acceptable  in  his  sight; 
the  mere  desire  to  please  him  will  give  him 
pleasure.  Does  this  need  explanation  ? 
You  who  are  parents,  can  explain  it.  Is  it 
difficult  for  a  cliild  to  put  pleasure  into  a 
father's  heart  ?  Docs  a  n)other  require 
much  from  her  infant  to  afford  her  delight  ? 
But  what  is  a  father's  or  a  mother's  love  to 
the  love  of  the  great  God  for  us  ?  As  a 
shadow  to  a  substance.  His  mighty  love 
for  us  then  makes  it  easy  for  us  to  please  him. 

But  turn  to  the  worhl.  It  is  hard  work 
to  please  that.  What  a  multitude  there  is 
in  it  to  gratify  !  and  a  multitude  of  different 
minds  and  humors ;  every  one  wanting  to 
be  gratified  in  his  own  way  and  at  all  costs, 
regarding  you  as  just  nothing  hut  the  mere 
instrument  of  his  pleasure,  and  never  car- 
ing or  thinking  that  there  are  others  who 
want  to  make  you  their  instrument  also. 
We  may  sacrifice  ourselves  on  the  world's 
altar,  but,  alas  !  we  shall  gain  nothing ; 
the  greater  part  of  the  world  will  be  angry 
because  the  sacrifice  has  not  been  made  for 
them  only,  or  as  they  would  have  it  made. 

And  then  what  a  weathercock  is  the 
mind  of  man !  Flow  light  and  mutable  ! 
What  pleases  him  to-day,  he  is  tired  of  to- 
morrow, and  offended  with  the  day  afier. 
The  same  people  who  followed  our  Lord 
witii  hosannas,  were  soon  afterwards  cry- 
ing, "  Away  with  him  :  crucify  him."  The 
Galatians  loved  Paul  ;  they  would,  if  pos- 
sible, have  plucked  out  their  own  eyes  and 
given  them  unto  him;  but  wait  a  little — 
they  prefer  now  to  that  noble  apostle  any 
low-minded  pretender  who  will  flatter  and 
court  tlieu).  Tiie  truth  is,  half  the  men 
we  mix  with  are  mere  children  in  their 
likings  and  dislikings.  They  will  long 
for  a  thing  and  clamor  for  a  thing  till 
they  get  it,  and  then  after  a  little  cast  it 
away,  and  clamor  for  something  else. 
Weary  indeed  will  he  soon  he,  who  has 
such  children  to  ])lease.  But  look  u[)wanl. 
He  who  seeks  to  please  God,  has  only  one 


to  please,  one  instead  of  multitudes  ;  ana 
he  one  who  is  considerate  and  merciful, 
and  never  requires  us  to  hurt  ourselves 
in  order  to  please  him,  and  is  always  of 
one  mind.  That  which  pleases  him  once, 
will  please  him  forever.  If  he  delights  in 
us  now,  he  will  delight  in  us  always.  The 
mind  of  God,  like  God  himself,  is  un- 
changeable, "without  variableness  or  sna- 
dow  of  turning." 

2.  It  is  better  to  please  God  than  any  one 
else,  more  for  our  advantage. 

Think  how  little  man  can  do  for  us,  even 
if  he  is  disposed  and  continues  so,  to  do  his 
best.  Our  greatest  sorrows  he  can  do  little 
indeed  to  lighten,  and  our  heaviest  wants  he 
can  do  nothing  at  all  to  supply.  We  cling 
to  him  as  though  he  were  all  in  all  to  us  ; 
an  hour  will  come  when  we  shall  feel  him 
to  be  a  shadow.  Look  at  man,  brethren, 
when  you  are  endeavoring  to  please  him, 
and  ask  yourselves  what  he  is.  Fie  is  only 
bi'cathing  dust,  and  will  soon  be  as  unable 
to  help  you,  to  delight  or  offend  you,  as  the 
sand  which  the  winds  of  yesterday  swept 
from  your  path.  FFe  will  be  gone  you  know 
not  whither. 

But  think  what  God  is.  Fie  is  that  God 
who  made  heaven  and  eartii,  and  who  could 
in  a  moment  unmake  them,  bring  tliem  all 
into  nothing  again.  Fie  governs  all  things. 
He  has  the  wliole  world  and  all  that  it  con- 
tains, at  his  disposal,  life  and  death,  heaven 
and  hell.  FFe  can  give  us  whatsoever  he 
will  and  withhold  from  us  whatsoever  he 
will.  If  he  says  to  us,  "  Be  blessed,"  bless- 
ed we  shall  be,  though  millions  were  to 
labor  to  make  us  wretched  ;  if  he  says  to 
us,  "  Be  cursed,"  the  whole  universe  could 
not  take  that  curse  off  us,  nor  bring  us  from 
that  hour  one  moment's  happiness.  And 
think  what  this  God  is  to  you.  He  is  the 
God  of  all  your  mercies.  You  live  in  him 
and  move  in  him.  He  has  done  more  for 
you  already  than  was  ever  done  for  angels 
in  heaven,  and  he  is  able  and  willing  to  do 
more.  And  recollect  too  what  he  will  be 
to  you  soon.  He  is  coming  in  the  clouds 
of  heaven  to  be  your  Judge.  It  will  rest 
with  him  to  send  you  to  everlasting  misery, 
or  take  you  to  everlasting  happiness.  We 
know  not  what  it  is  to  please  this  great 
God,  or  what  to  displease  him.  "  Who 
knoweth  the  power  of  his  wrath  ?"  Who 
knows  the  might  of  his  love  ?  You  know 
something  of  l)oth,  who  liave  felt  yourselves 
sinners  and  have  really  Ibund  his  mercy. 


THE  DUTY  OF  PLEASING  GOD. 


277 


You  know,  in  some  measure,  how  miserable 
God  can  inake  a  man  and  how  happy. 
"  In  his  favor,"  you  feel,  "  is  life  ;"  in  his 
displeasure  you  have  felt  there  is  death. 
And  all  this  bids  you  seek  to  please  him. 
It  reasons  with  you  as  Christ  reasoned  with 
tiie  Jews.  If  they  were  to  fear  God  rather 
than  men,  because  he  could  inflict  on  them 
so  much  fjrcater  destruction  ;  so  you  are 
to  please  God  rather  than  men,  because  he 
can  confer  on  you  so  much  greater  blessed- 
ness. The  utmost  man  can  give  you,  you 
will  soon  call  nothing  ;  God  can  give  you 
all  things,  and  is  willing  to  give  them. 

3.  h  is  more  ennobling  to  please  God  than 
to  please  any  one  else.  The  eilbrt  to  please 
hiin  elevates  the  soul ;  seeking  to  please 
others  debases  it. 

Would  you  raise  the  minds  of  your  chil- 
dren, you  place  them  with  persons  of  noble 
minds,  and  keep  them  as  far  as  you  can 
fron)  the  low  and  mean.  Would  you  tell 
a  painter  or  a  mechanic  how  to  rise  to  emi- 
nence in  his  art,  you  bid  him  turn  away 
from  all  inferior  models  and  study  and  imi- 
tate the  very  highest.  So  it  is  in  this  case. 
Studying  the  minds  of  our  fellow-men  only, 
and  bending  our  powers  unceasingly  to  ac- 
commodate ourselves  to  them,  is  to  keep 
our  own  minds  in  the  dust.  It  is  putting 
on  them  the  world's  chain,  and  fastening 
them  down  to  the  world's  level.  But  let 
the  soul  once  look  upward  and  say,  "  I 
must  please  that  lofty  Being  who  is  exalted 
there,  I  must  confjrm  myself  to  his  high 
mind  and  will ;"  the  soul  makes  an  effort 
to  rise  up  from  the  dust,  and  God  blesses 
that  effort,  and  the  soul  does  rise  up,  and  as 
that  effort  goes  on,  it  rises  higher  and  high- 
er. We  become  like  God  by  seeking  to 
please  him.  By  keeping  him  constantly 
before  us,  we  are  changed  into  his  image. 
This  is  not  theory.  I  may  a[ipeal  to  every 
day  facts.  Take  the  poor  cottager  whose 
heart  God  has  touched,  and  taught  to  seek 
his  favor.  Apparently  with  every  thing 
around  him  to  d(  press  him,  there  is  often 
an  elevation  in  that  man's  mind,  which 
constrains  us  to  wondor  at  him.  Me  has 
risen  to  a  loftiness  of  thought  and  feeling, 
which  we  can  scarcely  understand.  And 
it  is  his  piety  alone  which  has  raised  him, 
his  simple  and  earnest  dnsire  to  please  his 
Lord.  And  then  look  at  some  of  the  world's 
great  men,  men  who  live  on  the  world's 
favor  and  applause.  How  low  do  we  fre- 
quently see  them  sink  !     We  marvel  at  the 


littleness  they  betray,  and  pitv  them  for 
their  meanness.  And  iVink  of  tbo  Lord 
Jesus.  What  gave  to  r.is  cbaractfr  its 
mysterious  elevation  ?  It  was  mainly  tliia 
— his  unceasing,  his  soul-consuming  dosire 
and  effort  to  be  well-pleasing  in  his  Father's 
sight. 

4.  Hence  we  may  observe  that  a  su- 
preme desire  to  please  God  conforma  us 
more  than  any  thing  else  to  Christ  our  Lord. 

He  "pleased  not  himself,"  the  scripture 
says.  As  we  read  his  histol'y,  we  never 
suspect  him  of  having  done  so.  It  was  not 
his  own  gratification,  that  brought  him  out 
of  his  Father's  world  and  bosom,  and  kept 
him  in  our  world  ainid  pollution  and  sorrow. 
He  sought  not  his  own  honor  liere,  he  did 
not  his  own  works,  he  would  not  speak  even 
his  own  words.  And  a  careful  reader  of 
his  history  will  never  suspect  him  of  having 
been  a  pleaser  of  men.  Strong  and  tender 
in  liis  love,  showing  kindness  to  all  and  af- 
fection past  understanding  to  some,  he  yet 
seems  to  have  been  always  impelled  by 
some  higher  principle  than  mere  kindness 
or  affection  ;  and  he  himself  tells  us  what 
that  principle  was.  He  points  upward  to 
liis  Father  and  says,  "I  do  always  those 
things  that  please  him."  He  too,  before 
his  glorious  translation,  left  us,  like  Enoch, 
this  testimony  of  himself,  "that  he  pleased 
God." 

Now,  brethren,  there  is  a  blessed  resem- 
blance between  Christ  and  his  people. 
They  have  the  same  spirit  that  he  had,  and 
it  is  their  joy  and  delight  to  have  it.  We 
say  that  it  forms  their  character,  they  feel 
that  it  is  a  main  part  of  their  happiness. 
We  have  only  then  to  place  before  them 
the  conduct  of  their  Lord,  and  they  say  at 
once,  "Let  it  be  ours."  With  others  we 
might  reason  the  matter.  We  might  say, 
If  the  Lord  Jesus  with  his  fioly  mind  would 
not  please  himself,  will  you  do  it  with  such 
a  mind  as  yours  ?  Ilis  love  for  men  was 
intense,  but  it  did  not  master  him.  He  died 
tor  them,  but  he  would  not  seek  to  please 
them.  Will  you  allow  your  poor,  cold 
love  for  them,  or  fear  of  them,  or  expecta^ 
tions  from  them,  to  master  you  ?  to  triumph 
in  your  mind  over  integrity,  and  truth,  and 
worse — over  the  love  and  fear  of  the  living 
God  ?  But  all  this  the  real  Christian  needs 
not;  not,  at  least,  when  in  his  right  mind. 
It  is  enough  for  him  to  see  before  him  hi? 
.Master's  footsteps.  He  has  him  to  f()llf)w, 
and   his  prayer  is,  that  he  may  follow  hiin 


278 


A  DISEASED  WOMAN  HEALED 


with  his  whole  heart  and  soul  ;  it  is  his 
daily  sorrow  that  he  follows  him  at  so  great 
a  distance.  He  hears  him  say,  "  If  any 
tnan  will  come  after  me,  let  hini  deny  him- 
-self" — that  keeps  him  from  seeking  to 
please  his  own  bad  heart ;  and  when  he 
tells  him,  "  He  that  lovetli  father  or  mother 
more  than  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me" — that 
makes  the  man  feel  lie  must  not  seek  to 
please  an  evil  world. 

Bring  now  these  things  together,  and 
must  we  not  each  of  us  say,  O  let  nie 
strive  to  please  God  ?  Besides,  there  is 
the  pleasure  which  flows  into  the  soul  from 
tlie  consciousness  of  pleasing  him.  This  is 
sweet  indeed  to  the  heart  that  loves  him. 
It  is  worth  all  our  self-denial,  and  all  the 
worldly  sacrifices  we  can  make,  to  obtain 
it.  To  be  able  to  look  upward  and  say. 
That  great  God  who  dwells  so  high,  not 
only  looks  on  me  and  loves  me,  but  1, 
through  the  Son  of  his  love,  am  pleasant  in 
Ills  sight  ;  I,  through  his  Spirit  working  in 
me,  can  give  him  pleasure  ;  I,  like  my  holy 
Master,  am  doing,  though  in  much  infirmi- 
ty, those  things  that  please  him  —  this, 
brethren,  is  work  enough  and  almost  joy 
enough  for  any  mortal  man  on  this  side 
heaven.  Is  it  your  work  and  joy?  Per- 
haps till  this  hour  you  have  never  thought 
about  it.  You  have  been  trying  to  please 
yourselves  and  your  fellow-creatures,  but 
it  has  never  once  entered  your  thoughts  to 
please  God.  And  even  now  when  remind- 
ed of  it,  it  seems  to  you  a  strange  thing, 
and  you  will  go  away  and  think  no  more 
of  it.  And  others  around  you  will  do  the 
same.  You  will  seek  to  please  them  and 
they  you.  And  God  will  be  forgotten.  But, 
brethren,  dear  and  beloved,  ought  it  to  be 
thus  ?  Will  God  allow  it  to  be  always 
thus?  Yet  a  little  while,  and  you  that 
have  so  long  sat  and  listened  here  to  things 
like  these,  will  sit  here  no  more.  Those 
seats  will  hav(^  other  hearers  in  them,  and 
this  pulpit  another  preacher.  You  and  I 
shall  have  been  translated  far  away  from 
anv  scene  like  this.  We  shall  be  in  another 
world.  ( )ur  neighbors  die,  our  friends  die, 
and  vou  and  I,  though  we  think  not  of  it, 
shall  soon  die.  And  what  then  is  the  tes- 
timony which  is  to  follow  us  to  the  bar 
of  God  ?  "  VVe  pleased  one  another.  Lord, 
but  not  thee.  We  valued  the  favor  of  our 
fellow. men,  but  not  thine.  We  rejoiced  in 
their  love,  but  as  for  thy  love,  it  was  not 
the  love  we  wanted  ;  we  let  it  go  by."  And 


will  this  do?  Is  this  the  te.stimony  vvhicfc 
you  and  I  would  desire  to  take  with  us  into 
God's  presence  ?  Surely  no.  But  what 
other  have  we  to  take  ?  Alas  !  as  far  as 
regards  some  of  us,  I  cannot  tell,  nor  can 
you.  O  that  even  now  you  would  send  up  a 
prayer  to  God,  that  it  may  not  continue  thus 
with  you  !  O  that  he  would  dethrone  and 
dethrone  forever  self  and  the  world  within 
us,  and  enthrone  himself  in  their  stead  ! 
Better  to  have  this  testimony  in  a  dying 
hour,  that  the  Lord  taketh  pleasure  in  us, 
than  to  die  with  a  whole  load  on  us  of  the 
world's  love  and  praise. 


SERMON  LVIII. 

THE  TWENTY-FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

A  DISEASED  WOMAN  HEALED. 

Mark  v.  28. — "  She  said,  If  I  may  touch  hut  his 
clothes,  I  shall  be  whole." 

The  chief  design  of  our  Lord's  miracles 
undoubtedly  was  to  confirm  his  pretensions. 
They  were  so  many  powerful  testimonies 
that  he  was  indeed  "  the  Christ,  the  Son  of 
God,  which  should  come  into  the  world." 
But  they  were  more  than  this.  Benevolent, 
for  the  greater  part,  in  their  character,  they 
served  to  unfold  the  mercifulness  of  his 
nature.  Had  he  been  so  pleased,  he  might 
have  called  the  people  around  him,  and, 
before  their  wondering  eyes,  have  cast  some 
huge  mountain  into  the  sea,  or,  like  Joshua, 
have  commanded  the  sun  to  stand  still  in 
the  heavens,  and  thus  have  manifested  his 
greatness;  but  his  heart  was  full  of  love 
to  the  world  he  had  entered,  and  it  would 
not  satisfy  him  to  e.xercise  his  power  with- 
out exercising  Ids  love  with  it.  His  mighty 
works,  therefore,  were  works  of  mercy. 
The  blind  received  their  sight,  the  lame 
walked,  the  lepers  were  cleansed,  the  deaf 
heard  ;  "  he  healed  all  manner  of  sickness 
among  the  people,  and  all  manner  of  dis- 
ease." 

And  his  miracles  answer  yet  a  Anther 
purpose.  Many  of  them  were  .so  porlijrm- 
ed,  as  to  shadow  forth  his  mode  of  saving 
us,  his  frequent  treatment  of  us  while  heal- 
ing  our  spiritual  maladies.  And  viewed  in 
this  light,  there  is  a  wonderful  varit  ty  in 
them.  Indeed,  had  we  to  portray  the  diver- 
sified dealings  of  Christ  with  the  soul  in 


A  DISEASED  WOMAN  HEALED. 


279 


recoverinjT  the  soul  from  its  lost  condition, 
thes«|  miracles  of  his  would  be  nearly  all 
we  should  want.  We  should  only  have  to 
follow  them  one  by  one,  and  there  would 
come  out  in  ihe  end  something  that  would 
meet  every  recovered  sinner's  case  ;  some- 
thing that  would  cause  every  man  who  is 
spiritually  healed,  to  say,  "Thus  and  thus 
did  my  blessed  Saviour  deal  with  me." 

Some  of  us  perhaps  may  find  the  mira- 
cle before  us  applicable  in  this  way  to  our- 
selves. 

1.  We  may  notice  the  sad  condition  of 
this  woman  when  she  came  to  Christ  for 
relief 

It  was  a  state  of  disease,  and  of  disease 
from  which  she  had  been  sutTering  a  long 
time — twelve  years.  Her  malady  too  was 
an  inveterate  one.  She  had  done  all  she 
could  to  be  relieved  from  it,  for  she  had 
applied  to  "  many  pliysicians,"  but  all  in 
vain  ;  and  worse  tlian  in  vain,  for  in  doing 
so,  she  had  "  suffered  nianv  things"  from 
her  physicians,  and  had  '•  spent  all  that  she 
had"  on  them,  and  "  was  nothing  bettered, 
but  rather  grew  worse." 

Shall  I  say,  brethren,  here  is  a  picture 
of  us  all  ?  Here  is  certainly  a  picture  of 
the  diseased  condition  of  us  all.  Whether 
we  know  it  or  not,  we  are  all  sick  in  our 
souls,  and  sick  unto  death.  There  is  a 
disease  \n.  us,  which  has  seized  on  the 
noblest  part  of  us.  It  is  weakening,  and 
polluting,  and  destroying,  our  immortal 
spirits.  In  a  ^ew  short  years,  if  it  is  not 
cured,  we  shall  sink  beneath  it.  Thou- 
sands are  sinking  beneath  it  daily.  It  is 
filling,  not  the  earth  only,  but  a  dark  hell 
with  death  and  corruption. 

And  some  of  you  know  this  to  be  true. 
When  you  say  here  Sunday  after  Sunday, 
"  There  is  no  health  in  us,"  you  mean 
what  you  say  ;  you  feel  the  existence  of 
this  terrible  disease  within  you,  and  are 
tormented  by  it,  and  disgusted  with  it,  and 
would  give  all  you  possess  in  the  world, 
to  have  it  healed.  Now  you  can  look  on 
this  history  and  say,  "  Here  is  a  complete 
picture  of  us.  We  too  have  been  a  long 
while  diseased  ;  we  too  have  done  all  we 
can  to  obtain  relief.  O  to  how  many  phy- 
sicians have  we  gone,  and  what  remedies 
have  we  tried  !  ministers,  and  friends,  and 
books,  and  sermons,  and  sacraments,  and 
prayers,  and  resolutions,  and  duties  !  Hut 
no  good  have  we  got  from  any  of  them. 
We  are  nothing  bettered.     The  burden  of 


our  guilt  is  as  heavy  on  us  as  it  was  at 
first,  and  heavier  ;  or  if  not  so,  the  power 
of  sin  is  as  strong  within  us  and  as  tor- 
menting. We  know  not  how  to  bear  it, 
nor  how  to  escape  from  it.  Like  this  wo- 
man,  we  are  growing  worse.  The  Lord 
seems  to  say  to  us  as  he  said  to  Israel  of 
old,  Thy  bruise  is  incurable,  and  thy  wound 
is  grievous." 

Now,  brethren,  it  is  for  such  as  you  that 
this  miracle  was  performed,  or,  if  not  per- 
formed, recorded — such  as  have  diseased 
souls  and  want  them  healed  ;  such  as  are 
laboring  under  the  burden  of  guilt,  or  suf- 
fering under  the  workings  of  inward  cor- 
ruption ;  such  as  want  pardon  or  sanctifica- 
tion,  and  know  not  where  to  find  either. 
Few  as  you  may  be  in  number,  you  are 
not  passed  over  in  this  blessed  book.  In 
this  history,  the  Lord  speaks  from  heaven 
to  you.  O  that  you  may  listen  to  him, 
and  that  ho  may  speak  effectually  to  your 
hearts  ! 

II.  Mark  next  the  state  of  this  woman's 
mind  in  this  sad  condition. 

Had  it  been  in  a  despairing  state,  we 
could  hardly  have  blamed  her.  It  seemed 
reasonable  for  her  to  despair.  What  ground 
of  hope  had  she  ?  Every  physician  and 
every  medicine  she  had  tried,  her  disease 
had  baffled.  Siie  had  no  money  left  where- 
with to  try  more.  But,  observe,  she  did 
not  despair.  We  find  her  at  the  end  of 
twelve  years,  still  looking  anxiously  as 
i  ever  for  relief,  and  when  she  hears  of  Jesus, 
a  new  physician,  determined  to  try  him. 
And  let  me  press  on  you,  brethren,  this 
part  of  her  conduct. 

One  of  the  worst  features  in  a  penitent 
sinner's  case,  is  frequently  a  tendency  to 
despair.  When  we  first  feel  slightly  the 
weight  of  our  guilt,  we  think  nothing  is 
more  easy  than  to  find  relief  from  it ;  and 
when  we  begin  to  feel  what  the  scripture 
calls  "  the  plague  of  our  own  hearts,"  the 
power  of  sin  within  us,  it  is  the  same — we 
think  that  we  shall  soon  overcome  it.  But 
when  we  .seek  pardon,  and  no  pardon  comes, 
or  no  sense  of  it ;  or  when  we  have  tried  a 
long  time  to  subdue  our  corruptions,  and 
our  corruptions  grow  stronger  rather  than 
weaker  beneath  our  efforts,  then  springs  up 
a  new  danger — we  arc  tempted  to  despon- 
dency. We  are  ready  to  say,  '•  There  is 
no  pardon  for  such  guilt  as  ours  ;  there  is 
no  victory  over  evil  affections  and  tempers 
like  ours."     And  then,  if  God  does  not  stop 


280 


A  DISEASED  WOMAN  HEALED. 


us,  it  is  easy  1o  tell  what  will  follow — we 
shall  settle  down  in  our  guilt  and  sinfulness; 
we  shall  plunge  lower  in  both  from  a  de- 
spair of  escape;  we  shall  think  no  more 
of  a  physician  or  remedy,  but  try  to  forget 
our  disease,  or  to  blunt  by  hardness  of 
heart  its  torment.  This  was  e.xactly  the 
state  into  which  guilty  Israel  fell  in  the 
time  of  Jeremiah.  "  She  said,  There  is  no 
hope,  no  ;  for  I  have  loved  strangers,  and 
after  them  will  I  go."  And  again  ;  "  There 
is  no  hope,  but  we  will  walk  after  our  own 
devices,  and  we  will  every  one  do  the 
imagination  of  his  evil  iieart."  A  fearful 
determination  !  but  it  seemed  to  this  sinful 
people  the  only  one  to  which  they  could 
come.  And  despair  does  sometimes  ap- 
pear so  reasonable  to  a  stricken  sinner, 
that,  though  he  trembles  at  it,  "  1  must," 
he  says,  "  sink  into  it."  But,  brethren, 
of  all  evils,  dread  this  the  most.  No  sin 
so  great  as  despair.  No  evil  lust  that  you 
have  in  your  hearts,  nor  all  of  them  to- 
gether, so  bad  as  despair.  It  antedates  the 
doom  and  wretchedness  of  hell.  Your  case 
may  be  sad,  it  may  be  sinful,  and  misera- 
ble, and,  as  far  as  you  can  see,  hopeless  ; 
but  it  is  not  hopeless,  and  would  not  be 
hopeless  were  it  tenfold  worse.  There  is  a 
physician  you  have  never  yet  tried,  or  have 
never  tried  aright;  and  while  you  are 
within  reach  of  him,  while  you  are  in  a 
world  where  he  comes  and  heals,  the  state 
of  your  minds  should  be,  like  that  of  this 
woman's  mind,  a  state  of  hope,  and  of  hope 
like  hers,  active  and  strong,  rising  above 
every  discouragement  and  impediment,  and 
leading  you  to  Christ. 

III.  Look  now  at  her  application  to  him  ; 
"  When  she  had  heard  of  Jesus,  she  came 
in  the  press  behind  and  touched  his  gar- 
ment ;  for  she  said,  If  I  may  touch  but  his 
clothes,  1  shall  be  whole." 

Tliere  is  deep  humility  evident  here,  and 
great  self-abasement. 

Other  suppliants  to  Christ  for  relief  had 
maniff'sted  feelings  like  tiiese.  One  just  be- 
fore, Jairus.  had  fallen  at  his  feet,  and  an- 
other, the  Roman  centurion,  had  sent  mes- 
sengers to  him  beseeching  him,  because  he 
felt  himself  unworthy  to  come  to  him  :  but 
this  woman  does  not  fall  at  his  fe(>t  ;  she 
dares  not  send  to  him  ;  she  is  ashamed  to 
look  him  in  the  face,  or  even  to  make  her 
case  known  to  him.  "  I  must  get  behind 
him,"  she  says,  "  and,  if  I  cn\\,  steal  iiii- 
peiccivcd  a  cure." 


And  herein,  brethren,  some  of  you  have 
felt  with  her.  Sin  is  a  shameful  thing, 
ft  is  a  loathsome  thing.  It  is  compared  in 
scripture  to  things  of  the  mosi  offensive 
kind — to  the  plague  and  the  leprosy,  to 
"  wounds,  and  bruises,  and  putrefying 
sores."  It  is  called  pollution,  filtliiness, 
abomination.  And  the  contrite  soul,  in 
turning  to  Christ  for  relief,  turns  to  him 
with  feelings  corresponding  with  these  de- 
scriptions, with  feelings  of  unutterable  self- 
loathing  and  self-abhorrence.  They  go 
beyond  h'lmility.  The  soul  would  hide 
itself,  if  it  could,  from  every  eve,  and  even 
from  its  own.  It  shrinks  from  itself  as 
from  a  mass  of  disgusting  pollution.  Turn 
to  the  thirty-eighth  psalm,  and  see  what 
David's  feelings  were  as  he  contemplated 
his  own  vileness.  He  not  only  talks  of  his 
sin  as  wounds,  he  speaks  of  it  as  corrupt 
and  offensive  wounds.  He  has  not  only  a 
disease  which  leaves  no  soundness  or  health 
in  him,  but  a  loathsome  disease  which 
drives,  he  says,  his  lovers  and  friends  to  a 
distance  from  him,  and  makes  even  his 
kinsmen  stand  afar  off".  And  think  of 
Ezra,  "  O  my  God,"  he  says  as  he  thinks 
of  his  iniquities,  "  I  am  ashamed  and  blush 
to  lift  up  my  face  to  thee,  my  God." 

O  that  you  all  understood  this  language, 
brethren  !  O  that  every  one  of  you  could 
enter  into  these  feelings  !  This  self-abhor- 
rence  is  no  common  thing  in  the  world. 
The  world,  for  the  great(>r  part,  is  too  de- 
graded to  hate  its  degradation,  or  even  to 
be  conscious  of  it.  But  there  are  men  in 
the  world,  who  detest  sin  as  they  detest 
nothing  else  ;  and  are  ashamed  of  it,  as 
they  are  ashamed  of  nothing  else  ;  and  if 
you  are  of  their  number,  you  have  reason 
to  rejoice  ;  you  either  are  or  soon  will  be 
in  the  number  of  the  children  of  God. 

Great  faith  too  is  manifested  in  this  wo- 
man's application  to  our  Lord. 

Slie  exjiected  from  him  a  perfect  cure. 
"•  I  shall  be  whole,"  she  said  ;  not  relieved, 
but  cured.  And  she  expected  it  from 
means  which  seemed  altogether  inade- 
quate ;  from  a  touch,  a  mrre  touch,  and 
that,  not  of  his  person,  but  of  his  i^ariniMit 
— St.  Matthew  says,  the  hem  or  fringe  of 
his  garment.  And  this  touch  too  \vas  to 
be  a  stolen  one.  She  had  heard  probably 
of  the  multitudes  who  had  already  touched 
i  him,  and  been  thereby  made  wliole,  and 
this  iiii'jht  ii;iv(^  cncouragrd  hfr  ;  but  they 
h;id  lonclicd  him  with  his  own   knowledge, 


A  DISEASED  ^VOMA^   HEALED. 


281 


and  perhaps  by  his  own  command.  She 
however  waitod  for  no  command.  "  His 
mere  garment,"  .she  said,  "can  heal  me 
even  without  his  interposition.  If  1  may 
touch  but  his  clothes,  I  shall  be  whole." 

Wliat  exalted  views  must  she  have  had 
of  the  Lord  Jesus!  And  none  ever  go  to 
him  for  spiritual  healing  witiiout  exalted 
views  of  him.  No  common  Saviour,  thev 
feel,  can  meet  their  case.  lie  must  be  a 
great  Saviour,  a  mighty  Saviour,  an  om- 
nipotent Saviour,  to  be  a  real  Saviour  to 
them.  The  sense  they  have  of  their  own 
miserable  condition  has  taugiit  them  this; 
and  find  them  when  you  will  at  the  feet  of 
Christ,  in  whatever  else  they  are  wanting, 
they  are  never  wanting  in  this — a  high  es- 
timation of  Christ  and  lofty  thoughts  of 
him.  Is  there  a  man  here  with  low 
thoughts  of  him  ?  any  one  who  doubts  his 
divine  gr.atnrss,  or  still  wants  proofs  and 
arguments  to  convince  him  of  it  ?  There 
is  a  man  who  most  certainly  knows  noth- 
ing of  the  condition  to  which  sin  has  redu- 
ced him  ;  who  has  never  taken  a  diseased 
soul  to  Ciirist  for  a  cure,  and  in  his  present 
mind  never  will. 

But  the  faitli  of  this  woman  was  not  per- 
fect. It  settled  only  on  one  part  of  our 
Lord's  character.  While  she  believed  his 
power,  she  distrusted  his  goodness.  The 
very  same  act  that  manifested  her  confi- 
dence in  the  one,  betrayed  her  suspicions 
of  the  other.  "  A  touch  of  him,"  she  said, 
"  will  heal  me,  but  I  must  touch  him  se- 
cretly. If  I  ask  him  for  his  help,  or  he 
sees  me  approach  to  touch  him,  he  will 
spurn  me  away." 

And  this  mixture  of  faith  and  unbelief  is 
very  common.  We  find  it  in  almost  every 
newly  converted  soul.  Sometimes  the 
power  of  Christ  is  distrusted  ;  more  fre- 
quently, as  here,  his  mercy.  "  Lord,  if 
thoi^  wilt,"  says  one,  "  thou  canst  make 
me  clean."  "  If  thou  canst  do  any  thing," 
says  another,  "  have  compassion  and  help 
me."  One,  like  Jairus  in  this  chapter, 
limits  Clirisl  to  a  certain  mode  of  proceed- 
ing;  "Come  and  lay  thy  hands  on  my 
daughter,  that  she  may  be  healed."  An- 
other thinks  that  he  must  be  applied  to  | 
with  certain  recommendations  or  in  a  cer-  I 
tain  way.  But  it  matters  not — apply  to 
him  as  we  will,  he  will  help  us.  If  there  ' 
is  found  in  us  any  real  faith  in  him,  it  at- 
tains its  object.  The  infirmity  of  it  is  over- 
looked.  To  this  fearful  woman  our  Lord 
36 


said,  "Thy  faith  hath  riade  thee  wlole  ;" 
and,  in  another  place,  he  speaks  of  the 
fteblest  exercise  of  this  precious  grace  as 
almost  omnipotent.  "  If  ye  have  faith  as  a 
grain  of  mustard  seed,"  he  says  to  liis  dis- 
ciples, "  ye  shall  say  unto  this  mountain, 
Remove  hence  to  yonder  place,  and  it  shall 
remove  ;  and  nothing  shall  be  in)possible 
unto  you." 

IV.  Let  us  pass  on  now  to  a  fourth  point 
in  the  history — ihe  cure  this  sufferer  received. 

Two  circumstances  are  remarkable  in 
this. 

It  was,  first,  an  immediale  cure.  "  Stra  ight- 
way,"  we  read,  "the  fountain  of  her  blood 
was  dried  up."  St.  Luke  says  it  was  dried 
up  "  immediately." 

And  this  is  always  our  Lord's  mode  of 
acting  with  one  class  of  persons  who  come 
to  him — those  who  come  to  him  for  the 
pardon  of  their  sins  through  his  hlood. 
The  man  who  applies  to  him  for  this  bless- 
ing, receives  it  the  instant  he  applies  for 
it.  There  is  no  delay  in  this  case,  no  pro- 
cess to  be  gone  through.  The  moment 
which  finds  him  a  believing  sinner  at  his 
Redeemer's  feet,  leaves  him  a  pardoned 
sinner  there.  With  this  woman  it  was  a 
touch,  and  instantaneously  a  perfect  cure. 
It  may  be  the  same,  brethren,  with  you. 
There  may  be  a  look,  a  prayer,  a  turning 
of  a  wretched  soul  to  Christ  for  pardon, 
that  can  find  pardon  nowhere  else,  and 
then  a  perfect,  a  free  and  full  and  ever- 
lasting  forgiveness.  "  They  that  believe," 
says  the  scripture,  "  are  justified  from  all 
tilings."  "  There  is  now,"  even  now,  "  no 
condemnation  for  them." 

Not  so  however  with  persons  of  another 
class — those  who  come  to  Clirist  to  have 
the  power  of  sin  subdued  in  them.  They 
are  often  kept  waiting  long  for  the  mercy 
they  desire  ;  and  not  only  so,  the  evil  they 
want  removed,  seems  frequently  to  grow 
worse  while  they  are  praying  for  deliver- 
ance from  it.  Look  to  this  chapter.  This 
case  also  is  met  in  it.  Jairus  is  described 
in  it  as  falling  down  at  the  feet  of  Jesus, 
beseeching  him  to  come  and  heal  his  child 
that  is  at  the  point  of  death.  Our  Lord 
sets  out  ;  but  it)stead  of  hurrying  thither  as 
Jairus  doubtless  urged  him  to  do,  he  stops 
by  the  way  to  heal  ibis  woman  and  after- 
wards to  converse  with  ht-r.  And  what 
must  have  been  the  feelings  of  that  poor 
father  while  this  was  going  on  ?  And 
what  must  have  been  his  anjjuish  the  next 


282 


A  DISEASED  WOMAN  HEALED. 


moment,  wheu  a  messoiifjer  comos  to  him 
from  his  house  and  tells  him  that  his  child 
is  dead — dead  M'hile  he  is  seeking  health 
and  life  for  her  of  this  mighty  Jesus  ?  The 
disease  grows  worse,  observe,  while  he  is 
seeking  a  remedy  for  it  ;  the  eVil  is  aggra- 
vated while  he  is  applying  for  relief,  and 
aggravated  in  appearance  beyond  all  renfi- 
edy.  But  you  know  the  result — that  man's 
child  lived  again,  the  help  he  sought  he  at 
last  found.  So  will  it  be  with  you.  The 
sins  which  rage  the  more,  the  more  you 
struggle  with  them,  shall  eventually  wither 
and  die.  Th<'  deliverance  you  are  seek- 
ing of  Christ  from  them,  shall  eventually 
come,  and  come  perhaps  when  you  least 
expect  it,  and  when  you  have  begun  to  de- 
spair of  it.  The  language  of  your  Lord  to 
you  is  the  same  as  his  language  to  this  trem- 
bling father,  "  Be  not  afraid,  only  l)elieve." 

But  again — the  cure  of  this  woman  was 
one  of  which  she  and  our  Lord  were  loth 
conscious. 

Our  Lord  was  conscious  of  it.  He  knew 
"  imuiediately  in  himself  that  virtue  had 
gone  out  of  him." 

The  woman  had  not  expected  this  ;  she 
did  not  think  of  it.  Her.  idea  was,  that  she 
should  get  a  cure  from  him  without  his  being 
aware  of  it,  and  go  away  unnoticed.  How 
little  did  she  understand  of  the  knowledge 
and  love  which  were  in  that  Saviour's 
heart!  He  saw  her  in  her  first  approach 
to  him  ;  he  sa<v  her,  in  his  divine  mind,  as 
she  struggled  tli rough  the  crowd  to  get 
near  him  ;  he  felt  her  trembling  hand  as 
she  stretched  it  forth  to  touch  his  garment ; 
and  his  heart  overflowed  with  pity,  and  de- 
light, and  love,  as  he  responded  to  tliat 
touch,  and  healed  her.  And  all  these 
feelings  discovered  themselves  when  he  at 
last  commended  her,  called  her  "  daugh- 
ter," and  bade  her  go  in  peace.  You  think 
perhaps,  brethren,  tliat  it  is  a  small  thing 
with  Christ  whether  you  come  to  him  or 
not ;  you  conceive  that  lie  on  his  lofty 
throne  has  not  a  look  or  a  thought  for  you  ; 
but  if  you  are  turning  to  him  with  a  broken 
heart  for  salvation,  there  is  not  an  object  in 
the  universe  he  tliinks  of  more  than  you, 
there  is  not  a  moment  in  which  his  eye  is 
oir  you.  (ire at  as  is  his  joy  now,  it  will 
be  greater  still  when  you  touch  him  and 
are  made  whole.  He  will  say  to  his  an- 
gels, as  he  said  to  his  disciples  here,  "  Vir- 
tue is  again  gone  out  of  me.  There  is  an- 
other sinner  healed." 


And  the  woman  too  was  aware  of  the 
cure  which  had  been  wrought  iw  her; 
"  She  felt  in  her  body  that  nhe  was  healed." 

Her  recovery  however  did  not  produce 
in  her  at  first  the  joyous  feelings  we  might 
have  anticipated.  There  was  a  mixture 
i  of  feeling  in  i)er.  She  feared  and  IrembUd 
after  she  was  healed,  as  many  a  pardoned 
sinner  trembles  when  he  has  reason  to  re. 
joice  ;  but  healed  she  was,  and  she  knew 
it.  If  for  a  moment,  startled  at  her  own 
boldness,  she  feared  a  new  infliction  of  her 
complaint  as  our  Lord  turned  round  and 
looked  at  her,  the  next  mcmf  nt  her  fear 
was  gone.  She  heard  him  ratify  her  cure. 
"  Be  whole,"  he  said,  "  of  thy  plrfgue." 

And  it  is  not  easy  to  conceive  how  any 
one  can  be  cured  of  the  dreadful  disease  of 
sin,  and  yet  remain  long  ignorant  or  doubt- 
ful about  his  cure.  Wei-e  pardon  all  that 
Christ  gives  us,  it  might  be  so.  We  can- 
not see  his  hand  as  it  passes  over  the  book 
of  God,  and  blots  out  the  dark  record  of 
our  crimes  which  is  written  there,  but  par- 
don is  not  all.  Sin  is  more  than  a  crime 
against  God  which  needs  to  be  forgiven,  it 
is  a  disease  within  a  man's  heart  to  be  sub- 
dued and  healed.  And  if  we  go  on  always 
doubting  whether  this  disease  within  us  is 
in  a  way  of  being  healed,  the  probability 
is  that  our  souls  are  sick  as  ever.  It  is 
not  easy  when  a  man  is  ill  and  recovering, 
to  tell  the  exact  moment  in  which  his  dis- 
ease gives  way  and  his  recovery  begins  ; 
but  it  is  soon  seen  by  those  around  him  that 
his  recovery  is  begun,  and  it  is  soon  felt  by 
himself.  Just  so  with  the  salvation  of  the 
soul.  A  man  may  doubt  for  a  time  at  his 
first  return  to  God,  and  these  doubts  may 
recur  again  and  again  at  intervals  in  hia 
future  years  ;  nay,  they  will  assuredly  re- 
cur whenever  he  allows  himself  to  wander 
from  his  God  ;  but  the  habitual  frame  of 
the  established  Christian's  mind  is  not^one 
of  doubt  and  uncertainty.  Christ  has  not 
done  so  little  for  him,  that  he  cannot  see  it. 
The  Holy  Spirit  has  not  touched  his  heart 
so  slightly,  that  lie  never  feels  his  hand. 
The  gospel  is  not  so  poor  a  medicine,  that 
he  is  always  doubting  whether  it  has  done 
him  any  good.  The  light,  "the  marvellous 
light  of  the  Lord"  is  not  so  like  darkness, 
that  he  can  never  distinguish  the  one  from 
the  other.  The  kingdom  of  God's  dear  Son 
is  not  so  m\ich  like  the  kingdom  of  dark- 
ness, that  he  is  never  able  to  tell  in  which 
he  is  standing.     He  feels,  and  blesses  God 


CHRIST  INVITING  HIS  SAINTS  T(3  HIS  KINGDOM. 


283 


as  he  feels  it,  that  a  jfrcat  change  has  pass- 
ed on  hiiM.  He  feels  that  tlie  playue  wilhin 
him  has  lost  its  power  to  destroy  ;  that  its 
rai^e  is  spent,  and  his  soul  is  recovering. 
He  cannot  douht,  for  he  has  a  testimony  in 
his  altered  aiPections,  and  altered  disposi- 
tions, and  altered  life,  that  a  miuh  v  God 
has  heen  at  work  within  him.  He  cannot 
distrust,  for  ho  has  experienced  and  is  e.\- 
periencinij  still  the  etlects  of  his  healing 
power.  He  knows  what  has  been  done  in 
him.  He  feels  in  his  soul  that  he  is  healed 
of  his  souTs  plague. 

Have  you,  brethren,  felt  this  ?  Are  you 
feeling  it  now  ?  If  so,  hoed  nut  your  re- 
maining fears.  Many  of  them  are  ground- 
less, and  had  better  be  cast  away.  But 
tremble  still  if  you  will,  so  that  you  trem- 
ble at  the  feet  of  Christ.  His  language  to 
you  is,  "  Your  faith  hath  made  you  whole. 
Go  in  peace."  If  it  is  not  so  with  you,  if 
you  have  never  felt  Christ's  healing  power, 
let  me  ask  you,  would  you  feel  it  ?  Do 
you  desire  to  feel  it?  Then  this  history 
tells  you,  that  feel  it  you  may.  It  says 
that  one  at  least  has  been  healed,  who  was 
as  Uiilikely  to  be  healed  as  you  ;  and  it  re- 
minds you  that  this  one  is  only  one  of 
many.  It  says  to  you.  Come  to  this  Sa- 
viour ;  force  through  every  discouragement 
your  way  to  him  ;  and  then,  let  your  dis- 
ease be  what  it  may,  however  malignant, 
dangerous,  and  inveterate,  touch  but  his 
garment,  the  hem  of  his  garment  ;  exercise 
what  may  seem  to  you  the  weakest  faith 
in  him,  and  you  shall  be  whole.  O  what 
a  glorious  Saviour  to  have  within  him  such 
a  power  to  heal  !  And  what  a  gracious 
Saviour  to  be  willing  to  heal  so  freely,  so 
easily  and  quickly! 


SERMON  LIX. 

THE    TWnNTi'-FlFTJI    SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

CHRIST  INVITING  IIIS  SAINTS  TO  HIS 
KINGDOM. 

St.  Matthew  xxv.  .'34. — "  Tfien  shall  the  King 
aaij  unto  them  on  his  ri<rht  hand.  Come,  ye 
blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  klnfrdoni  pre- 
pared for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world!" 

Of  all  the  words  that  have  ever  been 
spoken,  none  yet  perhaps  have  been  .so  joy- 
ful as  tJjese.     Happy  indeed  will   they  be 


who  hear  them,  and  happier  stiK  he  wlin  will 
utter  them.  Tliey  contain  tiie  last  invita- 
tion of  the  Lord  Jesus  to  his  beloved  church. 
Many  gracious-  invitations  has  lie  already 
given  us,  but  this,  the  last  of  all,  will  he  the 
best  of  all ;   we  shall  never  wish  for  another. 

I.  We  may  notice //te  time  when  this  invi- 
lat/on  will  be  given. 

If  we  look  backward  in  the  chapter  we 
see  that  it  will  be  just  after  our  Lord  has 
assembled  rotind  him  the  whole  world.  With 
him  will  come  from  heaven  "all  the  holy 
angels  ;"  "  before  him  shall  bo  gathered 
all  nations  ;"  and  "  then  shall  the  King  say 
to  them  on  his  right  hand.  Come." 

Here  then  is  a  fulfilment  of  the  promise 
he  has  left  us,  that  if  we  will  only  confess 
him  before  our  fellow-men,  he  will  one  day 
openly  confess  us.  This  public  invitation 
to  us  in  the  face  of  all  earth  and  heaven, 
will  be  an  acknowledgment  of  us  as  his 
own  before  earth  and  heaven.  When  he 
thus  says  to  us,  "  Come,''  it  is  like  saying 
to  all  others  concerning  us,  "  There  at  last 
I  make  manifest  my  chosen.  All  that 
great  multitude  is  mine." 

And  lonk  forward  in  the  chapter — he  will 
give  us  this  invilation  before  he  condemns  the 
ungodly. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  whenever  he 
describes  the  final  judgment,  our  Lord  al- 
most invariably  lays  down  this  order  of 
proceeding.  Three  times  over  he  has  done 
it  in  this  chapter.  The  wise  virgins  go  in 
with  the  bridegroom  to  the  marriage,  and 
then  the  foolish  virgins  are  shut  out.  The 
good  and  faithful  servants  are  rewarded, 
before  the  wicked  and  slothful  one  is  driven 
away.  And  here  Christ  says  not  one  word 
to  the  accursed,  till  he  has  said  to  the 
blessed,  "  Come." 

We  may  discern  here  the  mercifulness 
of  his  nature.  Judgment  he  calls  his 
"  strange  work."  He  passes  it  by  there- 
fore till  he  has  finished  his  accustomed,  his 
more  congenial  and  pleasant  work.  It  is 
natural  to  him  to  bless.  W' hen  he  sees  his 
people  gathered  together  before  him,  he 
blesses  them  at  once.  There  is  no  delay. 
He  says  in  all  the  eagerness  of  love  and 
joy,  "  Come.  I  cannot  look  on  others,  till 
I  have  welcomed  you.  I  know  1  must 
driv(^  away  into  darkness  that  guilty  throng; 
my  justice  must  have  to-day  an  awful  tri- 
umpli  ;  but  let  my  justice  for  a  moment 
j  wait.  Before  1  strike  terror  there,  I  must 
close  your  hearts  forever  from  every  fear." 


284 


CHRIST  INVITING  HIS  SAINTS   TO  HIS  KINGDOM 


We  are  told  also  that  "the  saints  shall 
judge  the  world."  It  seems  as  thougii  after 
their  own  trial  is  over,  they  are  to  pass 
from  Christ's  bar  to  his  throne,  and  to  sit 
with  hirn  there  in  judgment  on  the  unrighte- 
ous. The  sentence  he  is  about  to  pro- 
nounce on  them  is  a  fearful  one,  and  lie  will 
iiave  it  approved  and  accredited  by  rl)eir  fel- 
low-men, and  the  kindest  and  best  of  their 
fellow-nieii,  when  he  pronounces  it.  There- 
fore he  first  calls  the  righteous  to  him.  He 
will  have  his  enemies  go  to  their  doom  with 
the  coiidctniiation  of  their  own  brethren  on 
them,  as  well  as  his. 

II.  0')sorve  now  the  character  in  ivhich 
Christ  mill  give  this  invitation  ;  ''  Then  siiall 
the  King  say  to  them  on  his  right  hand. 
Come." 

Beautiful  indeed  is  the  introduction  of 
this  word  in  this  [dace.  At  first  we  are 
ready  to  tliink  our  Lord  has  almost  forgot- 
ten himself.  When  he  begins  this  lofty  de- 
scription, he  calls  himself  "  the  Son  of 
Man."  It  is  evidently  his  intention  to  rep- 
resent himself  as  the  Son  of  Man  through- 
out it.  l)Ut  when  he  looks  on  his  redeemed 
and  thiid;s  of  the  glorious  kingdom  into 
whicli  he  is  about  to  lead  them,  his  mind 
seems  to  (ly  to  that  kingdom,  and  he  speaks 
as  though  he  were  already  there  with  them. 
He  is  a  King  there  ;  he  dwells  among  his 
people  seated  on  a  throne  there  ;  and  here 
he  anticipates  for  a  moment  his  heavenly 
royalty.  As  the  great  King  of  heaven,  he 
says  to theni,  "Come." 

But  tliere  is  a  more  evident  and  a  w,eighti- 
er  reason  for  the  use  of  this  term.  In  al- 
most every  country,  sentences  of  a  capital 
nature  are  passed  in  the  king's  name. 
Judgnrnt  is  supposed  to  be  the  king's. 
And  so  liere.  Christ  is  now  on  a  judgment- 
seat.  He  is  passing  sentences  of  life  and 
death  on  unnumbered  millions.  He  is  ex- 
ercising a  royal  act,  and  to  let  us  see  that 
he  has  autlioi  ity  to  do  so,  he  manifests  for  a 
momenta  royal  dignity.  He  calls  himself 
a  king — "the  King,"  the  only  King  men 
and  angels  are  now  to  know. 

And  observe — there  is  the  magnificence 
of  a  king  all  around  him.  "  Hosanna," 
cried  the  people  of  Jerusalem  when  he 
came  and  revealed  in  lowly  majesty  a  ray 
or  two  of  his  greatness  there  ;  "  Blessed 
is  the  King  of  Israel  tiiat  comefli  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  ;"  but  what  were  their 
hosannas  when  compared  with  the  shout  he 
comes  with  now  ?    There  is  "  the  voice  of 


the  archangel  and  the  trump  of  God"  to 
proclaim  his  advent.  As  he  rends  the 
clouds,  he  appears  before  us  as  the  Son  of 
Man,  and  such,  we  may  say,  he  really  is; 
but  he  is  a  Man  whom  glittering  angels 
follow  to  his  seat,  as  they  never  followed 
any  other  ;  and  before  whom  they  bow 
down,  as  they  never  bowed  down  to  any 
but  the  living  God.  And  the  seat  prepar- 
ed for  him  is  a  throne.  He  himself  calls  it 
a  throne  of  glory.  And  if  it  is  glorious  in 
his  sight,  he  who  comes  from  so  high  a 
world  and  measures  things  by  so  high  a 
standard,  what  must  it  be  in  ours,  and  what 
the  majesty  of  him  who  sits  on  it  ? 

III.  Notice  the  persons  to  whom  this  in- 
vitation will  be  given.  The  text  does  not 
indeed  describe  them ;  all  it  says  of  them 
is,  that  they  are  those  on  the  King's  right 
hand  ;  but  we  may  discover  in  the  text 
and  the  verses  which  follow  it,  three  marks 
of  these  persons. 

First — they  are  those  who  have  abound- 
ed in  good  works,  kind  and  charitable 
works. 

And  observe  the  tenderness  of  our  Lord 
in  pointing  them  out  to  us  by  such  a  mark 
as  this.  He  distinguishes  them,  not  by 
what  he  has  done  for  them,  but  by  what 
they  have  done  ;  and  not  what  they  have 
done  for  him,  though  he  speaks  of  it  as  such, 
but  what  they  have  done  one  for  another. 
He  says  not,  "  I  have  chosen  you,  and  jus- 
tified  and  purified  you.  You  shall  be 
known  by  tlie  white  robes  I  have  put  rn  you 
— robes  which  my  blood  has  cleansed." 
"You  shall  be  recognised  here,"  he  says, 
"  by  the  deeds  of  charity  you  have  per- 
formed for  my  name's  sake  in  that  passed 
away  earth.  I  said  your  works  should 
follow  you,  and  now  I  explain  my  promise 
and  fulfil  it.  I  will  proclaim  your  works. 
I  will  own  them  as  I  own  you  before  these 
assembled  worlds.  Yes,  I  was  an  hun- 
gered, and  ye  gave  me  meat  ;  I  was  thirsty, 
and  ye  gave  me  drink  ;  I  was  a  stranger, 
and  ye  took  me  in  ;  naked,  and  ye  clothed 
me  ;  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  nte;  I  was 
in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me." 

But  here  perhaps  comes  some  cold-heart- 
ed professor  of  the  gospel,  and  cavils  at 
this  :  he  wants  it  explained  away.  Breth- 
ren, I  dare  not  explain  away  one  word  of 
this  sacred  book.  I  would  not  willingly 
misinterpret  one  word  in  it,  to  meet  the  no- 
tions of  all  the  professors  of  the  gospel  on 
the  earth.     Why  should  I  ?     A  man  of 


CHRIST  INVITING  HIS  SAINTS  TO  HIS  KINGDOM. 


285 


real  Christian  frcliiiir  is  no  more  stacupred 
or  puz/Jf'd  by  such  a  scri|)ture  as  this, 
than  vnu  are  hv  any  other.  lie  sees  in  it 
not  human  merit,  but  divine  condescension  ; 
not  th  '  justification  of  his  guilty  soul  by 
any  petiv  acts  of  eartiily  kindness  that  he 
can  p-rform,  but  the  amazins  i^race  of  liis 
exalted  Saviour  in  taking  notice  of  those 
acts  of  kindness.  It  is  wonderful  to  him 
that  he  will  think  of  him  on  liis  throne, 
but  more  wonderful  that  he  will  think  and 
speak  on  that  throne  of  any  thing  he  has 
done.  You  could  no  more  make  such  a 
man  believe  that  his  charities  will  open 
heaven  to  him,  than  you  could  make  him 
believe  his  hand  could  move  the  world. 

"  But  self-righteous  men,"  you  may  say, 
"  will  look  at  this  scripture  and  draw  from 
it  food  for  their  self  righteousness."  And 
so  they  would,  put  what  interpretation  or 
misint(M-pretation  on  it  you  please  ;  or  blot 
it  out  alloiietlier  from  God's  word,  they  will 
find  food  for  theirmiserable  pride  elsewhere. 
They  would  extract  the  poison  they  want 
from  the  very  flowers  of  heaven.  Yes, 
place  them  in  heaven,  among  prostrate 
angels  they  would  soon  find  .some  rea.son 
why  they  should  stand  up  ;  they  would 
soon  mingle  with  their  Redeemer's  praise, 
"some  low,  jarring  praise  of  their  own 
worthiness.  It  is  not  altering  a  text  or  al- 
tering a  sermon,  that  will  meet  their  case  ; 
it  is  an  altering,  and  a  thorough  altering 
by  the  power  of  God,  of  their  hearts. 

But  the  people  addressed  in  the  text, 
bear  another  mark  on  ihem—^they  think 
nothing  of  their  good  works.  The  surprise 
they  express  when  they  hear  of  them, 
oroves  this.  "  Lord,"  they  say,  "  when 
saw  we  thee  an  hungered,  and  fed  thee  ? 
or  thirsty,  and  gave  thee  drink  ?  When 
saw  we  thee  a  stranger,  and  took  thee  in  ? 
or  naked,  and  clothed  thee  ?  Or  when 
saw  we  thee  sick  or  in  prison,  and  came 
unto  thee  ?"  Here  indeed  is  humility, 
brethren,  and  self-renunciation  !  This  is 
more  than  a  casting  away  of  our  own 
righteousness ;  it  is  feeling  that  we  have 
no  righteousness  of  our  own  to  cast  away. 
If  you  want  to  show  self-righteous  men 
their  mistake,  bring  them  here.  Here  are 
men  commended  by  Christ  himself  for 
their  good  deeds,  and  yet  can  think  of  no 
deeds  of  theirs,  that  are  worthy  of  com- 
mendation. The  very  sound  of  praise  as- 
tonishes them.  They  know  not  what 
Christ  means.     They  suspect  a  mistake. 


We  see  at  once  that  in  the  world  tliry  have 
left,  they  could  never  have  been  indulgino- 
themselves  in  self  complacency  ;  tliey 
could  never  have  thought  highly  of  their 
own  righteousness,  much  less-have  expect- 
ed heaven  on  the  ground  of  it.  We  see 
that  they  are  men  who  must  have  been 
making  God's  free  mercy  their  hope,  and 
are  ready  now  to  make  that  nu-rcv  their 
song.  They  will  go  from  that  judgment- 
seat  to  a  world  of  glory,  not  elated  with 
the  scene  through  which  they  have  passed, 
not  speaking  one  to  another  of  their  own 
excellencies,  hut  wondering  at  the  grace 
which  has  been  shown  then),  and  breaking 
forth  into  fervent  and  adoring  thanksgiv- 
ings  to  him  who  has  shown  it  tlir  in.  '•  Wor- 
thy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain."  will  be 
no  strange  song  in  their  lips.  They  will 
say  in  heaven,  like  men  long  accustomed 
to  say  it,  "  Salvation  to  our  (iod  which 
sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb." 

And  thus  does  our  Lord  address  at  the 
same  time  in  this  scripture  two  very  differ- 
ent classes  of  men.  "  You  that  talk  of 
my  love,"  he  says,  "  and  yet  never  feel 
any  love  yourselves  ;  you  that  hop'^  in  my 
mercy  or  pretend  to  hope  in  it,  and  yet 
never  show  any  mercy  to  your  fldlow-men  ; 
you  that  are  cold-hearted,  selfish  profess- 
ors of  my  gospel — I  can  never  take  you 
to  heaven.  It  is  a  world  of  love  ;  you 
would  not  be  happy  in  it.  And  you  that 
are  proud  and  self-righteous — I  cannot  take 
you  there.  It  is  a  lowly  world.  Self-ex- 
altat'on  has  no  place  in  it.  God  is  every 
thing  in  it,  and  man  nothing  at  all.  You 
could  not  bear  to  be  in  it." 

And  there  is  yet  another  peculiarity  in 
these  men — they  are  those  whom  the  Father 
has  Wcsscd. 

We  have  just  been  admiring  the  love 
Christ  bears  his  people  ;  we  have  seen  how 
he  appears  to  delight  in  keeping  his  own 
doings  out  of  sight  in  order  to  bring  for- 
ward theirs.  See  now  how  he  honors  his 
Father.  Again  he  puts  himself  aside. 
He  traces  all  the  happiness  of  his  people  to 
his  Father's  goodness.  He  says  not,  "Come, 
my  redeemed.  Come,  ye  whom  I  have  so 
much  loved  and  so  dearly  purchased  ;  ye 
whom  I  have  so  gloriously  saved."  No. 
"  Come  ye,"  he  says,  '*  whom  my  Father 
has  loved,  whom  my  Father  ha'^  saved,  l/> 
whom  \\.  is  my  Father's  good  pleasure  to 
give  the  kingdom.  Come,  ye  blessed  of 
my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom." 


2SG 


CHRIST  INVITING  HIS  SAINTS  TO  HIS  KINGDOM. 


There  was  once,  brethren,  a  curse  on 
these  men,  and  a  heavy  one.  It  involved 
in  it  a  sentence  of  everlasting  banishment 
from  God's  presence,  the  same  fearful  sen- 
tence that  is-  pronounced  l)y  Christ  in  this 
ciiapter  on  the  men  at  his  left  hand.  There 
was  no  admission  for  them  into  heaven.  It 
would  have  been  useless  to  say  to  them, 
"Come."  But  Christ  takes  on  him  their 
nature  ;  bears  in  that  nature  the  punish- 
ment of  their  sin  ;  redeems  them  from  the 
curse  that  rested  on  them,  by  making  him- 
self a  curse  for  them  ;  and  now,  their  sen- 
tence bfing  cancelled,  heaven  lies  open  to 
them  ;  now  he  can  say  to  them.  "  Come  ;" 
and  now  they  are  blessed,  for  he  has  pur- 
chased blessings  innumerable  for  them,  and 
he  has  blessed  them.  But  all  this,  observe, 
he  here  buries  in  silence.  Others  may 
speak  of  it,  but  he  will  not.  It  was  God 
the  Father,  who  sent  him  down  to  be  their 
Saviour ;  it  was  God  the  Father,  who 
made  him  a  propitiation  for  their  sins  ;  he 
was  only  doing  his  Father's  work,  when 
he  gave  himself  for  them.  It  was  the 
P'ather's  grace  that  chose  them,  and  the 
Father's  mercy  that  pardoned  them,  and 
the  Father's  power  that  kept  them,  and  the 
Father's  love  and  pity  that  from  beginning 
to  end  redeemed  them.  Passing  over  there- 
fore all  his  own  sufferings  and  doings  in 
their  behalf,  he  says,  "  Come,  ye  blessed 
of  my  Feather."  Losing  sight  of  the  chan- 
nels through  which  their  blessings  have 
come,  he  sees  only  the  fountain  and  spring 
of  them.  O  wonderful  self  annihilation  ! 
Thus  does  he  verify  his  own  declaration  to 
the  Jews,  "  I  do  honor  my  Father."  Thus 
does  he  prostrate  his  human  nature  before 
his  divine.  In  the  day  of  iiis  triumph,  on 
the  throne  of  his  glory,  this  Son  of  Man 
declares  his  manhood  to  be  of  small  ac- 
count ;  God  must  be  all  in  all.  And  the 
lofty-minded  Paul  could  enter  into  this 
feeling.  He  expresses  it.  "Ye  blessed 
of  my  Father,"  says  Christ.  "  Blessed," 
says  Paul,  "be  the  (xod  and  Father  of  our 
Lord  .Icsus  Christ,  who  hath  blessed  us — 
blessed  us  with  all  spiritual  blessings  in 
heavenly  places  in  Christ." 

IV.  We  may  look  now  at  the  kingdom 
to  which  Christ  calls  his  redeemed. 

Observe,  it  is  really  a  kingdom.  This 
word  means  something.  It  is  often  used 
to  describe  heaven,  so  often  that  it  must 
describe  it  with  peculiar  force.  We  get 
from  it  an  idea  of  order  and  rule  in  heaven. 


'  It  is  a  world  that  is  governed.     There  is  a 

King  in  it,  and  there  are  laws  in  it,  and  subor. 

dination  in  it.     No  anarchy,  no  struggling — 

I  we  shall  be  all  "  willing  and  obedient"  there. 

And  it  forms  one  empire  only.  Count- 
less  millions  are  the  inhabitants  of  it,  but 
I  they  are  all  linked  tocether  in  one  society  ; 
:  the  same  King  rules  over  all.  '•  One  Lord, 
one  faith,"  on  earth  ;  one  Head,  one  king- 
dom, in  heaven. 

And  still  more  is  contained  in  this  word. 
The  saints  themselves  are  said  to  reign  in 
heaven.  Heaven  seems  to  be  called  a 
kingdom  principally  with  a  reference  to 
their  glorious  condition  in  it.  It  is  a  world 
of  kings.  They  shall  live  there  as  kings. 
in  magnificence,  and  liberty,  and  power. 
None  shall  rule  over  them  but  God,  and  he 
shall  so  reign  over  them,  that  their  roval 
greatness  never  shall  be  infringed  on,  or 
their  liberty  curtailed,  or  their  power  fet- 
tered. His  service  there  shall  be  indeed 
"  perfect  freedom."  The  very  same  chap- 
ter in  the  Revelation  of  St.  John,  that  tells 
us  "  his  servants  shall  serve  him,"  tells  us 
immediately  afterwards  that  "they  shall 
reign  forever  and  ever."  They  shall  be  as 
so  many  crowned  kings  in  heaven.  And 
their  crowns  shall  sit  easy  on  them;  there 
shall  be  no  thorns  in  them.  All  the  splen-- 
dor  of  royalty  shall  be  theirs,  without  its 
cares  or  burdens. 

And  this  kingdom  is  said  to  be  a  prepared 
kingdom — prepared  for  this  happy  people, 
and  long  ago  prepared  for  them,  even  "  froni 
the  foundation  of  the  world." 

Observe  here  again  the  mercifulness  of 
God's  nature.  Hell  was  not  prepared  for 
man.  Christ  speaks  here  as  though,  in 
building  his  universe,  the  Lord  never  con- 
templated man's  banishment  from  him.  He 
builds  no  place  to  receive  him  when  ban- 
ished. And  now  he  must  be  banished,  he 
will  build  none.  He  sends  him  away  to  a 
world  already  in  existence,  "  prepared  for 
the  devil  and  his  angels."  When  he  hrs 
o  punish,  it  seems  as  though  any  thing 
(vould  do  ;  it  is  easy  for  him  to  satisfy 
his  anger  ;  but  what  can  satisfy  his  love  ? 
No  world  in  his  creation  is  good  enough. 
He  founds  a  special  kingdom  for  his  re- 
deemed. He  creates  for  them  a  special 
residence,  and  adorns  it  with  a  special 
glory.  Or  rather  he  says  of  his  own  heav- 
enly kingdom,  "Henceforth  it  shall  be  call- 
ed theirs.  I  will  make  it  over  to  them  ;  I 
will  accommodate  it  to  their  natures  ;  I  will 


CHRIST  INVITING  HIS  SAINTS  TO  HIS  KINGDOM. 


287 


furnish  it  for  their  happiness  ;  I  will  order  !  you  are  come.  He  feels  towurds  you  as  a 
all  thinifs  throughout  it  with  a  reference  to  father  feels  towards  the  children  he  loves, 
their  ahode  in  it.  When  they  come  to  it,  It  is  his  pleasure,  it  gratifies  hiin,  to  give 
they  shall  (ind  it  a  world  made  ready  for   you  the  kingdom." 

them.  Here  at  last,  they  shall  say,  is  our  1  Hence  we  see  that  our  possession  of  heav- 
rcst  and  home.  We  expected  to  find  this  en  will  be  free.  We  have  not  earned  or 
world  of  glory,  a  world  strange  to  us  ;  but  purchased  it.  It  is  ours  simply  because  in 
no  strangeness  do  we  feel  in  it.  We  are  receiving  Christ,  we  have  received  "power 
rather  like  men  who  have  been  for  years  to  become  the  sons  of  God."  (Jod  in  his 
in  a  foreign  country,  and  find  themselves  abounding,  sovereign  mercy,  has  given  us 
all  at  once  breathing  their  native  air  in  their  in  Christ  "  the  adoption  of  sons,"  and  all  a 
own  land."  Thus  the  scripture  speaks  son's  privileges  and  claims, 
elsewhere  of  the  things  we  shall  enjoy  in  '  And  our  possession  of  heaven  will  be  full, 
heaven,  as  "things  that  God  has  prepared  <  Were  we  to  be  merely  servants  in  it,  happy 
for  us  ;"  of  the  city  we  shall  walk  in  there,  j  we  might  be,  but  wo  mig])t  have  but  a  low 
as  "  a  city  that  God  has  prepared  ;"  of  the  place  in  it,  and  a  scanty  measure  of  its  hap- 
place  we  shall  occupy  in  it,  as  a  place  |  piness.  Going  there,  however,  as  children 
'■  given  to  those  for  whom  the  Father  has  i  and  heirs,  all  that  is  in  it  is  ours  and  ours 
prepared  it."  |  forever.     We  shall    have  a  full  and  pcr- 

And  all  this  work  of  preparation,  the  text ,  petual  enjoyment  of  it. 
savs,  was  done  long  ago.  Our  thoughts,  j  And  yet  once  again — we  are  to  inherit 
brethren,  take  a  narrow  range.  Days  and  [  this  kingdom  it-llh  Christ,  our  Lord. 
Years,  mere  fragments  of  time,  are  their  There  is  one  word  in  this  invitation, 
boundaries.  We  are  evermore  showing  |  which  gives  new  sweetness  to  all  the  rest. 
"ur  littleness  by  the  prominence  we  are  [  It  is  the  word  that  begins  it,  "Come." 
jiving  in  our  thoughts  to  present  moments.  ]  Were  our  blessed  Master  when  he  calls  us 
Mot  so  Christ.  Eternity  was  the  world  he  to  heaven,  about  to  take  his  own  departure 
had  lived  in.  When  he  came  here,  in  eter-  to  some  other  world,  who  would  not  say, 
nity  still  his  thoughts  moved,  and  of  eternity  "O  let  me  follow  him!  1  will  joyfully 
he  still  spake.  As  he  invites  his  ransomed  give  up  that  splendid  inheritance  and  all 
ones  to  the  kingdom  appointed  them,  the  my  brethren  and  companions  there,  so  that  I 
hour  when  he  created  that  kingdom  for  may  go  and  be  with  him."  Happy  to  some 
them,  is  present  to  his  mind  ;   he  sees  his 


design  in  creating  it  about  to  be  accom- 
plished, and  he  tells  them  of  that  design  ; 
he  tells  them  how  long  his  love  for  them 
had  been  in  existence  and  action.  "  I 
loved  you,"  he  says,  "before  the  light 
beamed  forth  or  the  earth  was.  I  have 
loved  you  with  an  everlasting  love.  Come, 
inherit  the  kingdom  1  prepared  for  you  from 
the  foundation  of  the  world." 

And  again — this  kingdom  is  one  which 
vr  are  to  inherit ;  that  is,  we  are  to  enter 
on  and  enjoy  it  as  the  heirs  of  it. 

And  from  our  I^ord's  lips,  how  natural, 
we  may  say  again,  is  this  language !  Heav- 
en is  his  Father's  kingdom.  He  is  at  this 
moment  addressing  his  saints  as  his  breth- 
ren ;  he  doubtless  feels  himself  their  brother. 
Therefore  he  makes  use  of  this  word  "  in- 
herit." Therefore  hesays  to  them,  "Come, 
inherit  the  kingdom.  The  (iod  who  is  the 
owner  of  it,  is  my  Father  and  yours.  You 
have  this  day  been  manifested  to  be  his 
.sons.  He  will  now  receive  you  to  himself 
as  he  receives  me,  without  asking  you  why 


of  us  are  the  moments  we  spend  now  in 
hi's  presence.  The  wondering  Jacob  could 
talk  at  Bethel  of  "the  hou.se  of  God  and 
the  gate  of  heaven,"  and  cannot  we  do  the 
same,  brethren,  wherever  we  are,  when 
we  feel  that  Christ  is  near  us?  If  we 
really  love  him,  our  heart's  first  desire  is  to 
see  him  and  be  with  him.  And*  this  he 
knows.  The  first  word  we  shall  hear  from 
liim  on  his  throne,  will  tell  ns  thai  he  knows 
it.  He  will  say  to  us,  "Come."  And  it 
will  be  from  the  fulness  of  his  own  heart, 
that  he  will  say  it.  No  one  in  that  multi- 
tude will  so  long  to  draw  near  to  Christ,  as 
Christ  will  long  to  have  him  near.  Ha 
will  lead  his  redeemed  to  their  glory  with 
greater  joy  than  they  will  follow  him  there. 
He  go  to  one  worlH  and  .send  (hem  to 
another  ?  No  ;  he  would  mar  his  own  hap- 
piness as  well  as  theirs,  if  he  diil.  He  will 
go  with  them  to  the  kingdom  prepared  for 
them,  and  there  as  he  sits  down  on  his 
throne,  he  will  say,  "  I  will  never  leave 
you  again.  I  told  you  that  I  would  come 
again  and  receive  you  unto  myself;  and 


ii88 


CHRIST  INVITING  HIS  SAINTS  TO  HIS  KINGDOM 


now  farewell  forever  to  all  distance  and 
separation  between  us.  Where  I  am,  there 
ye  shall  be  also.  We  suffered  together  in 
that  world  which  is  perished  ;  we  will  be 
glorified  together  in  this.  You  know  how 
that  world  treated  me.  I  still  bear  in  my 
body  the  marks  of  its  treatment,  and  I  re- 
joice to  bear  them,  for  they  will  serve  to 
remind  you  forever  how  I  have  loved  you. 
And  I  know  how  it  treated  you.  It  was 
not  worthy  of  you,  but  it  cast  you  aside  as 
the  ofTscouring  of  all  things.  Here  at  last 
we  are  where  we  are  known.  Here  we 
shall  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom 
of  our  Father.  We  will  inherit  together 
this  splendid  world."' 

And  now,  brethren,  what  shall  I  say  to 
you  at  the  end  of  this  sermon  ?  This  one 
thing  only  I  would  say — let  it  stir  you  up 
to  aim  at  a  lively  conviction  of  the  real 
existence  of  heaven,  and  the  certainty  of  a 
coming  judgment.  It  is  not  easy  to  get 
this.  We  are  creatures  of  present  scenes 
and  present  moments.  The  distant  and 
future  have  but  little  power  over  us,  amaz- 
ingly little  when  we  recollect  that  we  are 
to  live  in  the  future  and  go  to  the  distant. 
Talk  to  us  of  the  coming  of  Christ,  and  the 
rising  of  the  dead,  and  the  gathering  to- 
gether of  the  world,  and  the  opening  of  hell 
and  heaven — most  of  us  must  feel  that  these 
things  seem  to  us  as  ideal  and  visionary; 
our  minds  do  not  grasp  them.  But  these 
things  are  .realities  or  soon  will  be  such, 
and  very  solemn  realities.  Think  for  a 
little.  The  ocean  on  our  earth  is  in  exist- 
ence, tl'.ough  you  do  not  see  it ;  it  is  beat- 


ing now  on  many  a  shore,  though  you  do 
not  hear  it.  If  you  had  never  seen  the 
ocean,  you  would  find  it  difficult  to  form 
as  you  sit  there  any  distinct  notion  of  it. 
It  is  the  same  with  eternal  and  heavenly 
things.  They  also  are  in  existence;  they 
also  are  real,  though  they  seem  to  you  as 
unreal.  You  must  not  yield  to  this  in- 
firmity of  your  nature,  or  you  will  one  day 
find  out  your  error.  You  must  not  give 
yourselves  up  to  present  things,  for  you 
are  soon  going  away  from  present  things. 
What  will  you  do  when  you  wake  up  and 
find  all  gone  but  heaven  and  hell  ?  A  trifle 
may  place  you  in  this  situation.  In  a  day 
or  an  hour  you  may  be  there.  Blame  not 
me  then  for  so  often  trying  to  lead  your 
thoughts  forward.  Rather  blame  your- 
selves that  they  do  not  of  themselves  go 
forward  ;  rather  pray  that  God  the  Holy 
Ghost  may  carry  them  forward.  O  that 
our  minds  could  ever  live  in  futurity  !  O 
that  we  could  think  as  dying  men  ought  to 
think  of  the  world  we  shall  soon  be  in  ! 
The  distant,  the  unseen,  the  eternal — these 
really  are  the  things  vvhicli  most  concern 
us,  brethren.  Our  home  lies  among  them. 
We  shall  one  day  be  as  familiar  with  them 
as  we  now  are  with  the  scenes  among 
which  we  are  now  moving.  O  let  us  try 
to  regard  ourselves  as  very  near  them. 
Let  us  try  to  live  in  the  daily  anticipation 
of  them.  Then  are  our  minds  in  a  right 
state,  when  we  can  say  with  St.  Paul, 
"Our  conversation  is  in  heaven;  from 
whence  also  we  look  for  the  Saviour,  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ." 


CONTENTS. 


SKRMON   I. 

The  End  of  Man's  Earthly  History. 

ErcLKsusTES  xii.  7. — Tlieii  shall  the  dust  return  to  the  carlh 

as  It  vviki,  and  the  spirit  shall  return  unto  God  who  gave  it. 

Page  7. 

SEKMON  II. 

TiiK  Laborers  standing  Idle  at  the  Eleventh  Hour. 

St.  Matthew   xx.   6. — ,\bout  ihe  eleventh  hour  he  went 

out.  anil  found  others  standing  idle,  and  sailli  unto  them. 

Why  stand  ye  licru  all  the  day  idle  1 

Page  12. 

SERMON  in. 

The  Building  of  the  Heavenly  Temple. 
1  Kings  vi.  7.— The  house,  when  it  was  in  building,  was 
huilt  of  stone  made  ready  before  it  was  brought  thither : 
so  that  lliere  was  neither  hammer,  nor  axe,  nor  any  tool 
of  iron,  hear<l  in  the  house,  while  it  was  in  building. 
Page  li>. 
SERMON  IV. 
The  Vicissitudes  of  Human  Life. 
Zechariah  xiv.  G,  7.— It  shall  come  to  pass  in  that  day, 
that  the  light  shall  not  be  clear  nor  dark  ;  but  it  shall  be 
one  day  which  shall  he  known  to  the  Lord,  not  day  nor 
night;  but  it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  at  evening  time  it 
shall  be  light. 

Page  2.1. 

SERMON  V. 

The  Prayer  of  Moses  for  a  View  of  God. 
ExoDis  xxxiii.  18. — I  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory. 
Page  28. 
SERMON  VI. 
The  Two  Builders. 
St.  Lukk  vi.  47,  48,  49. — Whosoever  cometh  to  me,  and 
lieareth  my  sayings,  and  doeth  them,  I  will  show  you  to 
whom  he  is  like  :  he  is  like  a  man  which  built  an  house, 
and  digged  deep,  and  laid  the  foundation  on  a  rock  :  and 
when  the  flood  arose,  the  stream  heat  vehemently  u[K)n 
that  house,  and  could  not  shake  it,  lijri!  was  luuiidril  upon 
a  rock.     But  he  that  h.areili  and  doeih  not,  is  like  a  man, 
that,  without  a  foundation,  tiuilt  an  house  uiB)n  the  earth  ; 
against  which  the  stream  did  beat  vehemently,  and  im- 
mediately it  fell,  and  the  ruin  of  that  bouse  was  great. 
Page  34. 
SERMON  VII. 
The  Unbelief  of  the  Samaritan  Lord. 
3  Kings  vii.  2. — Behold,  thou  shalt  see  it  with  thine  eyes, 
but  Shalt  not  eat  thereof. 
Page  39. 

SERMON  VIII. 

The  Funeral  at  the  Gate  of  Nain- 

St.  Luke  vii.  12. — Behold,  there  was  a  dead  man  carried 

out,  the  only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow. 

Page  44. 

SERMON  LX. 

The  Compassion  of  Christ  for  the  Widow  of  Nain. 

St.  Like  vii.  13.— When  the  Lord  saw  her,  he  had  com- 

p;ission  on  her,  and  said  unto  her,  Weep  not. 

Page  49. 

SERMON  X. 

The  Widow's  Son  Restored  to  Life. 

St.  Luke  vii.  14,  15.— He  came  and  touched  the  bier,  and 

they  that  bare  him  stood  still.     And  lie  said,  V'oung  man, 

I  say  unto  thee.  Arise.    And  he  tiiat  was  dead,  sat  up,  and 

began  tc  speak :  and  he  delivered  him  to  bis  mother. 

Page  54. 


SERMON  XI. 

Sins  remembered  by  God. 

PsALM  ic.  8. — Thou  hast  set  our  iniquities  before  tliee,  ooi 

secret  sins  in  the  light  of  thy  countenance. 

Page  59. 

iSKUMON   -MI. 

Sins  remembered  by  God. 

Psalm  xc.  8. — Thou  hast  set  our  iniquities  before  thee,  GUI 

secret  sins  in  the  light  of  thy  countenance. 

Page  63, 

SERMON  XIIL 

Sins  blotted  out  by  God. 

Isaiah  xliii.  25.— I,  even  I,   am  he  that  blotteth  out  thjr 

transgressions  for  mine  own  sake,  and  will  not  rememlter 

thy  sins. 

Page  G9. 

SERMON  XIV. 
The  Character  of  the  Pardoned. 
St.  Luke  vii.  37,  38.— Behold,  a  woman  in  the  city,  which 
was  a  .sinner,  when  she  knew  that  Jesus  sat  at  meat  in  the 
Pharisee's  house,  brought  an  alabaster  box  of  ointment, 
and  stood  at  his  feet  behind  him  weeping,  and  began  to 
wash  his  feet  with  tears,  and  did  wipe  them  with  the  bairi 
of  her  head,  and  kissed  his  feet,  and  anointed  them  with 
the  ointment. 

Page  74. 

SERMON   XV. 

The  Afflicted  David  a  Pardoned  Sinner. 

2  Samuel  xii.  13.— Nathan   said    unto   David,  The  Lord 

also  hath  put  away  thy  sin. 

Page  79. 

SERMON  XVI. 

The  Message  sent  to  St.  Paul  in  the  Storm. 

Acts  xxvii.  23,  24.— There  stood  by  nie  this  night  the  angel 

of  God,  whose  I  am  and  whom  I  serve,  saying.  Fear  not, 

Paul ;  thou  must  be  brought  before  Caisar. 

Page  84. 

SERMON  XVIL 

The  Condescension  of  God. 

Psalm  cxiii.  5,  0.— Who  is  like  unto  the  Lord  our  God,  wh« 

dwelleth  on  high,   who  hnmlileth  himself  to  behold  tlM 

things  that  are  in  heaven,  and  in  the  earth  1 

Page  69. 

SERMON  XVm. 

The  Foolish  Virgins. 

St.  Matthew  ixv.  8. — Our  lamps  are  gone  out. 

Page  94. 

SERMON  XIX. 

The  Rock  at  Horeb. 

1  Corinthians   x.  4.— Tlioy   drank  of  that  spiritual  rock 

that  followed  them,  and  that  rock  was  Christ 

Page  100. 

SERMON  XX. 

The  Streams  from  the  Rock  at  Horeb. 

Psalm  Ixxviii.  IC— He  brought  streams  also  out  oftlierotk. 

Page  104. 

SERMON   XXL 

The  Flowing  of  the  Streams  from  Horeb. 

Psalm  cv.  41.— He  opened  the  rock,  and  the  waten  gtuhed 

out :  Uiey  ran  in  the  dry  places  like  a  river. 

Page  100. 


CONTENTS. 


SERMON  XXII. 

The  Duties  of  Christians  towards  the  Heathen. 

EzEKiKL  xxxvii.  4.— Again  ho  said  unto  ine,  Prophesy  upon 

these  bones,  and  say  unto  them,  O  ye  dry  bones,  hear  the 

word  of  the  Lord. 

Page  114. 

SERMON  XXllI. 
The  Christian  in  the  Wilderness. 
HosEA  ii.  14,  15.— Therefore,  heboid,  I  will  allure  her,  and 
bring  her  into  the  wilderness,  and  speak  conitbrtably  unto 
her.     And  I  will  give  her  her  vineyards  fioui  thence,  and 
the  valley  of  Achor  for  a  door  of  hope;  and  she  shall  sing 
there  as  in  the  days  of  her  youth,  and  as  in  the  day  when 
she  came  up  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt. 
Page  121. 
SERMON  XXIV. 
The  Multitude  fed  in  the  Wilderness. 
8t  Mark  vi.  42.— And  they  did  all  eat  and  were  filled. 
Page  127. 
SERMON  XXV. 
The  Lost  Sheep  brought  Home. 
St.  Luke  xv.  4,  5,  6.— What  man  of  you,  having  an  hun- 
dred sheep,  if  he  lose  one  of  them,  doth   not   leave   the 
ninety  and  nine  in  the  wilderness,  and  go  after  that  which 
is  lost,  until  he  find  it  7    And  when  he  liatli  found  it,  he 
layeth  it  on  his  shoulders,  rejoicing.    And  when  he  cometh 
home,  he  call-ili  together  his  friends  and  neighbors,  saying 
unto  them,  Rejoice  with  me,  for  I  have  found  my  sheep 
which  was  lost. 

Page  132. 

SERMON  XXVI. 
The  Complaint  of  St.  Paul. 
KoMANS  viii.  24.— O  wretched  man  that  I  am  !  who  shall  de- 
liver me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ^ 
Page  138. 
SERMON  XXVII. 
The  Final  Glory  of  the  Church. 
Ephesians  v.  2.1,  26,  27. — Christ  also  loved  the  church,  and 
gave  himself  for  it;  that  he  might  sanctify  and  cleanse  it 
with  the  washing  of  water  by  the  word ;   that  he  might 
present  it  to  himself  a  glorious  church,  not  having  spot,  or 
wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing,  but  that  it  should  be  holy  and 
williout  blemish. 

Page  144. 

SERMON  XXVin. 
The  Histonj  of  Jonah's  Gourd. 
Jonah  iv.  C,  7.— The  Lord  God  prepared  a  gourd,  and  made 
it  come  up  over  Jonah,  that  it  might  be  a  shadow  over  his 
head  to  deliver  liitn  from  his  griet\  So  Jonah  was  exceed- 
ing glad  of  the  gourd.  But  God  prepared  a  worm,  when 
the  morning  rose  the  next  day,  and  it  smote  the  gourd  that 
it  withered. 

Page  150. 

SERMON  XXIX. 
The  risen  Jesus  questioning  Peter's  Love. 
.8t.  John  xxi.  17.— lie  saith  unto  him  the  third  time,  Simon, 
son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me  7  Peter  was  grieved  because 
he  said  unto  him  the  third  time,  Lovest  thou  me  7  and  he 
said  unto  him.  Lord,  tliou  knowest  all  things;  thou  know- 
est  that  I  lovo  thee. 

Page  154. 

SERMON  XXX. 

The  Christian  taught  to  Pray. 

St.  Li'KE  xi.  1. — Lord,  teach  us  to  pray. 

Page  100. 

SEHMON  XXXJ. 

The  Peace  of  God  keeping  the  Heart. 

Phiuppian.i  iv.  7.— The   peace   of  God,  which  passcth  all 

understanding,  shall  keep  your  liearta  and  nimds  Uirough 

Christ  Jesus. 

Page  ICG. 


SERMON  XXXll. 
The  Visit  of  the  Wise  Men  of  the  East 


Christ. 


St.  Matthew  ii.  9.— And,  lo,  the  star  which  they  saw  i« 
the  east,  went  before  them,  till  it  came  and  stood  ovef 
where  the  young  child  was. 

Page  172. 

SERMON  XXXIII. 

The  Plague  in  the  Wilderness. 

Numbers  xvi.  48.— He  stood  between  the  dead  and  Uie  liv 

ing,  and  the  plague  was  stayed 

Page  177. 

SERMON  XXXIV. 

The  Rich  Man  and  Lazarus. 

St.  Luke  xvi.  22.— It  came  to  pass  that  the  beggar  died,  and 

was  carried  by  the  angels  into  Abraiiam's  bosom ;  the  rich 

man  also  died. 

Page  184. 

SERMON  XXXV. 

The  Prayer  of  Christ  for  his  Church. 

St.  John  xvii.  24.— Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom  thou 

hast  given  me,  be  with  nie  where  I  am,  that  they  may  be 

hold  my  gloiy 

Page  190. 

SERMON  XXXVl. 
The  Baptism  of  Christ. 
St.  Luke  iii.  21,  22.— Now  when  all  the  people  were  bap 
tized,  it  came  to  pass  that  Jesus  also  being  baptized  and 
praying,  the  heaven  was  opened,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  de 
scended  in  a  bodily  shape  like  a  dove  upon  him,  and  a 
voice  came  from  heaven,  which  said,  Thou  an  my  be- 
loved Son;  in  thee  1  am  well  pleased. 
Page  197. 
SERMON  XXXVn. 
The  Unbelief  of  Thomas. 
St.  John  xx.  26,  27,  28.— And  after  eight  days  again    his 
disciples  were   within,   and  Thomas  with  them.    Then 
came  Jesus,  the  doors  being  shut,  and  stood  in  the  midst, 
and  said,  Peace  be  unto  you.    Then  saith  he  to  Thomas, 
Reach  hither  thy  finger,  and  behold  my  hands ;  and  reach 
hither  thy  hand  and  thrust  it  into  my  side  ;  and  be  not 
faithless,  but  believing.    And  Thomas  answered  and  said 
unto  him,  My  Lord  and  my  God. 
Page  203. 
SERMON  XXXVIU. 
The  Redeemed  Sinner  a  Temple  of  God. 
1  Corinthians  vi.  19,  20.— What  7  know  ye  not  that  your 
body  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost  which   is  in  you, 
which  ye  have  of  God  7  and  ye  are  not  your  own,  for  ye 
are  bought  with  a  price ;  therefore  glorify  God  in  your  . 
body  and  in  your  spirit  whicli  are  God's. 
Page  208. 
SERMON  XXXIX. 
The  Woman  of  Canaan. 
St  Matthew  xv.  28. — Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  her, 
6  woman,  great  is  Uiy  faith  !    lie  it  unto  thee  even  as  thou 

wilt- 

Page  215. 

SERMON  XL. 
The  Cities  of  Refuge. 
Numbers  xxxv.  9,  10,  11.— The   Lord  spake  unto   Moses, 
saying,   Speak  untc 
them,  When  ye  be  come  ovi 
naan,  then  ye  shall  appoint  y 

Page  221. 

SERMON  XLl. 

The  Promise  of  God  to  the  Israelites  at  Sinai. 

Exodus  xx.  24.-In  all  places  where  I  record  my  name, 

will  couie  unto  thee,  and  I  will  bless  thee. 

Page  227. 


l)f   Is 

...dan,  i -  -.     --     .. 

cities  to  be  cities  of  refuge 


PAROCHIAL    SERMOIS. 


SERMON    I. 

THE  END  OF  MAN'S  EARTHLY  HISTORY. 

EcCLESIASTES  XII.  7. 

Then  shall  the  dust  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was, 
and  the  spirit  shall  return  unto  God  who  gave 

Thus,  brethren,  does  old  age  end  ;  and 
not  old  age  only — thus  will  soon  end  the 
history  of  us  all.  The  former  part  of  this 
chapter  may  be  applicable  to  very  few  of 
us.  It  exhibits  a  picture  of  man  in  his  latter 
days.  It  describes  him  as  gradually  sink- 
ing under  the  weight  of  years,  and  the  in- 
firmities of  dissolving  nature.  These  we 
may  never  experience ;  for  we  may  die 
before  the  "  evil  days"  come,  which  bring 
them.  But  die  when  we  may,  this  will  be 
the  close,  the  winding  up,  of  our  earthly 
histon,-,  "  The  dust  shall  return  to  .ne  earth 
as  it  was,  and  the  spirit  shall  return  unto 
God  who  gave  it." 

We  have  here  for  our  consideration,  first, 
the  two  parts  of  which  we  are  all  com- 
posed, and,  secondly,  their  different  destina- 
tions when  they  are  separated. 

I.  What  is  man  ?  Have  you  ever  asked 
yourselves  this  question  ?  If  you  have  se- 
riously done  so,  it  has  perplexed  and  bewil- 
dered  you.  We  know  not  what  we  are. 
All  that  we  can  learn  about  ourselves,  is 
no  more  than  the  simple  fact  with  which 
every  child  is  acquainted,  that  wo  are 
niadc  up  of  a  body  and  a  soul  ;  that  we 
are  composed  of  two  very  difTerent  parts, 
which  became  connected  we  know  not 
when,  and  affect  one  another  we  know  not 
bow.  They  are  called  in  the  text  "the 
Hu6t"  and  "  the  spirit."     These  two  united 


form  that  common,  but  mysterious  piece  of 
workmanship,  which  we  call  man. 

1.  By  the  di/M  we  are  undoubtedly  to 
understand  the  body,  that  part  of  us  which 
may  be  seen  and  felt.  And  it  is  called  by 
this  humiliating  name  partly  on  account  of 
its  origin.  "  Of  the  dust  of  the  ground" 
did  the  Lord  God  form  man.  He  could 
have  formed  him  without  this  dust,  without 
any  materials  whatsoever  ;  but  to  keep  him 
low,  to  mortify  the  pride  of  his  vain  descend- 
ants, he  took  the  meanest  substance  that 
the  earth  could  furnish,  and  moulded  that 
into  the  shape  of  man.  Hence  we  are  said 
to  dwell  "  in  houses  of  clay  ;"  the  habita- 
tion of  our  spirit  is  called  an  "earthly 
house ;"  its  "  foundation  is  in  the  dust," 
and  of  dust  are  its  walls  composed. 

This  expression  may  refer  also  to  the 
perishable  nature  of  our  bodies.  They  are 
not  formed  of  materials  that  are  strong  and 
lasting,  of  brass,  or  iron,  or  stone.  Then 
we  might  have  defied  the  hand  of  violence 
and  of  time.  But  we  are  dust,  one  of  the 
lightest  and  most  unstable  of  all  substances. 
One  moment,  it  lies  before  us  in  our  path ; 
the  next,  a  breath  of  wind  removes  it,  and 
scatters  it  at  its  will. 

And  what  are  we,  but  creatures  born  to 
perish  ?  so  liable  to  frailty  and  change,  that 
we  are  said  to  be  "  made  subject"  to  vani- 
ty  ?  Vanity  has  a  dominion  over  us,  and 
we  are  every  moment  feeling  its  power. 
Nay,  we  are  vanity  itself,  and  that  not  in  our 
\vorst  condition  only,  amidst  the  ravages  of 
disease  and  the  weakness  of  age,  in  our 
"  best  estate"  we  are  "  altogether  vanity." 
A  wind  passes  over  us,  and  we  are  gone. 
Hence  Job  connects  our  frailty  with  our 
earthly  origin.     No  sooner  has  he  spoken 


THE  END  OF  MAN'S  EARTHLY  HISTORY. 


of  our  "  houses  of  clay,"  than  he  says  of 
us,  "  They  are  crushed  before  the  moth. 
They  are  destroyed  from  morning  to  even- 
ing. They  perish  forever  without  any  re- 
garding it." 

But  there  is  one  idea  more  comprehended 
under  tliis  term — meanness^  vvorthlessness. 
Nothing  is  of  less  value  than  dust.  It  is 
rudely  trodden  on  by  every  foot.  It  is 
sometimes  removed  as  a  nuisance  out  of 
our  path. 

And  what  is  the  worth  of  these  bodies  of 
ours,  which  we  pamper  and  adorn  with  so 
much  care  ?  True,  they  are  the  workman- 
ship of  God,  monuments  of  the  omnipotence 
which  could  build  so  wondrous  a  fabric 
from  materials  so  vile ;  but  they  still  are 
dust,  composed  of  the  same  elements  as  the 
body  of  the  meanest  reptile,  or  a  blade  of 
grass.  They  are  of  importance  to  us  now, 
because  they  are  the  tabernacles  of  the  im- 
mortal soul  ;  but  separate  them  from  that 
soul,  take  them  when  the  spirit  has  forsaken 
them — what  is  their  value  then  ?  Our 
friends  will  tell — they  will  bury  us  out  of 
their  sight.  In  tlie  very  houses  w^hich  we 
now  call  our  own,  we  shall  be  denied  a 
lodging.  Loved  or  hated,  a  grave  will  be 
dug  for  us,  and  we  shall  be  left  in  it  in 
darkness  and  alone,  valued  only  by  the 
worm  wliich  takes  us  for  its  prey. 

2.  But  man  is  not  all  dust.  "  There  is 
a  spirit  in  hini."  And  it  is  his  own  spirit ; 
it  forms  a  part  of  him.  And  what  is  the 
spirit?  None  but  the  living  God  can  tell. 
It  is  that  strange  something  within  us,  which 
no  human  eye  has  ever  seen,  but  without 
which  we  can  do  nothing  and  are  nothing, 
at  least  no  more  than  a  clod  or  a  stone.  It 
dwells  in  the  body,  animates  and  rules  it ; 
but  is  not  confined  to  it.  Spurning  the 
limits  of  time  and  space,  it  roves  among 
the  ages  that  are  gone,  as  though  it  had 
lived  in  tliem.  By  the  wings  of  its  power- 
ful imagination,  it  flies  to  the  remotest  parts 
of  the  earth,  it  ranges  through  the  orbs  of 
the  sky ;  nay,  it  soars  beyond  them  ;  it 
rises  to  the  great  God  himself,  penetrates 
into  that  invisil)le  eternity  which  he  in- 
habits, and  elevates,  and  expands,  and 
transforms  itself,  by  contemplating  those 
glories  which  are  at  his  right  hand. 

In  its  nature,  it  is  altogether  difrcrent 
from  the  other  part  of  us.  We  know  not 
how  it  was  made,  but  we  know  that  noth- 
ing on  the  earth  was  employed  in  the  creation 
of  it.     It  was  altogether  heavenly   in    its 


origin,  brought  into  existence  by  the  rmmew 
diate  act  of  God.  If  formed  of  any  mate- 
rials, they  are  such  as  lie  far  beyond  the 
reach  of  man's  discovery  or  conception ; 
they  are  such  perhaps  as  angels  cannot 
comprehend. 

It  is  immortal.  The  body  is  of  short  du- 
ration. It  soon  arrives  at  its  perfection, 
and  soon  decays :  it  may  speedily  be  worn 
out.  But  the  soul  never  dies.  It  may 
change  ;  it  may  be  enfeebled,  or  polluted, 
or  degraded ;  but  it  cannot  be  destroyed. 
Even  sin,  which  has  withered  its  beauty, 
cannot  put  an  end  to  its  existence.  Cor- 
ruption and  the  worm  cannot  touch  it. 
Amidst  all  the  generations  of  time,  all  the 
ravages  of  death,  all  the  vicissitudes  of  hu- 
man things,  it  lives  and  acts.  The  wreck 
of  a  world  can  no  more  injure  it,  than  the 
fall  of  a  leaf  in  a  distant  forest  can  wound 
the  eagle  that  is  soaring  in  the  skies. 

Is  not  man  then  a  mysterious  being  ? 
Look  at  his  body.  How  "  fearfully  and 
wonderfully"  is  it  made !  Composed  of 
dust,  and  yet  so  contrived  and  framed,  that 
the  wisest  of  the  sons  of  men  cannot  per- 
fectly  learn  its  structure  !  He  owns  him- 
self baffled  as  he  studies  it ;  and  the  more 
he  studies  it,  the  more  is  he  lost  in  admira- 
tion at  the  number  and  variety  of  its  parts. 
Every  limb,  every  vessel,  every  movement 
within  it,  is  an  amazing  proof,  we  might 
almost  say,  an  amazing  effort,  of  almighty 
power  and  skill. 

But  this  is  nothing  when  compared  with 
the  spirit.  The  one  excites  our  admiration 
as  we  think  of  it ;  the  other  will  not  let  us 
think  of  it.  It  is  out  of  our  reach.  It 
mocks  our  efforts. 

And  then  the  union  that  exists  between 
this  moulded  dust  and  the  immortal  spirit- 
how  close  is  it !  To  affect  the  one  is,  in 
some  degree,  to  affect  the  other.  And  this 
union  is  as  strange  as  it  is  close.  What  is 
the  tie  which  connects  these  two  parts  of 
us  ?  They  are  held  together  by  the  breath 
which  is  every  moment  j)assing  to  and  fro 
from  our  nostrils ;  at  least,  when  thai 
breath  ceases  to  pass,  their  union  ends. 

We  need  not  then  look  around  us  for 
wonders.  We  ourselves  are  wonders.  Tho 
youngest  child  within  these  walls  is  enough 
to  confound  and  humble  an  inquiring 
world. 

II.  But  the  two  parts  of  wiiicli  we  are 
composed,  though  t^losely  united,  are  not 
inseparable.    A  trifle  can  at  any  time  sever 


THE  END  OF  MAN'S  EARTHLY  HISTORY 


9 


them.  Sooner  or  later,  they  must  be  part- 
ed. If  disease  or  violence  do  not  rend 
them  asunder,  as  thou<rh  weary  of  their 
union,  they  will  separate  of  themselves. 
Let  us  then  consider,  in  the  second  place, 
their  destinations  m  hen  we  die. 

We  must  not  enter  on  this  consideration, 
without  remembering  that  we  have  now  be- 
fore us  the  most  important  inquiry  which 
can  possibly  cntrage  our  thoughts.  "  Be  we 
in  what  state  we  may,  it  is  certain  that  we 
cannot  long  continue  in  it.  It  must  soon 
come  to  an  end.  We  must  undergo  a 
change.  And  if  the  question.  What  will 
this  cliange  be  ?  does  not  interest  us,  where 
Ls  the  question  that  ought  to  affect  us  ? 

1.  We  are  reminded  of  the  change  which 
our  bodies  are  destined  to  undergo.  "  Then 
shall  the  dust  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was  ;" 
that  is,  the  body  shall  become  just  what  it 
was  before  the  hand  of  God  modelled,  and 
the  living  soul  animated  it.  It  was  dust, 
and  it  shall  turn  to  dust  again.  A  humili- 
ating and  loathsome  process  shall  mingle  it 
with  the  clods  of  the  valley,  and  give  it  to 
the  winds  of  heaven. 

And  must  it  really  come  to  this  ?  Must 
the  forms  that  move  around  us,  must  the 
frames  of  our  children  and  friends,  that 
seem  so  firm,  thus  perish  ?  They  must. 
They  may  be  very  dear  to  us ;  as  we  look 
on  them,  they  may  appear  so  lovely  and 
strong,  that  Me  can  hardly  deem  it  true 
that  death  can  harm  them ;  but  they  will 
soon  be  gone,  gone  as  a  dream  of  the  night 
or  a  shadow  of  the  morning.  We  our- 
selves shall  follow  them.  We  may  go  be- 
fore them.  Ere  we  are  aware,  weariness 
and  pain  may  be  exchanged  for  rottenness 
and  dust.  Our  "  time  is  appointed,"  our 
"months  are  numbered,"  even  our  "  days 
are  determined  ;"  and  when  they  are  spent, 
we  shall  all  lie  cold  at  the  root  of  the  rocks, 
at  the  foot  of  the  mountains. 

But  why  is  this  ?  Why  must  the  body, 
so  curiously  and  exquisitely  wrought,  so 
much  loved  and  cherished,  be  thus  broken 
in  pieces  ?  We  say,  because  it  is  mortal  ; 
but  how  came  it  mortal  ?  Tliough  but 
dust,  yet  it  is  not  therefore  of  necessity  per- 
ishable dust.  The  same  Being  who  wrought 
it  into  the  shape  of  man,  could  as  easily 
preserve  it  in  that  shape,  as  he  now  de- 
stroys it.  The  power  which  gave  it  life,  is 
surely  able  to  sustain  it  in  never-fading 
vigor. 

We  often  err  in  this  matter.     We  talk 
2 


of  death  as  coming  in  what  we  call  "  the 
order  of  nature,"  and  seem  to  regard  it  as 
a  thing  of  course,  as  a  part  of  the  original 
portion  and  destination  of  our  race.  Thus 
we  endeavor  to  conceal  our  shame.  But 
as  long  as  man  continued  sinless,  death  had 
no  more  power  to  touch  his  body,  than  it 
has  now  to  destroy  his  soul.  He  became 
mortal  when  he  became  sinful.  Dust  he 
was  ;  but  it  was  not  till  he  became  rebel- 
lious dust,  that  he  heard  a  voice  saying  to 
him,  "  Unto  dust  shalt  thou  return." 

When  therefore  we  see  the  shrouded 
corpse  and  the  opened  grave,  it  is  vain,  it  is 
worse  than  vain,  it  is  deceptive,  to  say, 
"  See  there  the  work  of  nature."  Nature 
abhors  the  charge.  That  havoc  is  the 
work  of  sin.  Yes,  brethren,  the  pride,  the 
sensuality,  the  worldly-mindedness,  the 
self-will,  the  forgetfulness  of  God,  which 
we  make  so  light  of — these  are  the  thiufrg 
which  laid  our  fathers  in  the  grave,  and  will 
soon  lay  us  there.  Their  vileness,  their 
guilt,  their  destructive  power,  are  written 
in  the  ashes  of  all  the  dead,  and  will  soon 
be  written  in  our  own.  Such  is  the  ac- 
count  scripture  gives  us  of  the  matter; 
"  By  one  man  sin  entered  into  the  world, 
and  death  by  sin  ;  and  so  death  passed  up- 
on all  men,  for  that  all  liave  sinned." 

It  is  in  vain  that  we  object  to  this  state- 
ment, that  we  charge  this  dispensation  with 
severity;  the  stubborn  fact  remains— all 
that  ever  lived,  have  died  ;  and  we,  in  the 
midst  of  our  objections  and  cavils,  are  hast- 
ening  to  the  tomb.  There  is  only  one  con- 
elusion  to  which  a  rational  inquirer  can 
come ;  it  is  this — Sin  is  a  greater  evil  in 
the  sight  of  God,  than  it  is  in  mine.  I  have 
yet  to  learn  its  malignity.  No  heart  can 
conceive  aright  of  its  terrors. 

Such  is  the  destination  of  the  body,  and 
such  tlie  cause  of  it. 

2.  Let  us  look  now  at  the  destination  of 
the  soul.  "  The  spirit  shall  return  unto 
God  who  gave  it." 

Here  we  are  again  baflled.  Where  is 
God  ?  How  does  the  spirit  find  him  ?  By 
what  strange  means  does  it  ascend  to  his 
abode  ?  We  may  ask  these  questions,  but 
none  can  answer  them.  Probably  the 
spirit  itself  could  not,  even  after  it  has  tra- 
veiled  this  mysterious  journey.  It  is  cer- 
tain  that  we,  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  know 
nothing  of  the  matter.  We  may  think  and 
talk  about  it,  we  may  amuse  ourselves  and 
perplex  others ;  but  as  for  comprehending 


10 


THE  END  OF  MAN'S  EARTHLY  HISTORY. 


it,  we  might  as  easily  scale  the  heavens. 
We  must  end  where  we  began — this  is  the 
extent  of  our  knowledge — "  The  spirit  shall 
return  to  God." 

The  Lord  Jehovah  always  claims  the 
spirit  as  his  own.  "  All  souls,"  he  says, 
"  are  mine."  If  they  are  in  a  limited 
sense  ours,  they  are  so  only  because  he  has 
given  them  to  us.  He  was  at  first  "  the 
Father  of  our  spirits,"  for  they  came  from 
his  hand ;  and  he  is  still  their  Lord. 
Hence  when  our  bodies  are  about  to  turn  to 
corruption,  he  recalls  them  to  himself.  He 
might  still  confine  them  in  their  wretched 
habitations ;  force  them  to  linger  among 
their  mouldering  ruins,  and  to  witness  their 
desolation ;  imprison  them  in  a  dead,  as 
well  as  in  a  living  frame :  but  he  spares 
even  the  guilty  this  degradation.  The  body 
goes  to  the  dust  alone.  The  liberated  spirit 
spurns  the  dust.  Death  beats  down  its 
prison  walls,  and  then,  like  a  captive  exile, 
it  hastens  to  be  free,  and  a  moment  takes  it 
to  its  native  skies. 

For  mark — the  return  of  the  spirit  to  God 
is  represented  here  as  immediate.  It  takes 
place  at  the  very  instant  when  the  "  silver 
cord"  is  loosed,  and  "  the  wheel"  of  life 
stopped.  Superstition,  or  vanity,  or  affec- 
tion, may  for  a  long  time  keep  the  body,  at 
least  a  part  of  it,  from  its  destined  home ; 
but  nothing  can  detain  or  delay  the  soul. 
God  says,  "  Return  !"  and  ere  the  word 
has  gone  forth  from  his  mouth,  he  sees  it 
naked  before  his  throne.  This  truth  should 
correct  an  error  into  which  many  of  us  are 
very  prone  to  fall.  We  often  look  on  the 
realities  of  eternity  as  very  distant  from  us. 
We  think  that  between  us  and  the  awful 
scenes  we  have  heard  of,  many  hundred 
years  of  insensibility  and  nothingness  will 
intervene ;  that  our  souls  will  sleep  in 
some  unknown  land,  till  the  close  of  all 
things.  But  where  have  we  learned  this 
notion  ?  Not  from  the  Bible.  There  is 
not  a  single  declaration  in  that  sacred  book, 
which  can  sanction  it.  On  the  contrary, 
there  are  many  passages  which  go  directly 
against  it.  "  This  day  slialt  thou  be  with 
me  in  paradise,"  said  our  Lord  to  the  mal- 
efactor who  was  dying  at  his  side  ;  and  in 
what  state  there  ?  Senseless  and  lifeless  ? 
No ;  alive  to  its  glories,  transported  with 
its  blessedness.  And  when  Paul  thought 
of  being  "  absent  from  tlie  body,"  what  did 
he  connect  with  his  absence  ?  What  did 
he  look  on  as  its  immediate  and  necessary 


consequence  ?     He  knew  that  he  should  be 

"  present  with  the  Lord." 

O  what  a  solemn  thought  is  this  !  Who 
has  not  been  thrilled  by  it,  as  he  has  heard 
the  breath  go  forth  from  some  fellow-worm  ? 
And  who  can  resist  its  power,  when  he  ap- 
plies it  to  himself?  Brethren,  you  are  liv- 
ing just  as  near  to  eternity  as  you  are  to 
the  grave.  The  hour  of  your  entering  into 
heaven  or  being  cast  into  hell,  is  not  one 
moment  further  off  than  the  hour  of  your 
own  death.  If  you  die  to-day,  wliere  will 
to-morrow  find  your  spirit  ?  Not  hovering 
over  its  deserted  clay  ;  not  mingling  unseen 
with  your  children  and  friends,  to  sooth 
itself  with  their  sorrow  for  your  loss.  No  : 
it  will  be  among  eternal  joys  or  eternal  sor- 
rows ;  far  from  all  the  abodes  of  men ;  in 
the  midst  of  the  pardoned  and  glorified,  or 
among  the  condemned  and  lost.  It  will  be 
one  of  these  inhabitants  of  eternity  ;  taking 
its  share  either  in  their  wailings  or  in  their 
triumphant  songs. 

Hence  we  may  observe  that  it  is  no  light 
or  trifling  purpose,  for  which  "  the  spirit  re- 
turns to  the  God  who  gave  it."  It  goes  to 
him  to  give  an  account  of  all  it  has  thought, 
and  felt,  and  done,  while  in  the  flesh ;  of 
the  use  it  has  made  of  its  own  powers,  and 
of  the  powers  of  that  body  over  which  it  has 
ruled.  He  sent  it  here  that  it  might  know, 
and  love,  and  serve  him ;  he  sends  for  it 
again  at  death,  to  inquire  whether  it  has 
fulfilled  its  work.  It  goes  to  him  therefore 
to  be  judged,  to  appear  at  his  bar  and  re- 
ceive its  sentence  ;  and  then  to  enter  on  its 
final  home.  If  found  in  Christ,  clothed  in 
his  righteousness  and  purified  by  his  Spirit, 
it  will  dwell  in  a  world  where  it  shall  sor- 
row no  more,  fear  no  more,  be  unsatisfied 
no  more.  If  found  out  of  Christ,  rising 
from  its  earthly  tenement  with  the  stains  of 
sin  polluting  it,  and  the  guilt  of  unpardoned 
sin  testifying  against  it,  it  will  be  "  driven 
away  in  its  wickedness,"  far  from  the 
"  presence  of  the  Lord  and  the  glory  of  his 
power." 

We  see  then  that  each  part  of  us  goes  to 
its  own  place  when  we  die  ;  each  "  returns," 
is  restored  to  its  original  source.  The 
earth  opens  its  bosom  to  receive  its  due, 
and  it  does  receive  it;  earth  is  given  to 
earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust.  The 
great  God  claims  the  spirit ;  it  goes  to  him  ; 
he  takes  it,  and  disposes  of  it  as  he  will. 
And  in  the  destination  of  both,  he  magnifies 
liis  own  great  name.     The  body,  as  it  per- 


THE  END  OF  MAN'S  EARTHLY  HISTORY. 


11 


ishes,  declares  his  holiness  in  one  world, 
while  the  soul,  if  lost,  reveals  it  in  another. 
If  saved,  it  is  saved  "  to  the  praise  of  the 
ploTj  of  his  grace."  It  shines  forth  in  the 
heavens,  the  brightest  monument  there  of 
Iiis  unsearchable  love. 

This  then  is  the  view  which  this  text  af- 
fords us  of  our  approaching  destination.  It 
warrants  us  in  coming  to  this  conclusion — 
There  are  events  about  to  take  place  in  our 
history,  of  far  greater  importance  to  us  than 
any  we  have  yet  experienced.  I  speak  not 
of  the  success  or  failure  of  our  earthly 
schemes,  of  changes  in  our  worldly  condi- 
tion or  circumstances,  of  sudden  riches  or 
sudden  poverty,  of  the  loss  of  children,  or 
parents,  or  kindred.  I  speak  of  what  this 
text  foretells,  of  the  falling  into  dust  of  the 
very  bodies  which  are  here  assembled,  of 
the  departure  of  your  soul  and  my  soul  in- 
to the  presence  of  its  Judge. 

And  who  can  tell  us  what  this  presence 
is  ?  As  we  think  of  it,  the  sinking  of  the 
body  into  dust  is  forgotten.  To  appear  be- 
fore the  great  and  hitherto  unseen  Jehovah 
— to  see  him  eye  to  eye  and  face  to  face, 
who  formed  the  worlds  and  all  that  dwell 
in  them — to  stand  before  infinite  majesty, 
and  purity,  and  justice — to  be  in  a  world  of 
spirits,  and  we  ourselves  also  to  be  spirits — 
to  hear  a  voice  consigning  us,  and  that  for- 
ever, to  happiness  we  have  never  yet  been 
able  to  conceive  of,  or  to  misery  that  even 
guilty  man,  in  his  wretchedness  here,  has 
never  known — who  is  not  bewildered  at  the 
thought  ?  And  yet  this  very  appearance 
before  God  we  must  experience  ;  this  be- 
wildering, overwhelming  thought  we  must 
realize.  There  is  no  prospect,  no  possi- 
bility, of  our  escaping  it.  We  shall  as 
surely  face  our  Judge  in  eternity,  as  we 
now  behold  one  another  here.  And  we 
may  be  called  on  to  face  him  in  an  instant. 
Our  soul  is  kept  from  returning  to  him — by 
what  ?  by  a  little  dust ;  by  a  body  so  frail, 
so  easily  dissolved,  and  liable  to  so  many 
dangers,  that  they  who  know  its  structure 
best,  wonder  the  most  that  it  holds  together 
for  an  hour. 

Brethren,  what  think  you  of  these  things? 
these  certain,  and  important,  and  probably 
near  events  which  are  coming  on  you  1 
Are  you  prepared  for  them  ?  Have  they 
occupied  your  attention,  and  interested  your 
feelings,  and  influenced  your  conduct? 
Hpve  tl-.ey  made  the  gospel  most  welcome 
to  you,   the   Saviour  most    precious,   the 


world  a  thing  of  naught  ?  If  not,  what  can 
we  say  to  you  ?  What  does  conscience 
say  ?     ''  Thou  fool !" 

There  is  something  awful  io  the  prospect 
of  eternity  even  to  the  man  who  has  been 
all  his  life  long  preparing  to  enter  it,  and 
who  knows  that,  in  any  world  or  in  any 
state,  he  is  safe  in  Christ.  This  very  day, 
as  he  has  thought  of  it,  he  has  prayed,  if 
not  trembled.  And  yet  you,  unprepared, 
unready,  are  at  ease.  There  is  something 
far  more  appalling  in  this  unconcern,  than 
in  any  scene  which  an  open  grave  could 
show.  That  is  the  triumph  of  sin  over  a 
heap  of  dust ;  this  is  its  triumph  over  an 
immortal  spirit.  And  if  this  victory  be  so 
dreadful  here,  in  a  world  of  mercy,  judge 
for  yourselves,  what  will  it  be  in  a  world  of 
wrath  ?  O  that  we  may  seek  of  the  living 
God  a  heart  to  fear  its  terrors  ! 

But  what  is  the  language  of  this  text  to 
the  faithful  servants  of  Christ  ?  It  says  to 
them.  Be  serious,  be  sober,  be  in  earnest. 
Sit  loose  to  the  world.  Think  much  of 
death.  Look  for  it.  Be  every  hour  pre- 
pared to  meet  your  God.  "  Let  your  loins 
be  girded  about,  and  your  lights  burning, 
and  ye  yourselves  like  unto  men  that  wait 
for  their  Lord." 

But  this  is  not  all.  Though  it  does  not 
speak  expressly  the  language  of  consolation, 
yet  it  reminds  us  of  many  things  that  ought 
to  cheer  us. 

True,  the  dust  must  "  return  to  the  earth 
as  it  was  ;"  and  we  may  be  content  to  let 
it  go  there.  Our  Bibles  tell  us  that  "  it  is 
a  vile  body,"  a  body  of  humiliation ;  and 
such  we  have  found  it.  Its  weakness  and 
disease  have  often  chilled,  and  fettered,  and 
clogged  our  souls  ;  and  what  have  its  lusts 
and  vile  affections  done  ?  They  have 
forced  us  to  hate  ourselves ;  they  have 
made  us  weep  and  groan.  And  shall  we 
repine  at  the  prospect  of  escaping  from  such 
a  body  as  this  ?  O  no,  not  if  we  were 
never  to  see  it  again.  But  we  shall  see  it 
again,  and  dwell  in  it  again.  To  the  earth 
it  must  go,  and  lie  there  for  a  time  in  dis- 
honor and  ruin  ;  but  what  says  the  scrip- 
ture ?  "  This  corruptible  shall  put  on  in- 
corruption,  this  mortal  shall  put  on  immor- 
tality." In  some  mysterious  manner,  thest 
frames  of  ours,  which  death  shall  break 
down,  and  worms  destroy,  and  winds  scat- 
ter— these  very  bodies  shall  be  raised ; 
they  shall  live  again,  as  really  and  aa 
vigorously  as  they  are  living  now.     The 


12 


THE  LABORERS  STANDING  IDLE. 


overthrown  and  polluted  tenement  shall  be 
rebuilt ;  but  no  more  an  earthly  taberna- 
cle. No  dust  shall  form  it.  It  shall  rise 
a  pure  and  spiritual  mansion,  fashioned  after 
the  similitude  of  that  glorious  temple,in  which 
the  Son  of  man  himself  dwells  and  reigns. 

As  for  your  spirit,  it  will  "  return  unto 
God  who  gave  it."  Before  your  body  is  in 
its  grave,  your  soul  shall  be  in  the  bosom 
of  its  Lord,  in  the  heaven  of  his  glory. 
This  shall  be  its  end.  And  this  end  is 
near  at  hand.  There  are  no  revolutions  of 
tedious  centuries  between  it  and  you.  A 
{ew  months,  at  the  most,  a  few  years,  will 
put  you  in  possession  of  all  that  the  God  of 
heaven  has  promised,  and  exceeding  abun- 
dantly above  all  that  your  most  towering 
hopes  have  desired. 

Repine  then  no  more  under  bodily  infirmi- 
ties. Regard  them,  if  you  will,  as  tokens  of 
your  dissolution,  and  as  preludes  to  the 
shroud  :  they  are  so  ;  but  what  are  they  be- 
sides ?  The  tokens  of  coming  glory  ;  the  pre- 
ludes of  an  approaching  deliverance  from  all 
pollution  and  all  sorrow  ;  the  forerunners  of 
a  meeting  between  you,  and  whom  ?  Patri- 
archs, and  prophets,  and  apostles  ?  Friends 
whom  you  have  loved  and  lost  ?  Yes  ;  and 
One  greater  and  more  beloved  than  all 
these.  You  shall  see  that  Jesus  who  is  all 
your  "  salvation  and  all  your  desire," 
whose  name  is  the  hope  of  all  the  ends  of 
the  earth,  and  whose  presence  is  the  glory 
of  heaven,  the  fulness  of  its  joy. 


SERMON    II. 

THE  LABORERS  STANDING  IDLE  AT  THE 
ELEVENTH  HOUR. 

St.  Matthew  xx.  6. 

About  the  eleventh  hour  he  went  out,  and  found 
others  standin^r  idle,  and  saith  unto  them,  Why 
stand  ye  here  all  the  day  idle  ? 

To  make  a  right  use  of  this  question,  we 
must  consider  it  as  addressed  by  the  great 
God  this  very  hour  to  ourselves.  And  tlms 
considered,  it  reminds  us  that  before  we 
die,  we  have  all  a  work  to  perform ;  that 
some  of  us  have  long  been  standing  idle, 
neglecting  this  work ;  and  that  this  ne- 
glect ought  to  become  at  once  a  subject 
of  our  most  serious  concern.     On  these 


facts  we  may  ground  three  questions,  which 
are  so  simple,  that  a  child  may  comprehend 
them  ;  and  yet  so  important,  that  he  is  the 
wisest  among  us,  who  thinks  of  them  the 
most. 

I.  The  first  is  this — What  is  the  work 
which  the  great  Lord  of  all  has  given  us  to 
do  ?  Under  the  figure  of  a  householder,  he 
calls  upon  us  to  work  in  his  vineyard.  And 
what  is  his  vineyard  ?  It  is  the  church  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  This,  whether  in  a 
suffering  or  a  glorified  state,  he  will  have  a 
scene  of  labor. 

If  we  look  at  it  in  heaven,  all  is  activity. 
Come  out  of  their  great  tribulation,  they 
who  have  died  in  the  Lord,  rest  from  the 
earthly  labors  that  wearied  them  ;  but  they 
are  not  unemployed  in  heaven.  They  are 
ever  "  before  the  throne  of  God,  and  serve 
him  day  and  night  in  his  temple." 

The  church  below  is  not  quiet.  O  what 
a  constant  striving,  what  an  unceasing  la- 
boring, is  going  on  there  !  Not  a  soul  can 
be  found  in  it,  that  is  not  engaged  in  a  work, 
compared  with  which  the  work  of  an  angel 
is  as  nothing.  We  are  sinners,  immortal 
beings  in  a  ruined  condition ;  and  it  is  in 
consequence  of  our  sin  and  ruin,  that  our 
labors  are  so  many  and  so  great.  We 
have  evils  to  repair,  for  which  all  the  hosts 
of  heaven  could  find  no  remedy,  and  obsta- 
cles to  surmount,  which  all  their  united 
strength  could  not  remove. 

1.  We  have  a  dreadful  hell  to  escape. 
We  were  born  its  heirs,  and  ever  since  we 
were  born,  our  sins  have  been  drawing  us 
towards  it,  and  making  it  more  securely 
our  own.  Our  first  concern  then  is  a  de- 
liverance, a  refuge  ;  our  first  business,  an 
escaping  for  our  life,  a  fleeing  from  the 
wrath  to  come ;  not  merely  a  smiting  on 
the  breast  with  one  sinner,  or  a  crying  out 
with  another,  "  What  must  I  do  to  be 
saved  ?"  but  a  laying  hold  of  salvation,  a 
casting  of  ourselves  on  him  who  "  came  in- 
to the  world  to  save  sinners."  A  man 
whose  habitation  is  in  flames  over  his  head, 
rests  not  satisfied  with  unavailing  cries  ;  he 
seeks  a  door,  a  way  of  escaj)o.  And  look  at 
the  mariner  as  his  vessel  sinks  in  the  waves. 
What  is  the  one  great  object  of  his  desires 
and  efforts  ?  It  is  the  means  of  deliverance 
— a  boat,  a  rope,  a  plank. 

2.  And  then  we  have  a  filthy  heart  to 
cleanse.  There  is  witliin  each  of  us  a 
swarm  of  living  lusts,  which  arc  preying  on 
us  and  defiling  us.    These  are  deeply  seated 


AT  THE  ELEVENTPI  HOUR. 


13 


in  the  soul.  They  were  born  with  it  and 
have  fjrown  with  it.  They  cling  to  the 
scul,  and  the  soul  clings  to  them.  They 
are  its  torment  and  its  curse,  but  yet  it 
loves  them  as  it  loves  nothing  else.  Here 
then  IS  a  work  before  us — to  discover,  to 
mortify,  to  kill  these  lusts ;  to  "  cleanse 
ourselves  from  all  fdthiness  of  the  flesh  and 
spirit ;  to  labor  on  a  heart  that  is  "  earthly, 
sensual,  and  devilish,"  till  grace  has  made 
it  spiritual,  heavenly,  and  divine. 

3.  And  as  though  this  were  not  enough, 
we  have  a  svjfcrin^  7vorId  to  aid. 

It  has  pleased  (4od  to  make  his  creatures 
the  instruments  of  his  goodness,  to  employ 
whatsoever  his  hands  have  formed  in  diffus- 
ing his  benefits.  The  sun,  moon,  and  stars, 
in  their  courses,  not  only  declare  his  glory, 
but  minister  to  our  wants.  The  beasts  of 
the  field  and  the  very  plants  of  the  grou  d 
are  all  useful.  We  too  must  be  usef  I. 
It  matters  not  how  precious  a  soul  we  ha  ,e 
to  save,  nor  how  polluted  a  heart  to  cleanse, 
nor  how  many  burdens  of  grief  to  bear ; 
we  must  think  of  the  souls,  and  hearts,  and 
burdens,  of  others ;  we  must  labor  to  help 
them  ;  we  must  "  serve  our  generation  ac- 
cording to  the  will  of  God."  True  reli- 
gion has  its  seat  deep  in  the  heart,  and  it 
loves  the  secrecy  of  its  home  ;  but  it  dares 
not  hide  itself  in  it.  It  has  a  labor  of  love 
to  perform  in  a  ruined  world.  Into  that 
world  it  goes,  and  strives  to  leave  all  it  can 
reach  there,  holier  and  happier  than  it  finds 
them. 

4.  But  we  must  look  higher  than  the 
worms  of  the  dust — we  have  a  great  God  to 
honor. 

Why  were  we  sent  into  the  world  ?  Why 
are  we  kept  in  the  world  ?  Merely  to  be 
defiled  by  its  pollutions,  and  to  be  worn  out 
by  its  cares  ?  No  ;  we  have  to  glorify  God 
in  a  world  that  dishonors  him  ;  to  praise 
him  where  he  is  blasphemed  ;  to  let  the 
light  he  has  given  us  "  so  shine  before  men," 
as  to  force  those  who  hate  him  to  do  him 
reverence.  Place  an  angel  in  hell,  how 
would  he  act  in  that  accursed  place  ?  For- 
get or  disguise  it  as  we  may,  our  situation 
and  our  duty  in  this  wicked  world  are  near- 
ly the  same.  We  have  to  be  faithful  sub- 
jects in  an  army  of  rebels,  to  serve  God  in 
the  dominions  of  Satan,  to  show  ourselves 
his  friends  among  his  determined  foes. 

5.  And  after  all,  we  have  a  glorious  heav- 
en to  win ;  to  gain  possession  of  a  worhl 
to  which  the  spotless  beings  who  inhabit  it 


have  no  claim,  and  from  which  we  are  dis- 
tant  as  far  as  guilt  can  sever  us  ;  a  world 
so  blessed,  that  eternity  only  can  unfold  its 
happiness,  and  so  pure,  that  one  unholy 
thought  would  banish  from  it  forever  the 
highest  archangel  there. 

This  is  the  work  before  us.  Say  not  in 
your  hearts  that  this  is  more  than  the  Lord 
our  God  requires  of  us.  Brethren,  it  is 
less.  Put  the  question  to  the  very  lowest 
of  the  servants  of  God  ;  ask  him  what  it  is 
that  "  his  hand  findeth  to  do  ;"  he  will  tell 
you  of  sins  to  be  mourned  over,  of  trials  to 
be  endured,  of  enemies  to  be  subdued,  of 
graces  to  be  attained,  of  many  things  to  be 
achieved  or  borne,  of  which  you  have  heard 
nothing  to-day,  and  which  perhaps  have 
never  entered  your  thoughts. 

But  judge  for  yourselves — which  of  the 
things  now  brought  before  you  may  a 
sinner  leave  undone,  and  be  safe  when  he 
dies  ?  Hell,  it  is  plain,  must  be  escaped. 
May  the  heart  then  be  left  alone  ?  "  VVith- 
out  holiness,"  says  the  scripture,  "  no  man 
shall  see  the  Lord;"  and  when  "the 
trumpet  shall  sound  and  the  dead  shall  be 
raised,"  this  is  one  of  the  awful  .sayings 
which  will  echo  through  the  skies,  "  He 
that  is  filthy,  let  him  be  filthy  still."  And 
what  if  we  turn  away  our  eyes  from  a  suf- 
fering world  ?  The  Lord  will  "  turn  away 
his  face  from  us."  Nay,  so  great  is  his 
compassion  for  the  wretched,  that  on  the 
throne  of  his  glory,  he  will  make  our 
forgetfulness  of  them  the  chief  ground  of 
our  condemnation ;  "  Verily,  I  say  unto 
you,  inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  not  to  one  of  the 
least  of  these,  ye  did  it  not  to  me."  "  De- 
part from  me,  ye  cursed."  And  then  shall 
we  "  go  away  into  everlasting  punishment." 
May  we  venture  to  leave  the  great  God 
without  his  honor?  He  tells  us  that  he 
will  "send  a  curse"  upon  them  that  "give 
not  glory  to  his  name."  And  if  heaven  be 
not  won,  no  hope  remains  ;  the  soul  is  lost ; 
there  is  no  home  for  it  but  the  habitations 
of  darkness. 

Search  the  scriptures,  brethren.  In  a 
concern  of  such  moment  as  this,  it  matters 
but  little  what  ministers  say,  or  friends  tell 
you,  or  your  own  hearts  think  ;  "  God  is 
the  Judge."  He  will  "try  every  man's 
work  at  the  last,"  and  he  will  try  it  by  the 
standard  of  his  own  word.  Where  then 
shall  we  go  to  learn  what  is  required  of  us  ? 
Who  shall  decide  the  matter?  our  Bibles, 
or  our  neighbors  ?  we,  or  our  God  ? 


14 


THE  LABORERS  STANDING  IDLE 


II.  Let  us  now  pass  on  to  a  second  in- 
quiry—  Who  arc  they  that  neglect  the  work 
which  God  has  given  them  to  do  1  In  a 
limited  sense,  we  all  neglect  it ;  but  this  is 
not  tlie  point  we  have  to  ascertain.  Who 
among  us  are  altogether,  in  the  full  sense 
of  the  words,  standing  idle  here  ? 

In  answer  to  this  question,  we  need  not 
say  one  word  of  the  great  mass  of  the 
worldly  and  careless.  Their  sad  neglect 
of  every  thing  which  ought  to  occupy  them, 
is  as  clear  as  it  is  tremendous.  Let  us  go 
amongst  those  who  profess  to  be  spiritually 
employed,  and  endeavor  to  point  out  the 
idlers  there.  And  these,  in  almost  every 
case,  are  distinguished  by  one  of  these  three 
marks  ; — 

1.  They  are  more  anxious  ahout  other 
things,  than  they  are  ahout  this  great  work. 
I  do  not  say  that  they  care  nothing  about  it, 
or  that  it  never  gives  them  any  concern  ; 
but  their  thoughts  of  it  are  occasional  and 
slight  ;  called  forth  perhaps  by  a  sermon 
or  an  affliction,  and  passing  away  as  soon 
as  the  affliction  is  over  or  the  sermon  for- 
gotten. Other  things  affect  them  more,  are 
more  frequently  the  objects  of  tlieir  hopes 
and  fears,  and  afford  them  greater  pleasure 
or  pain.  Even  when  the  concerns  of  their 
souls  are  brought  before  them,  and  they  are 
willing  to  give  them  some  degree  of  atten- 
tion, they  find  it  hard  to  keep  their  minds 
fixed  on  them;  heaven  easily  gives  place 
to  the  world,  and  eternity,  with  all  its  fear- 
ful realities,  is  lost  sight  of  in  some  passing 
thought  about  the  cares,  or  sorrows,  or 
pleasures  of  time. 

Now  if  this  be  the  case  with  us,  if  we 
are  more  "  careful  and  troubled"  about  any 
one  thing,  or  about  all  things  together,  than 
we  are  about  heaven  and  hell,  we  are  the 
men  who  are  spiritual  idlers.  A  sinner 
working  for  salvation  is  a  man  of  one  pur- 
suit, one  aim  and  purpose.  He  has  heard 
his  Master  say,  "  One  thing  is  needful," 
and  he  believes  him.  lie  can  say  with 
David,  "  One  thing  have  I  desired  of  the 
Lord  ;"  and  with  Paul,  "  One  thing  I  do." 

2.  They  are  also  strangers  to  this  work, 
who  find  no  difficuhy  in  it. 

Su|)poso,  brethren,  you  liad  carried  a 
heavy  burden  many  a  weary  mile.  Faint 
with  your  labor,  you  stand  still  f  )r  a  while 
to  rest.  A  fellow-traveller  comes  up  to 
you,  and  while  he  affects  to  pity  your  weari- 
ness, he  tells  you  that  so  much  effort  is  very 
unnecessary ;    that  he   himself  has   often 


borne  the  same  burden  now  on  \o\it  shoul- 
ders, without  difficulty  or  toil.  You  find, 
however,  in  conversation  with  him,  that  he 
is  utterly  unacquainted  with  the  weight  of 
the  load.  Though  no  stronger  than  you, 
he  speaks  of  it  as  light,  while  you  feel  it 
almost  pressing  you  into  the  earth.  Now 
what  should  you  think  of  such  a  man  ? 
You  would  naturally  say,  "  He  deceives 
himself,  or  he  wishes  to  deceive  me.  He 
has  never  carried  this  burden  a  yard." 

Come  now  to  the  case  before  us.  Some 
of  you  say,  "  Why  is  religion  made  so 
much  of?  Why  cannot  we  do  our  duty 
and  go  to  heaven,  without  the  continued 
praying  and  striving,  on  which  this  or  that 
minister  dwells  so  often  ?  We  are  told  of 
the  difficulties  of  religion,  but  we  find  little 
or  no  difficulty  in  it.  It  gives  us  no  trou- 
ble. We  are  able  to  attend  to  all  its  duties 
without  the  least  care  or  effort."  Is  this 
your  language  ?  Then  be  assured  that 
you  could  not  tell  us  in  plainer  terms,  that 
you  are  standing  idle  in  the  church  of  God  ; 
that,  in  your  case,  the  salvation  of  the  soul 
is  not  even  begun ;  that  you  have  never 
yet  taken  one  step  towards  heaven.  Diffi- 
culty,  insufficiency,  helplessness — these  are 
some  of  the  very  first  things  of  which  a 
really  converted  sinner  is  conscious,  and  all 
his  life  long  the  sense,  the  feeling  of  them 
never  goes  off.  And  to  what  does  it  lead 
him  ?  To  the  earnestness,  the  striving,  the 
prayer,  which  you  despise.  The  man  sees 
that  he  has  much  to  do  before  his  soul  can 
be  saved,  and  he  feels  that  he  can  do  noth- 
ing. He  finds  himself  in  the  situation  of  a 
traveller  who  has  many  rugged  wilds  to 
traverse  before  he  can  reach  his  home, 
many  a  long  hill  to  climb,  and  many  a 
dreary  valley  to  cross  ;  and  yet  without  the 
power  of  moving  a  single  step.  You  need 
not  be  told  what  follows.  In  such  a  situa- 
tion, a  man  must  pray,  must  be  going  to 
the  Holy  Spirit  every  hour  for  strength, 
must  live  every  moment  in  Christ.  All  the 
days  of  his  life,  his  language  will  be, 
"  Lord,  help  me."  "  Lord,  save  me.'" 
"  Hold  thou  up  my  goings  in  thy  paths." 
"  Take  not  thine  Holy  Spirit  from  me." 
And  what  will  be  his  language  as  he  en- 
tors  heaven  1  "  Not  by  works  of  righteous- 
ness which  I  have  done,  but  according  to 
his  mercy,  he  hath  saved  me."  "  Not  un- 
to  me,  not  unto  me,  O  Lord,  but  unto  thy 
name  be  the  j)raise." 

3.  But  there  are  idlers  of  another  class — 


AT  THE  ELEVENTH  HOUR. 


15 


those  whom  the  difficulty  of  this  work  keeps 
from  attempting  it. 

The  eyes  of  these  men  have  been  opened. 
They  know  what  is  to  be  done  ;  they  are 
not  ignorant  of  the  obstacles  which  must  be 
overcome  in  doing  it.  Perhaps  thov  liave 
felt  .them.  There  may  have  been  a  time, 
when  they  actually  set  about  the  work  of 
their  salvation  ;  but  they  began  it  in  their 
own  strength,  and  when  difhculties  arose, 
that  strength  at  once  gave  way,  and  they 
were  discouraged.  They  are  now  at  rest. 
Thev  understand  something  of  the  gospel  ; 
they  are  willing  to  hear  it ;  they  are  some- 
times impressed  by  it ;  now  and  then  they 
are  ready  to  make  a  feeble  effort  to  secure 
its  mercies;  but  this  is  all.  There  is  no 
earnestness,  no  striving  or  wrestling,  about 
them.  Their  religion  is  a  body  without  a 
soul,  a  machine  without  a  spring.  They 
go  on  for  years  hearing,  reading,  thinking 
about  heaven,  but  doing  nothing,  and  at- 
tempting nothing.  And  why  ?  It  is  use- 
less, they  say.  The  work  is  more  than 
they  can  ever  perform.  If  they  are  ever 
saved,  it  must  be  by  the  mercy  of  One  who 
can  make  excuses  for  their  weakness,  and 
not  call  them  to  a  strict  account  for  their 
sloth.  Or  perhaps  they  have  learned  a 
different  language  ; — "  It  is  in  vain  for  us 
to  pray  and  strive.  We  can  do  nothing. 
We  must  wait  till  God  moves  us." 

In  either  case,  the  truth  is  clear.  The 
mixture  of  sloth  and  despondency  which  we 
find  in  these  men,  stamps  their  character — 
they  are  standing  idle.  For  in  what  does 
true  religion  consist  ?  Surely  this  is  a  part 
of  it — a  knowledge  of  the  remedy  provided 
for  our  disease — a  calling  in  to  our  aid  of 
the  strength  provided  for  our  weakness — a 
discovery  of  the  suitableness,  the  all-suffi- 
ciency, the  abounding  grace,  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Hope  in  him  is  as  much  a  part  of  it,  as  dis- 
trust of  self.  It  may  indeed  be  a  fluctua- 
ting, perhaps  a  feeble  hope,  but  still  real, 
operative,  constraining.  What  says  the 
mere  pretender  to  godliness  ?  "I  must 
stand  still.  I  must  wait  for  the  Spirit." 
But  what  says  the  true  disciple  of  Ciirist  ? 
He  thinks  of  his  glorified  Lord,  and  says, 
"  What  wait  I  for  ?  My  hope  is  in  him.  I 
am  nothing  but  weakness  ;  but  he  is  the 
Lord  Jehovah,  and  in  him  is  everlasting 
strength.  He  has  told  me  that  his  grace  is 
sufficient  for  me,  and  never  yet  have  I  tried 
it  but  I  have  found  it  sufficient.  It  has  car- 
ried me  over  every  difficulty,  beaten  down 


under  me  every  enemy,  overccjne  every 
temptation,  restrained  every  sin,  made  me 
happy  in  every  trouble.  I  know  that  of 
myself  I  can  do  nothing,  but  I  know  also 
that  I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ 
which  strengtheneth  me."  And  then  this 
determined  believer  presses  onward  to 
heaven,  as  though  he  would  "  take  it  by 
force." 

All  these  then  are  manifestly  and  alto- 
gether  standing  idle — the  great  multitude 
of  the  openly  careless,  and,  among  those 
who  make  some  pretensions  to  religion, 
such  as  experience  no  anxiety,  no  difficulty, 
no  hope  ;  in  other  words,  the  worldly-mind- 
ed, the  self-sufficient,  and  the  desponding. 

III.  Has  conscience,  brethren,  placed  you 
in  either  of  these  classes  ?  Has  it  said  to 
you  as  you  have  heard  any  one  of  them  de- 
scribed, "  Thou,  art  the  man?"  Then  do 
not  try  to  silence  its  voice.  Do  not  treat 
the  neglect  of  which  it  accuses  you,  as  a 
thing  of  small  moment.  Go  on  with  me  to 
ask  one  question  more — In  what  light  ought 
ive  to  view  this  neglect  ? 

It  is  plain  that  God  regards  it  as  a  very 
serious  matter.  He  makes  it  now  a  sub- 
ject of  inquiry  and  reproof;  and  what 
will  he  make  it,  when  he  comes  in  the  end 
to  take  account  of  his  servants  ?  That  is 
no  trifle,  which  the  vast  mind  of  an  infinite 
(lod  deems  important ;  and  that  can  be  no 
liglit  thing,  which  ruins  an  immortal  soul. 
A  very  little  consideration  will  show  us, 
that  the  neglect  of  the  great  work  of  salva- 
tion, is  a  neglect  which  ought  to  excite  in 
us  surprise,  grief,  and  alarm. 

1 .  It  is  a  matter  of  surprise  ;  f^ir  con- 
sider  the  place  in  which  you  arc  thus  idle. 
"  Why  stand  ye  here  idle  ?"  said  the  house- 
holder ;  "  here,  in  the  market-place  ;  here, 
where  there  is  so  much  to  be  done,  and 
your  services  have  so  often  been  called  for?" 
The  laborers  had  an  excuse.  No  man, 
they  said,  had  hired  them.  But  we  have» 
no  excuse.  We  have  all  been  called  to 
our  labor.  It  is  not  in  the  heart  of  a  hea- 
then land  that  we  are  idle ;  it  is  not  in  a 
country  buried  in  popish  darkness ;  it  is 
not  in  a  parish  where  hell  and  heaven  are 
seldom  mentioned.  You  are  living  in 
Cliristian  England,  in  a  land  of  Bibles  and 
churches.  You  are  in  a  Christian  parish. 
You  have  long  had  ministers  to  warn  you. 
They  have  come  to  you  as  messengers  from 
God.  One  afler  another,  they  have  be- 
sought   you  "  to   flee   from    the  wrath  to 


16 


THE  LABORERS  STANDING  IDLE. 


come  ;"  and  when  you  would  not  hear,  they 
have  besought  you  again,  and  have  pointed 
out  to  you  the  way  of  escape  which  sover- 
eign mercy  has  opened.  And  you,  bre- 
thren, are  motionless ;  no  nearer  heaven, 
than  you  were  in  the  morning  of  life ;  and 
no  more  laboring  to  attain  it,  than  the 
darkest  heathen. 

2.  This  neglect  is  a  matter  of  ^rze/"  also. 
Think  of  the  time  which  you  have  lost.  It  is 
with  some  of  you  the  eleventh  hour  of  life. 
Old  age  plainly  tells  you  this.  And  how 
has  your  long  day  been  passed  ?  Painful  as 
the  question  is,  put  it  closely  to  yourselves  ; 
force  conscience  to  give  you  a  faithful  an- 
swer to  it.  Go  back  to  your  infancy ; 
bring  before  you  the  days  of  your  youth  ; 
retrace  the  years  of  your  manhood  ;  look 
ut  your  life  from  the  earliest  period  which 
memory  can  reach,  to  the  present  hour — 
what  is  it  ?  A  dream,  a  blank.  What 
have  you  done  in  it?  Nothing.  What 
have  you  left  undone  ?  Every  thing  which 
'a  dying  sinner  would  wish  to  have  accom- 
plished. 

Consider  too  how  actively  and  happily 
these  years  loliich  you  have  lost,  have  been 
employed  by  others.  While  these  laborers 
were  standing  idle  till  the  eleventh  hour, 
others,  at  different  periods  of  the  day,  had 
been  called  into  the  vineyard,  and  were 
now  at  work  there.  And  what  has  been 
passing  around  you,  while  you  have  been 
leaving  the  great  business  of  life  neglected  ? 
The  Lord,  at  different  times,  has  laid  his 
hand  of  mercy  on  some  who  were  once, 
like  yourselves,  thoughtless  and  idle  :  and 
where  are  they  now  ?  Where  are  the  com- 
panions of  your  childhood,  and  the  friends 
of  your  youth  ?  Some  of  them  are  rejoic- 
ing in  heaven  ;  and  others,  whilst  you  are 
sinking  under  the  ills  of  life,  are  rejoicing 
on  earth  ;  praising  God  in  their  troubles, 
and  even  blessing  him  for  them ;  longing 
for  the  very  death  of  which  you  can  hardly 
bear  to  think,  and  thirsting  to  see  that  Sa- 
viour before  whom  perhaps  you  dread  to 
stand.  O  how  blessed  is  the  state  of  thou- 
sands of  your  fellow-sinners,  while  yours  is 
becoming  sadder  and  darker  every  hour ! 

And  why  is  this  ?  Have  those  men 
robbed  you  of  your  birthright  ?  Have  they 
exhausted  the  pardoning  love  of  Christ  ? 
Have  their  once  hard  hearts  worn  out  the 
softening,  and  purifying,  and  comforting 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  Have  they  filled 
all   the  mansions  of  heaven  ?     No.     The 


way  to  pardon  and  peace  has  been  as  open 
for  you,  as  for  them  ;  it  is  as  open  still :  but 
the  difference  lies  here — while  you  have 
trifled,  they  have  prayed  ;  while  you  have 
only  heard  of  Christ,  they  have  sought  him  ; 
while  you  have  labored  for  to-day  and  to- 
morrow, they  have  labored  for  eternity. 
And  they  have  not  labored  in  vain  ;  they 
have  won  the  glorious  heaven  at  which  they 
aimed.  But  what  have  you  won  ?  What 
is  the  fruit  of  all  your  toils  in  the  hard  and 
cruel  bondage  in  which  the  world  has  kept 
you  ?  One  word  will  describe  it  all ;  it  is 
vanity.  Nay,  it  is  less,  it  is  worse,  than 
vanity.  This  is  the  sum  of  it — "  vexation 
of  spirit,"  bitterness  of  soul. 

3.  But  we  must  not  .stop  here.  Bad  as 
the  past  appears,  the  future  is  worse. — 
There  is  cause  for  alarm  in  the  mournful 
neglect  of  which  you  have  been  guilty. 
Look  forward  to  its  consequences.  In  the 
concerns  of  the  soul,  neglect  is  ruin,  idle- 
ness is  destruction.  The  man  who  says  to 
his  soul,  "  Take  thine  ease,"  will  find  ease 
gone  from  him  forever,  when  his  .soul  is 
required  of  him.  He  may  say,  "  I  have 
done  no  harm."  These  loiterers  in  the 
market-place  had  done  no  harm,  yet  they 
were  reproved.  The  unprofitable  servant 
in  another  parable  had  done  no  harm;  he 
had  been  upright  and  honest ;  hxn  he  war 
cast  "  into  outer  darkness,  where  there  is 
weeping,  and  wailing,  and  gnashing  of 
teeth." 

,  And  these  consequences  are  as  near  as 
they  are  certain.  VVhere  are  you  stand- 
ing ?  Whither  have  "  the  few  and  evil 
days"  of  your  life  brought  you  ?  There 
may  be  a  span,  a  few  short  5teps,  between 
death  and  some  of  your  fellow-sinners,  but 
you  are  on  the  very  brink  of  the  grave,  on 
the  borders  of  eternity.  And  is  this  a  situa- 
tion for  repose  ?  Is  this  a  time  for  stupid 
unconcern  or  silly  triffing  ?  for  wearing  out 
the  little  strength  which  is  left  you,  in 
caring  and  planning  for  the  world  ?  for  a 
world  which  you  arc  on  the  point  of  leaving 
forever,  and  which  you  have  often  wished 
you  had  never  seen  ? 

O  my  aged  brethren,  you  who  have  been 
spending  a  long  life  in  vanity  and  all  your 
years  in  trouble,  let  me  implore  you  not  to 
rest  satisfied  with  unavailing  regrets  about 
the  past ;  look  forward  to  that  which  is  be- 
fore you.  Think  of  increasing  infirmities, 
of  an  opening  grave,  of  a  descending  Judge, 
of  a  dark  eternity.    A  night  is  closing  round 


AT  THE  ELEVENTH  HOUR. 


17 


you,  in  o-hicfi  no  man  can  work.  Think  of 
it,  and  as  vou  t/nnk  of  it,  hoar  tlio  vpry 
same  voicf  that  said  to  you  in  tlie  morning 
of  lif(\  "Son,  •fo  work  to-day  in  my  vine- 
yard.'' now  sayinji  to  you,  "  Why  stand  ye 
horr-  all  tlie  day  idle?" 

What  is  your  answer  ?  Do  you  say, 
"  What  answer  can  we  make  ?  Our  sins 
are  so  many,  our  had  hahits  so  confirmed, 
our  minds  so  weak,  our  souls  so  completely 
dead,  there  is  no  help,  no  hope,  for  us. 
What  grace  can  change  an  old  man's 
heart  ?  What  mercy  can  save  an  old 
man's  soul  ?"  Brethren,  are  you  really 
anxious  to  have  your  heart  changed  ?  Arc 
you  heartily  willing  to  have  your  immortal 
spirit  saved  ?  Then  turn  once  again  to  this 
parable.  At  the  eleventh  hour,  these  la- 
borers were  admitted  into  the  vineyard  ;  at 
the  eleventh  hour,  they  began  their  work  ; 
and  wIkmi  the  evening  came,  they  had  their 
reward.  Here  then  is  encouragement  for 
you.  f  lerc  then  is  a  warrant  for  assuring 
you  that  your  day  of  salvation  is  not  yet 
ended  ;  that  there  is  grace  which  can  renew, 
and  mercy  which  can  save,  and  goodness 
which  can  bless  you  ;  that  all  the  unsearch- 
able riches  of  Christ  are  yet  within  your 
reach.  But  you  must  be  in  earnest.  There 
must  be  no  hesitation  or  delay.  The  work 
is  tot3  great,  and  the  time  too  short,  to  admit 
of  it.  If  you  are  ever  saved,  you  must  be 
saved  promptly,  quickly  ;  just  as  a  brand  is 
saved  from  the  flames  which  are  already 
surrounding  it;  you  must  be  "snatched 
from  the  burning." 

There  is  in  fact  only  one  thing  which 
men  in  your  situation  can  do — cast  your- 
selves on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  as  those 
who  feel  that'without  him  they  can  do  no- 
thing. Make  him  at  once  your  hope,  and 
your  onlv  hope.  "  His  blood  cleansoth  from 
all  sin;"  his  grace  is  sufficient  for  every 
sinner:  his  righteousness  is  "unto  all  and 
upon  all  them  that  believe  ;"  he  is  "  able  to 
save  them  to  the  uttermost,  that  come  unto 
God  by  him."  Believe  these  gracious  de- 
clarations ;  and  then  instead  of  ending  your 
days  with  the  complaint  of  despairing  Is- 
rael, "  Wo  unto  us,  for  the  day  goeth 
away,  for  the  shadows  of  the  evening  are 
stretched  out !"  every  trembling  sinner 
amonijst  you  may  take  up  the  language  of 
the  happy  Simeon,  bless  God  and  say, 
"  Lord,  now  lette.st  thou  thy  servant  depart 
3 


in  peace  according  to  thy  word,  for  mine 
eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation." 

To  those  who  arc  indeed  the  servants  cf 
God,  this  scripture  is  not  useless.  You  are 
in  the  vineyard  of  Chri.st ;  you  have  been 
there  perhaps  for  many  years ;  but  how 
came  you  there  ?  Whatever  were  the  out- 
ward means  which  led  you  thither,  or  what- 
ever the  time  when  they  were  made  ef- 
fectual, it  was  "  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,"  which  separated  you  from 
an  ungodly  world,  and  made  you  laborers 
for  heaven.  It  is  the  same  grace,  that 
keeps  you  from  forsaking  the  work  which 
you  have  begun.  You  are  working  out 
your  salvation,  solely  because  God  in  his 
mercy  continues  to  "  work  in  you  both  to 
will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure." 

"  Where  is  boasting  then  ?  It  is  ex. 
eluded."  The  pride  of  your  hearts  can 
find  nothing  to  rest  in.  The  simple  ques- 
tion, "  W^ho  made  thee  to  difler  ?"  lays  it 
low.  And  what  a  crowd  of  feelings  rise 
up  one  after  another  in  its  place !  Won- 
der, joy,  love,  praise,  and  perhaps,  stronger 
than  all,  self-abasement  and  shame !  To 
be  idle  in  the  market-place  is  sad,  but  we 
have  often  stood  idle  in  the  vineyard. 
Amidst  the  weighty  cares,  the  awful 
realities,  which  occupy  the  church  of 
Christ,  we  have  been  taken  up  with  lying 
vanities,  the  trifles  of  an  hour.  We  need 
pardon  for  the  past,  as  much  as  the  guiltiest 
of  our  brethren  ;  and  grace  for  the  future, 
as  much  as  the  weakest.  Let  us  seek 
them.  And  while  seeking  them,  let  us  look 
forward  to  the  time  when  our  present  la- 
bors  will  come  to  an  everlasting  end. 
"  The  time  is  short."  A  few  more  toils  and 
conflicts  will  bring  us  to  the  evening  of  our 
wearisome  day.  We  shall  rest  then  from  its 
"  heat  and  burden."  We  shall  stand  in  the 
presence  of  the  great  Lord  of  the  vineyard. 
Before  his  Father  and  his  holy  angels,  he 
will  give  us  the  reward  which  his  own  blood 
has  purchased,  his  own  labors  have  pre- 
pared, and  his  own  power  secured.  And 
who  can  estimate  its  worth  ?  It  is  so  great, 
that  while  it  puts  honor  on  the  unworthy 
sinners  who  receive  it,  it  brings  glory  to 
the  e.xalted  Being  who  bestows  it.  It  is  no- 
thing less  than  "the  joy  of  our  Lord,"  a 
share  in  that  blessedness  which  satisfies  aa 
infinite  God. 


18 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  HEAVENLY  TEMPLE. 


SERMON    III. 

THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  HEAVENLY 
TEMPLE. 

1  Kings  vi.  7. 

The  house.,  when  it  was  in  buildinfr,  was  built  of 
stone  made  ready  before  it  was  brought  thither  ; 
so  that  there  ivas  neither  hammer,  nor  axe,  nor 
any  tool  of  iron,  heard  in  the  house  v)hile  it 
was  in  building. 

The  house  built  in  this  mysterious  si- 
lence, was  the  first  temple  at  Jerusalem. 
Of  all  earthly  objects,  this,  to  the  ancient 
.Tew,  was  the  most  sacred  and  dear.  If  he 
loved  his  God,  it  was  the  scene  of  his  sweet- 
est joys.  If  he  loved  him  not,  he  loved  his 
temple.  It  was  the  subject  of  his  earliest 
impressions  ;  he  saw  in  it  a  memorial  of  the 
past  history  and  honors  of  his  nation ;  he 
looked  on  it  as  a  magnificent  display  of  his 
country's  wealth.  It  was  his  glory,  and 
he  made  it  his  pride.  We  accordingly  find 
the  recollection  of  it  associated  in  his  mind 
with  every  thing  he  deemed  excellent  and 
great. 

The  men  who  wrote  the  scriptures,  par- 
took of  this  feeling.  Would  they  raise  the 
ibeliever  in  Jesus  to  his  highest  honor  ? 
"  Know  ye  not,"  says  one,  "  that  ye  are 
the  temple  of  God  ?"  Would  they  describe 
;the  church  in  her  brightest  glory  ?  She  is 
repre  (.ited  as-"  an  holy  temple"  dedicated 
to  her  .odeeming  Lord. 

An  '.  where  does  this  new  and  living  tem- 
ple stand  1  Let  us  look  at  it  as  resting  on 
its  everlasting  foundation  in  the  lofty  heav- 
ens. There  its  walls  have  long  been  ris- 
ing ;  there  "  the  whole  building,  fitly  framed 
together,  groweth  ;"  there,  in  the  end,  will 
all  hs  grandeur  be  displayed.  The  subject 
befoi'c  us,  tlien,  is  a  view  of  the  redeemed 
church  as  a  temple  now  building  by  God  in 
an  eternal  world. 

I.  In  thus  contemplating  it,  look,  first,  at 
the  malcriah  of  which  il.  is  composed.  And 
what  are  they  ?  They  came  to  it  from  a 
very  far  country.  Heaven  itself  could  not 
supply  them.  In  themselves,  they  are 
worthless;  but  the  means  which  have  been 
•employed  to  remove  them  hither,  have  made 
them  precious.  They  are  an  innumerable 
multitude  of  sinners,  brouglit  from  the  fallen 
world  on  which  we  are  standing — materials 
strange  indeed  to  bo  employed  in  such  a 
place,    but  better  suited    than    any   other, 


to  manifest  the  wisdom  and  power  ol 
God. 

They  are  well  described  as  "  stones  made 
ready."  A  stone,  in  its  original  state,  is 
rough  and  unshapen,  incapable  of  separa- 
ting Itself  from  its  native  rock,  and  even  if 
separated,  unfit  for  the  workman's  use.  It 
may  serve  for  the  wall  of  a  mean  structure  ; 
but  the  builder  of  a  temple  will  not  touch  it. 
And  this  is  precisely  our  natural  state.  It 
was  once  the  state  of  all  the  redeemed. 
Isaiah  tells  us  so.  "  Look,"  he  says,  "  un- 
to the  rock  whence  ye  were  hewn  ;  and  to 
the  hole  of  the  pit,"  or  the  quarry,  "  whence 
ye  were  digged  ;"  implying,  that  as  the 
rude  stone  not  only  belongs  to  the  rock,  but 
forms  a  part  of  it,  so  they  who  are  now  in 
heaven,  not  only  once  lived  in  a  world  of 
sinners,  but  were  themselves  sinners ;  in- 
volved in  the  same  darkness,  guilt,  and 
misery,  as  ourselves ;  ignorant  of  the  glo- 
rious end  to  which  they  were  destined,  and 
incapable  of  contributing  the  least  to  its  ac- 
complishment. They  might  serve  the  pur- 
poses of  this  lower  world,  be  useful  and 
even  ornamental  in  it ;  but  there  was  no 
place  for  them  in  heaven.  They  would 
have  sullied  its  purity,  and  defaced  its 
beauty. 

But  a  blessed  change  at  length  trans- 
formed them.  These  stones  were  "  made 
ready"  for  a  glorious  building  ;  these  sense- 
less, mean,  sinful  beings  were  prepared  for 
heaven.  And  the  work  was  God's.  He 
selected  them,  chose  them  out  from  among 
their  fellow-sinners,  and  then  formed  them 
a  people  for  himself.  Putting  into  their 
hearts  his  Holy  Spirit,  he  did  what  none 
other  could  accomplish — he  rent  them  and 
the  world  asunder  ;  separated  them  from  it ; 
made  them  weary  of  it  and  unlike  it; 
taught  them  to  look  higher,  to  think  of  heav- 
en and  seek  it ;  and  then,  by  a  series  of 
providences,  by  disappointments,  and  tribu- 
lations, and  conflicts,  by  consolations  and 
mercies,  by  motives  drawn  from  his  love, 
and  hopes  and  fears  resting  on  his  word, 
he  made  them  meet  for  the  employments 
and  joys  of  heaven  ;  he  prepared  them  for 
glory.  They  are  now  "  without  spot,  or 
blemish,  or  any  such  thing."  I'^ven  in  His 
sight  who  "  chargeth  his  angels  with  folly," 
they  are  "all  glorious  within,"  all  splendid 
without.  The  exterior  of  his  earthly  tem- 
ple at  Jerusalem  was  of  polished  marble  ;  it 
glittered,  we  are  told,  with  a  snowy  white- 
ness, and  nothing  was  seen  within  but  cedar 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  HEAVENLY  TEMPLE. 


19 


end  gold :  but  as  for  his  lieavcnly  house, 
he  calls  its  walls  "  Salvation,"  and  its  gates 
"  Praise." 

And  here,  brethren,  stands  revealed  that 
truth,  \\hich  every  view  that  we  can  take 
of  heaven  eonfirms,  "  Ye  must  be  born 
again."  You  must  be  wrought  on,  changed, 
sanctified,  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  or  never  see 
your  God.     And  this  work  must  be  done 


ere  you  «!ie. 


The  stones  were  made  ready, 


not  in  this  house,  but  "  before  they  were 
brought  thither."  No  axes  nor  hammers 
were  found  there  to  prepare  them.  Nor 
are  any  means  of  grace  to  be  found  beyond 
the  skies.  There  no  preacher  warns,  no 
afflictions  soften,  no  patient  Saviour  entreats, 
no  Spirit  strives.  Thousands  of  sinners 
have  been  glorified  in  eternity,  but  not  one 
converted,  not  one  sanctified,  not  one  pardon- 
ed. The  ground  you  are  standing  on,  is  the 
only  ground  in  the  universe,  on  which  the  sin- 
ful can  be  made  fit  for  heaven.  Leave  it  in 
love  whhthe  world  and  sin,  not  .separated,  not 
made  ready,  and  as  surely  as  the  only  book 
which  brings  "  immortality  to  light,"  is  true, 
you  will  be  cast  aside  by  the  great  Lord  of 
all  as  a  mean,  polluted  thing,  not  meet  for 
his  use  ;  unfit  for  that  building  where  the 
glories  of  his  grace  are  seen,  and  suited 
only  for  that  dreadful  place  Mdiich  is  des- 
tined to  show  forth  the  terrors  of  his  wrath. 
Marvel  not  then  that  He  who  spake  as  never 
man  spake,  has  so  often  said  to  you,  "  Ye 
mu.st  be  born  again." 

II.  Let  us  look  now  at  the  foundation  of 
tills  heavenly  huilding.  And  how  wonder- 
fully adapted  is  this  to  the  materials  of 
which  it  is  composed  ! 

The  sinners  who  are  now  rejoicing  in 
glory,  had  another  world  once  given  them. 
It  was  a  good,  a  fair  and  happy  world :  but 
they  lost  it ;  at  least  they  lost  its  happiness, 
and  covered  it  with  misery  and  death. 
They  have  now  anotlier  kingdom  bestowed 
upon  them;  but  will  they  not  lo.se,  this  also  ? 
The  fallen  angels  once  po.sscssed  it ;  but, 
though  they  "excel  in  strength,"  they  kept 
it  not.  How  then  shall  worms  of  the  dust 
oe  safe  in  so  high  a  station  ?  The  same 
omnipotent  Being  who  redeemed  their  souls 
from  destruction,  and  formed  them  for 
heaven,  has  covenanted,  has  pledged  him- 
self, to  keep  them  secure  in  it  forever. 
He«ce,  if  we  speak  of  them  as  a  building, 
th*^  Holy  Spirit  testifies  of  him  as  the  foun- 
ds iion  on  which  it  stands.  He  is  its  chief 
'  -corner-stone,"  its  "sure  foundation;"  the 


support,  the  security,  the  immovable  resting- 
place  of  the  whole  fabric.  The  apo.stles 
and  prophets  are  indeed  spoken  of  as  its 
foundation,  but  only  becau.se  they  bear  tes- 
timony to  Chri.st ;  because  they  all  unite  in 
this  saying,  "  Other  foundation  can  no  man 
lav,  than  that  is  laid,  which  is  Jesus 
Christ." 

He  sustains  this  relation  now  to  the 
church  on  earth,  and  he  is  as  ready  in  his 
love,  as  able  in  "  the  greatness  of  his 
strength,"  to  bear  the  weiglit  ofthe  far  loftier 
and  wider  church  above.  He  does  bear  it. 
There  is  not  a  happy  spirit  in  his  kingdom, 
who  does  not  depend  on  him  for  every  mo- 
ment of  blessedness  he  enjoys.  It  is  he, 
who  preserves  him  from  the  enemies  that 
hara.ssed  him  below.  It  is  his  grace,  which 
keeps  his  robes  so  white,  his  palm  so  green, 
his  crown  so  glorious.  And  it  will  always 
be  thus.  The  redeemed  will  ever  need  a 
support,  and  they  will  ever  find  one  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  The  convulsions  that 
shake  the  worlds  from  their  places,  will  not 
throw  down  a  pillar,  nor  even  loosen  a 
stone,  of  this  mighty  structure  ;  the  events 
of  eternity  will  not  move  it.  There  is  un- 
derneath it  a  living,  an  everlasting  Rock, 
on  which  it  is  not  only  built,  but  to  Mhich  it 
is  united.  It  is  in  it,  become  a  part  of  it ; 
so  that  it  can  no  more  be  torn  from  it,  than 
that  Rock  itself  can  be  shivered  and  de- 
stroyed. "  In  Jesus  Christ,"  says  Saint 
Paul,  "all  the  building  groweth."  "In 
him  ye  also  are  buildcd  together."  "  Be- 
cause I  live,"  says  the  eternal  Saviour  him- 
self, "  ye  shall  live  al:;0."  "  The  glory 
which  thou  gavest  me,"  said  he  to  his  Fa- 
ther, "  I  have  given  them,  that  they  may 
be  one,  even  as  we  are  one  :  I  in  them,  and 
thou  in  me,  that  they  may  be  made  perfect 
in  one." 

And  does  not  this  exercise  of  the  Re- 
deemer's grace  endear  him,  brethren,  to 
your  hearts  ?  It  endears  him  to  his  Father. 
Saint  Peter  speaks  of  him,  not  only  as 
"  chosen  of  God,"  but  "  precious"  to  him  ; 
and  why  ?  Because  he  is  the  "  chief  cor- 
ner-stone" of  his  spiritual  house.  There  is 
a  suitableness  in  him  for  -  his  oflice,  a  suffi- 
ciency, a  display  of  care,  and  love,  and 
strength,  which  delight  even  an  infinite 
God.  O  with  what  inconceivable  com- 
placency will  his  Father  si.f  of  him,  when 
he  looks  on  his  finished  work,  "  This 
is  my  beloved  Son,  ia  whom  1  ara  well 
I" 


20 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  HEAVENLY  TEMPLE. 


Ill  We  may  go  on  to  notice  the  manner 
in  which  this  temple  is  hui/l. 

1.  Like  almost  every  work  of  its  great 
Author,  it  is  accomplished  gradually.  The 
first  stone  of  it  was  laid  when  righteous 
Abel  found  himself  in  glory ;  and  since 
that  period,  another  and  another  has  been 
added,  according  to  the  good  pleasure  "  of 
him  who  worketh  all  things  after  the  coun- 
sel of  his  own  will." 

Sometimes  it  has  risen  slowly  ;  at  other 
times,  it  has  advanced  with  wonderful  ra- 
pidity ;  but,  at  all  times,  "  the  God  of  all 
grace"  has  been  employed  on  it,  so  that  the 
building  has  increased  in  height  and  glory 
through  all  generations.  In  the  present 
day,  the  Lord  is  hastening  his  work.  He  is 
"  adding  to  his  church  daily  such  as  shall 
be  saved  ;"  and  after  he  "has  made  them 
read)%  he  takes  them  from  this  his  earthly 
habitation,  and  fixes  them,  one  after  an- 
other, in  their  places,  in  his  fairer  temple 
above. 

Now  he  takes  one  from  this  congrega- 
tion, and  puts  him  in  the  place  designed  for 
him  ;  then  he  goes  to  another  people,  and 
finds  there  the  soul  that  is  to  shine  in  glory 
next.  At  one  period,  he  prepared  almost 
every  stone  from  one  pit ;  he  took  his  re- 
deemed chiefly  from  one  nation,  the  seed  of 
Abraham,  his  friend.  Now  he  goes  from 
country  to  country,  from  island  to  island, 
from  clime  to  clime  :  one  hour,  calling  to 
his  kingdom  asinner  of  Christian  England  : 
the  next,  saying  to  one  of  heathen  Africa, 
"  Come  thou  also  hither  ;"  now  bidding  an 
aged  pilgrim  "  depart  in  peace"  to  his  long 
wished  for  rest,  and  now  stooping  down,  and 
beai'ing  some  new-born  babe  to  an  unlooked 
for  glory.  He  says  to  the  north,  "  Give 
up  ;"  and  then  he  turns  to  the  south,  and 
says,  "  Keep  not  back.  Bring  my  sons 
from  far,  and  my  daughters  from  the  ends  of 
the  earth." 

2.  This  temple  is  building  also  constant- 
ly, steadily,  without  interruption  or  hinder- 
ance.  Earthly  structures  do  not  proceed 
thus.  Unf(M-eseen  difficulties  embarrass, 
and  unavoidable  delays  retard.  Sometimes 
the  design  of  the  builder  is  changed  ;  at 
other  times,  he  is  bafilcd  in  carrying  it  into 
efiect. 

It  is  not  so  however  when  God  builds. 
His  purposes  never  change  ;  they  can  never 
be  frustrated.  "  Before  the  mountains  were 
brought  forth,"  he  formed  the  stupendous 
plan  of  his  heavenly   house.     It  was  the 


work,  the  masterpiece,  of  his  infinite  skill  ; 
and  it  contains  "  treasures  of  wisdom  and 
knowledge,"  which  angels  cannot  explore 
nor  eternity  unfold.  The  directions  given 
for  the  Jewish  temple  were  minute  ;  but  in 
this  more  glorious  edifice,  nothing  was  over- 
looked. It  was  "  ordered  in  all  things." 
In  those  eternal  councils  of  which  human 
folly  may  speak,  but  concerning  which  hu-/ 
man  wisdom  can  form  not  one  faint  concep- 
tion, all  that  respects  the  salvation  of  the 
church  was  forever  established.  The  mean^ 
of  carrying  it  into  execution  ;  the  time  when 
its  Great  Author  should  be  revealed  ;  the 
sinners  who  should  attain  its  blessedness  ; 
the  station  they  should  each  occupy  below, 
and  the  place  they  should  fill  above  ;  the 
instruments  by  which  they  should  be  turned 
to  God ;  the  aftlictions  which  should  sub- 
due, and  the  consolations  which  should  re- 
fine them  ;  "  the  work  of  faith  and  labor 
of  love,"  which  they  should  perform  ; — all 
were  fixed  by  "  the  determinate  counsel  and 
foreknowledge  of  God,"  and  never  have 
they  known  alteration,  or  seen  the  shadow 
of  a  change. 

We  know  but  little  of  the  magnificence 
of  this  plan,  but  were  it  possible  that  it 
could  be  yet  more  vast,  we  know  that  there 
is  ability  in  Christ  to  perform  it  all.  His 
people,  though  more  numerous  than  the  stars 
of  heaven,  shall  all  "  be  willing  in  the  day 
of  his  power  ;"  and  as  for  his  enemies,  they 
can  no  more  impede  his  designs,  than  a 
host  of  worms  could  delay  the  rolling  of  the 
glorious  sun.  "  I  will  work,"  he  says, 
"  and  who  shall  let  it  ?  My  counsel  shall 
stand,  and  I  will  do  all  my  pleasure." 
And  what  is  this  pleasure  and  this  counsel  ? 
He  himself  informs  us ;  "I  bring  near  my 
righteousness;  it  shall  not  be  far  off:  and 
my  salvation  shall  not  tarry ;  and  I  will 
place  salvation  in  Zion  for  Israel,  my 
glory." 

3.  Thus  goes  the  building  on,  gradually, 
constantly  ;   but  yet,  all  this  time,  silently. 

Turn  again  to  the  Jewish  temple.  "  There 
was  neither  hamiuer,  nor  axe,  nor  any  tool 
of  iron,  heard  in  the  house  while  it  was  in 
building."  This  silence  has  something  in 
it  deeply  mysterious.  It  could  not  have 
happened  from  mere  chance.  It  was  un- 
doubtedly enjoined  by  God,  and  intended  to 
convey  some  important  truth.  The  ques- 
tion is,  What  is  that  truth  ?  and  this  is  not 
easily  answered. 

We  shall  not,  however,  material!^'  err,  if 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  HEAVENLY  TEMPLL. 


21 


we  say  that  tlic  stillness  with  which  the 
building  of  tho  temple  proceeded,  intimates, 
first,  the  unnoticed  and  secret  manner  in 
which  God  carries  on  his  purposes  of  grace 
in  a  tumuhuous  world. 

What  is  the  history  of  the  world  ?  A 
history  of  commotions.  Its  great  men  have 
seldom  moved,  but  "  confused  noise  and 
garments  rolled  in  blood"  have  marked 
their  footsteps.  Strifes  and  contentions  have 
been  necessary  for  the  accomplishment  of 
their  designs,  and  they  have  freely  raised 
them.  They  have  struggled  till  whole 
kingdoms  have  resounded  with  their  deeds, 
and  this  poor,  distracted  earth  has  resem- 
bled "  the  troubled  sea,  when  it  cannot 
rest."  But  God,  in  the  midst  of  them,  un- 
perceived  and  almost  unthought  of,  is 
bringing  his  own  purposes  to  pass  ;  is  mak- 
ing "the  wrath  of  man  to  praise  him,"  and 
the  wickedness  of  man  to  do  his  will.  He 
presides  in  the  storm.  The  waves  thereof 
toss  themselves,  but  he  turns  every  billow 
that  swells  to  the  furtherance  of  his  own 
glory.  "  The  Lord  sitteth  above  the  water- 
floods  ;  yea,  the  Lord  remaineth  King  for- 
ever." 

The  silence  in  this  temple  may  remind 
us  also  of  the  secret  operations  of  God  in  the 
souls  of  men.  Sometimes  he  turns  their 
thoughts  to  himself  by  the  wind,  the  earth- 
quake, or  the  fire,  by  means  which  are  visi- 
ble and  striking  ;  but  it  is  generally  in  "  the 
still  small  voice,"  that  he  manifests  himself 
as  the  God  of  their  salvation.  The  seed 
is  sown  in  their  hearts  they  know  not  when  ; 
"itgrowethupthey  knownothow;"  it  brings 
forth  fruit,  of  which  they  themselves  are 
often  unconscious.  They  are  ripened  for 
heaven  in  a  way  which  they  understand 
not ;  and  then  they  die,  and  go  there  by  a 
road  which  none  can  discover.  They  lie 
down  in  the  grave,  and  all  is  silence.  And 
what  a  peaceful  world  do  they  enter ! 

The  stillness  among  the  Jewish  builders 
might  be  designed  to  remind  us  of  its  quiet- 
ness, of  the  peace  of  hravrn.  All  there  is 
unbroken  calmness.  Cliangos  and  afflic- 
tions have  ceased  ;  for  the  souls  they  so 
often  assailed  and  wrought,  on,  need  them 
no  more.  No  longer  earthlv,  they  are  now- 
heavenly  and  faultless.  All  is  purity,  and 
perfection,  and  brightness.  The  work  is 
done ;  the  instruments  therefore  arc  cast 
aside ;  and  not  a  sound  is  heard,  but  the 
voice  of  overflowing  blessedness,  the  songs 
of  adoration  and  the  shout  of  praise. 


Now  what  may  we  learn  from  ;his  part 
of  our  subject?  We  are  taught  not  to  de- 
spair of  the  cause  of  God  even  in  the  darkest 
scenes. 

Look  where  we  will,  the  state  of  the 
world  is  indeed  deplorable.  It  ought  to 
cause  "  rivers  of  waters  to  run  down  our 
eyes."  But  then,  brethren,  let  us  not  for- 
get  that  amid  all  its  clamor  and  strifes, 
the  work  of  God  is  going  gradually,  surely, 
silently  on.  Let  us  remember  that  one 
proud,  contentious  man  will  make  more 
noise  in  his  way  to  a  world  of  discord,  than 
manv  holv  men  will  make  in  their  way  to 
heaven.  We  hear  the  voice  that  is  lifted 
up  in  the  streets,  the  conqueror's  shout,  the 
wrangler's  curse,  and  the  worldling's  song  ; 
but  we  hear  not  the  prayer  of  the  broken 
heart,  we  see  not  the  bended  knee,  we  mark 
not  the  spirit  that  in  this  cottager's  hut,  or 
in  that  poor  man's  dwelling,  bursts  joyfully 
from  its  prison  of  clay,  and  is  carried  home 
by  the  angels  to  its  God.  "  I  am  left 
alone,"  was  once  the  natural  language  of 
a  despairing  prophet ;  but  what  saith  the 
answer  of  God  unto  him  ?  "I  have  re- 
served to  myself  seven  thousand."  "  Who 
hath  believed  our  report?"  asks  the  Chris- 
tian minister  in  sorrow  and  perhaps  in 
tears  ; — at  the  very  moment,  the  man  who 
from  sabbath  to  sabbath  has  listened  un- 
heeded  to  his  voice,  may  be  in  tears  also, 
and  this  secret  cry  may  be  going  up  like 
incense  to  the  skies,  "  Lord,  I  believe  ;  help 
thou  mine  unbelief." 

We  may  learn  here  too  the  character  of 
true  religion. 

Nothing  is  more  common  in  some  parts 
of  our  own  land,  than  an  ostentatious,  noisy 
display  of  affected  piety.  Many  liave 
learned  to  dispute  and  decide,  who  have 
never  yet  learned  to  cast  down  one  proud 
imagination,  or  even  tried  to  humble  tiiem- 
selves  and  mourn. 

The  young  especially  are  in  danger  of 
falling  into  this  evil.  They  have  vain 
hearts,  and  whatever  offers  to  make  tliem 
great,  will  often  lead  them  captive.  Let 
the  young  then  remember  that  "  there  was 
no  noise  heard  in  the  house  while  it  \\as  in 
building."  Beware  of  a  love  of  display. 
Beware  of  a  bold,  forward,  unmeaning 
tongue.  It  will  please,  it  will  deceive 
none  but  the  simple  ;  it  will  disgust  all  the 
wise.  Let  your  tempers  and  your  lives 
speak  with  a  louder  voice  than  your  words. 
True    religion  is  a  silent,  lowly,  retiring 


22 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  HEAVENLY  TEMPLE. 


thing.  It  comtnunes  with  its  own  heart, 
and  is  still ;  it  prays  in  secret ;  it  weeps 
apart  a,nd  alone.  It  will  indeed  unbosom 
itself  freely  at  times,  but  not  in  a  crowd. 
It  is  as  modest  as  it  is  bold.  It  will  come 
into  public  notice,  rather  than  leave  misery 
unrelieved,  ignorance  unaided,  or  any 
duty  undone ;  it  will  brave  the  opposition 
and  cruelty  of  a  whole  world,  rather  than 
sin  ;  and  then  it  will  retire  into  its  closet, 
and  he  seen  only  by  its  God.  You  have 
heard  "of  the  calm  retreat;"  you  have 
sung  perhaps  of  "the  silent  shade."  O  let 
them  not  be  known  to  you  merely  in  poetry 
and  in  song.  Seek  tiiem  ;  love  them  ;  let 
them  be  daily  witnesses  of  your  prayer 
and  ])raise. 

IV.  There  is  one  point  more  to  be  con- 
sidered— the  great  end  for  which  Ike  heavenly 
fetnp/e  is  raised.  And  tiiis  perhaps  is  too 
often  overlooked.  We  frequently  think  of 
salvation  as  merely  an  act  of  mercy  ;  as 
designed  for  no  other  end  than  the  rescuing 
of  a  multitude  of  immortal  beings  from  a 
wretched  hell,  and  the  carrying  of  them  to 
a  glorious  heaven.  But  this  is  nothing 
more  than  the  means  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  a  further  and  a  higher  end.  And 
what  is  that?  The  manifestation  of  Je- 
hovah's glory. 

The  temple  of  Solomon  was  not  built  for 
this  single  purpose,  that  it  might  be  "a 
house  of  pi;ayer  for  all  nations."  It  was 
designed  to  ijq  the  habitation  of  God,  the 
seat  of  his  presence,  and  a  monument  to  his 
name.  And  tliis  heavenly  temple  is  erected 
for  the  same  purpose  ;  not  so  much  for  the 
sake  of  the  living  and  shining  stones  that 
compose  it,  as  for  the  honor  of  its  great 
Ikiildcr;  not  so  much  for  the  salvation  of 
the  poor  outcasts  of  the  earth,  as  for  tlie 
glory  of  the  power,  wisdom,  and  grace,  of 
the  great  God  of  heaven.  "  Not  for  your 
.sakes  do  I  this,"  said  the  Lord  (iod  to  Is- 
rael, even  of  the  temporal  deliverances  he 
vouchsafed  them,  "  but  for  mine  holy 
name's  sake."  "  This  people,"  he  says  of 
his  redeemed,  "  have  I  formed  for  myself; 
they  sliall  show  forth  my  praise."  "  [le 
hath  cliosen  us,"  says  Saint  Paul,  "  that 
we  sliould  be  holy  and  without  blame  be- 
fore him  in  love" — for  what  end  ?  "  to  the 
praise  of  the  glory  of  liis  grace."  "  In  tlie 
.lisjionsation  of  the  fulness  of  times,"  tlie 
same  apostle  says  "  he  will  gather  together 
in  one  all  things  in  Christ  ;  l)ntli  which  are 
'h  heaveU;  and  which  are  on  earth,  even  in 


him ;  in  whom  also  we  have  obtained  an 
inheritance;"  and  still  the  same  great  de- 
sign is  before  him — "  that  we  should  be  to 
the  praise  of  his  glory."  The  exalted  Sa- 
viour too,  when  he  sends  his  errands  from 
heaven  to  the  churches,  speaks  the  same 
language ;  "  Him  that  overcometh  will  1 
make  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of  my  God,"  a 
monumental  column  to  his  praise. 

And  this  trutli  is  full  of  unspeakable 
comfort  to  the  Christian  heart.  It  would 
be  sweet  to  live  in  heaven  as  the  angels 
live  there,  happy  in  the  sight  of  God,  and 
rejoicing  in  his  love ;  but  when  I  enter 
heaven,  I  shall  stand  there  as  a  monument 
to  my  Redeemer's  honor.  I  would  honor 
him  on  earth.  My  heart's  desire  and  fer- 
vent prayer  is  to  testify  my  love  for  his 
blessed  name.  But  this  treacherous  soul  of 
mine  is  often  cold  in  his  service.  And 
when  I  would  glorify  him,  I  sometimes 
cannot ;  flesh  and  heart  fail  me,  even  when 
my  love  burns.  There  have  been  times, 
too,  when  my  base  words  or  actions  have 
dishonored  that  worthy  name  by  which  I 
am  called.  But  my  warfare  will  soon  be 
ended.  I  can  never  disgrace  my  Saviour 
then.  The  grace  that  has  saved  nie,  will  be 
displayed  in  all  its  wonders.  I  shall  be- 
come a  spectacle  to  angels  and  to  men. 
The  hosts  of  heaven,  as  they  look  on  me, 
will  adore  with  deeper  reverence  Jehovah's 
greatness ;  and  when  my  feeble  voice  is  heard 
among  them,  O  with  what  a  burst  of  praise 
will  they  exalt  the  pov.cr  and  love,  that 
could  raise  one  so  vile  to  so  high  a  place ! 
To  be  a  pardoned  sinner  on  earth,  is  a 
mercy  so  great  that  it  sometimes  over- 
powers me  ;  but  to  be  a  pardoned  sinner  in 
lieaven,  to  afford  a  fi-esh  revenue  of  glory 
to  its  great  King  in  his  own  house — this  is 
a  mercy  which  passes  all  my  thought !  It 
is  worth  even  the  precious  price  that  was 
paid  at  Jerusalem  to  make  it  mine. 

Brethren,  will  this  blessedness  be  ours  ? 
The'edifice  of  which  you  have  been  hearing, 
is  not  a  creation  of  fancy,  the  baseless 
fabric  of  a  dream  ;  it  has  as  real  an  exist- 
ence, as  the  building  which  now  shelters 
us.  It  is  as  true  that  there  are  pardoned 
sinners  joyful  in  heaven,  as  that  there  are 
dying,  suilcring  sinners  within  these  walls. 
It  becomes  a  question  then,  and  a  very 
solemn  one — Shall  we  ever  sec  this  glorious 
ten  pie  ?  Shall  we  ever  form  a  part  of  it  ? 
To  answer  this  question  we  must  ask  an- 
other— Are  we  n)ade  ready  ?     At  any  ratej 


THE  VICISSITUDES  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 


23 


is  the  work  of  preparation  bcuun  ?  Are 
we  separated  from  the  '.vorUl  ?  liviiijif  above 
't  ?  desirinu  a  better  country  ?  seeking  it  ? 
Are  our  souls  emblems  of  this  great  build- 
ing? Are  wc  now  "the  temples  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,"  •■•  habitations  of  God  through 
the  Spirit  ?"  Is  Christ  in  us,  "  the  hope  of 
glory  ?"  If  it  be  thus  with  us,  O  how 
blessed  is  our  condition  !  We  were  "  once 
strangers  and  foreigners;"  we  are  now 
"  fellow-citizens  with  the  saints,  and  of  the 
iiousehold  of  Goil."  And  what  shall  we 
be  soon  ?  "  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what 
we  shall  be,  but  we  know  that  when  he 
shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  him,  for  we 
shall  sec  him  as  he  is." 

With  such  a  weight  of  glory  before  us, 
shall  we  repine  at  the  strokes  wliich  are 
making  us  ready  for  its  honors  and  happi- 
ness ?  Shall  we  murmur  at  the  blows 
which  are  preparing  us  for  heaven  ?  Let 
us  rather  wonder  at  the  condescension 
which  can  bestow  a  single  look  on  materials 
so  worthless.  Let  us  lie  meekly  and  sub- 
missively before  our  God,  content  to  let  him 
carry  on  liis  design  of  mercy  in  his  own 
way ;  imploring  him  never  to  forsake  the 
work  of  his  hands,  and  trusting  that  he  who 
has  begun,  will  surely  complete  it.  What 
if  the  blows  fall  heavy  and  fast  ?  The  sound 
of  the  axes  and  hammers  will  the  sooner 
cease  ;  or  if  not,  the  more  honorable  will 
be  our  place  in  the  building,  the  more  shall 
we  show  forth  in  heaven  the  glory  of  the 
Lord.  And  what  if,  amid  all  the  labor 
bestowed  on  us,  the  work  within  us  appear 
for  an  hour  to  stand  still  ?  This  is  the 
word  of  the  Lord,  saying,  "  Not  by  might, 
nor  by  power,  but  by  my  Spirit,  saith  the 
Lord  of  hosts."  "  The  hands  of  Zerub- 
babel  have  laid  the  foundation  of  this  house  ; 
his  hands  shall  also  finish  it.  He  shall 
bring  forth  the  head-stone  thereof  with 
shoutings,  crying,  Grace,  Grace,  unto  it." 


SERMON    IV. 


THE  VICISSITUDES  OF  IIU.MAN  LIFE. 


Zecii.vriah  xiv.  G,  7. 

It  shall  come  to  pass  in  that  day,  that  the  light 
thall  not  be  clear  nor  dark ;  but  it  shall  he  one 


day  which  shall  be  known  to  the  Lord,  ^not  day 
nor  night ;  but  it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  at 
evening  time  it  shall  be  light. 

The  time  to  which  this  passage  relates, 
is  uncertain.  It  is  usually  understood  as 
descriptive  of  the  present  state  of  the  church, 
and  prophetical  of  the  glorious  period  which 
will  follow  the  restoration  of  the  .lews,  and 
the  conversion  of  the  heathen.  We  must 
however  wait  God's  time,  not  only  for  the 
fulfdment  of  all  his  promises,  but  fjr  a  full 
explanation  of  some  of  them.  Not  that  we 
are  to  pass  over  any  of  the  prophecies  as 
useless.  To  a  certain  point,  their  meaning 
is  generally  plain.  Even  when  their  pri- 
mary reference  to  others  is  doubtful,  they 
often  admit  of  a  secondary  and  instructive 
api)lication  to  ourselves. 

The  scripture  before  us  may  be  viewed 
in  this  light.  It  offers  to  our  consideration, 
first,  the  mixed  condition  of  the  servants  of 
God  in  the  present  world ;  secondly,  the 
divine  wisdom  in  allowing  it  to  be  thus 
mixed ;  thirdly,  the  consolation  offered  us 
amidst  its  changes ;  and,  lastly,  the  happy 
termination  of  them  all. 

I  "  It  shall  come  to  pass  in  that  day, 
that  the  light  shall  not  be  clear  nor  dark  ;" 
it  shall  be  "  not  day  nor  night."  These 
figurative  expressions  well  describe  the  pre- 
sent mixed  condition  of  the  righteous.  By 
day  and  night,  light  and  darkness,  are 
meant  knowledge  and  ignorance,  sin  and 
holiness,  prosperity  and  adversity,  hope  and 
fear.  And  when  it  is  said  that  it  shall  be 
neither  day  nor  night  with  the  people  of 
God,  we  arc  to  understand  that  their  con- 
dition in  the  world  is  neither  perfectly  good 
nor  perfectly  evil,  that  there  is  mixture  and 
change  in  their  portion. 

1.  Look  aitlieir knowledge ; — how  limited, 
how  dark  is  it !  This  they  know,  for  God 
has  taught  it  them,  that  to  win  Christ  is  sal- 
vation ;  but  how  little  do  they  know  of  Christ, 
of  the  glory  of  his  person,  the  tenderness  of 
his  love,  the  riches  of  his  grace,  the  depth 
of  his  condescension,  the  height  of  his  great- 
ness  !  They  talk  of  heaven,  and  they  know 
enough  of  it  to  long  to  be  there  ;  but  ask 
them  to  describe  its  actual  blessedness,  and 
they  are  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  terms, 
to  which  they  themselves  can  attach  hardly 
one  clear  idea.  And  what  do  they  know 
of  God  ?  of  his  infinite  and  eternal  nature, 
of  his  works  and  ways  ?  And  what  of  their 
own  hearts  ?  Thev  search  them  indec^d 
diligently,  and  would  know  them  thoroughly, 


24 


THE  VICISSITUDES  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 


but  they  are  bafllcd.  There  is  a  desperate 
wickedness  within  their  breasts,  an  ex- 
ceeding deceitfulness,  an  inconsistency,  a 
strangeness,  which  tliey  cannot  explore. 
In  a  word,  tlify  have  just  light  sufficient  to 
discover  the  thick  darkness  of  their  souls, 
just  knowledge  sufficient  to  show  them  their 
ignorance,  just  wisdom  enough  to  make 
them  cry  out  with  the  straitened  psalmist, 
"  Lighten  mine  eyes,  lest  I  sleep  the  sleep 
of  death." 

2.  13ut  this  mixture  of  light  and  dark- 
ness is  still  more  evident  in  the  outward  cir- 
cvmstances  of  their  cond'tion.  And  we  need 
not  refer  here  to  an  imprisoned  Joseph,  or  a 
dethroned  David,  or  a  troubled  Israel.  The 
whole  church  of  God  declares  with  one 
voice,  "  Thou  hast  lifted  me  up,  and  cast 
me  down."  We  ourselves  have  experienced 
changes  ;  some  of  us  are  experiencing  them 
still — great  and  unexpected  changes,  such 
as  in  our  childhood  and  youth  we  never 
thought  of — such  as  even  now  we  can 
hardly  believe  to  be  real.  We  have  sung 
of  mercy  one  hour  ;  the  next  perhaps  we 
have  wept  under  distressing  judgments. 
To-day  the  God  of  providence  smiles  on  us  ; 
to-morrow  he  frowns.  Now  he  lifts  us  up 
in  the  world  higher  than  even  our  once 
buoyant  hopes  ever  rose  ;  and  now  again 
he  sinks  us  lower  than  our  darkest  fears 
had  ever  placed  us.  And  all  this  while 
we  cannot  discover  what  he  is  doing  with 
us  ;  so  perplexing  are  his  doings,  so  obscure 
his  purposes,  that  we  cannot  understand 
them.  All  we  can  do,  is  to  stand  still  and 
wonder ;  and  all  we  can  say  of  the  matter, 
amounts  to  no  more  than  this,  "  His  way  is 
in  the  sea,  and  his  path  in  the  great  waters, 
and  his  footsteps  are  not  known." 

3.  And  how  stands  the  case,  if  we  turn 
from  our  outward  to  our  inward  comforts  ? 
O  what  a  wonderful  mixtui'c  of  light  and 
darkness,  what  strange  vicissitudes  are 
there  !  Comforts  indeed  we  have,  comforts 
which  we  would  not  lose  for  all  the  pleas- 
ures that  the  world  can  give,  could  they 
all  be  poured  at  the  same  moment  into  our 
hearts  ;  but  then  how  soon  are  these  comforts 
gone  !  how  easily  are  tiiey  lost !  with  how 
much  sorrow  are  they  sometimes  preceded, 
and  with  how  much  bitterness  are  they  at 
other  times  followed  !  I^ook  at  the  tossed 
Christian — orif  hnur  alinosf  ;is  lunipy  as  an 
angel,  the  next  '■  nf  all  iik'N  tlH>  most 
miserable;"  his  iiiiiid  a1  our  tinir  peaceful 
as  the  ocean  in  an  cvcninii;  calni,  at  uuntlun' 


time  "  like  the  troubled  sea  when  it  cannot 
rest;"  now  exclaiming,  "  The  Lord  is  my 
light  and  my  salvation ;  whom  shall  I 
fear  ?"  and  now,  "  O  wretched  man  that  I 
am,  who  shall  deliver  me  ?"  in  the  morn- 
ing, singing  as  if  he  were  at  the  gate  of 
heaven  ;  and  in  the  evening,  groaning  as 
though  drawing  nigh  to  hell. 

4.  And  whence  arises  this  fluctuation  of 
feeling,  this  mixture  of  peace  and  dis- 
quietude ?  It  arises  from  a  mixture  else- 
where, from  wavering  holiness.  There  are 
changes  here  also.  The  justification  of 
every  pardoned  sinner  is  ever  the  same, 
fixed  and  immutable  as  the  love  of  Christ ; 
but  his  sanctification  is  only  in  progress, 
advancing  indeed,  but  impeded  by  many 
hinderances  and  liable  to  many  partial  de- 
clines. He  feels  "  a  law  in  his  members 
warring  against  the  law  of  his  mind ;" 
"  the  flesh  lusting  against  the  spirit,  and 
the  spirit  against  the  flesh  ;"  faith  struggling 
with  unbelief,  the  love  of  Christ  with  the 
love  of  the  world;"  impatience  sometimes 
yielding  to  submission,  and  sometimes  over- 
coming it ;  hope  rising  out  of  fear,  and  fear 
clouding  hope  ;  heavenly  affections  soaring 
upward  to  their  God,  and  earthly  desires 
clinging  to  the  soul  and  keeping  it  from  its 
rest. 

Such  is  the  Christian's  day.  Whether 
we  look  at  his  knowledge,  his  outward  cir- 
cumstances, his  inward  comforts,  or  his 
holiness,  we  discover  at  once  that  his  sun 
does  not  always  nor  brightly  shine  ;  that  he 
is  "  brought  out  of  darkness  into  light,"  but 
that  his  day  is  a  day  of  cloud  and  storm ; 
that,  in  the  present  life,  his  state  is  not  al- 
together evil  nor  completely  blessed.  It  be- 
comes a  question  then.  Why  is  it  thus  with 
him  ?  and  to  answer  this,  we  must  consider — 

II.  The  loisdom  of  God  in  alkmmig  the 
present  condition  of  his  servants  to  be  thus 
checkered. 

1.  He  acts  thus  towards  them,  that  their 
cor  nipt  ions  may  he  subdued. 

Prosperity  and  adversity  serve  as  correc- 
tives to  each  other.  The  evils  which  the 
one  is  calculated  to  footer,  the  other  has  a 
tendency  to  counteract.  What  should  we 
become,' if  unmingled  prosperity,  if  uninter- 
rupted sunshine,  were  our  lo*  }  As  it  was 
with  Ilezekiah,  it  would  be  will)  us,  our 
"  hearts  wouM  be  lifted  \ip  ;"  vanity,  and 
pride-,  and  earthly-mindedness,  would  sap 
the  founihition  of  ilie  little  religion  we  pos. 
sess,  and  destroy  our  souls. 


THE  VICISSITUDES  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 


25 


And,  on  the  other  hand,  continual  adver- 
sity, unlivokcn  sorrow  of  any  kind,  would 
have  its  dangers.  It  is  in  the  night,  that 
the  beasts  of  the  forest  .seize  on  tlieir  prey  ; 
it  is  in  our  darkness,  tiiat  Satan  often  gives 
as  our  severest  blow,  and  leaves  on  our 
soul  its  foulest  stain.  Who  that  has  been 
deeply  tried,  has  not  experienced  .something 
of  the  weakening,  disiieartening  effect  of 
long-continued  atllietions  ?  something  of  the 
selfishness,  and  desi)ondency,  and  sloth,  and 
aching  for  sympathy,  and  that  almo.st  un- 
conquerable pronencss  to  make  flesh  our 
arm,  which  are  frequently  connected  with 
spiritual  or  mental  sorrow  ? 

Out  of  compassion  therefore  to  our  in- 
firmities, the  Lord  diversifies  our  state. 
That  we  may  not  forget  him  in  the  light,  he 
sends  us  darkness  ;  and  then,  that  our  feet 
may  not  stumble,  that  our  hearts  may  not 
fail  us  in  the  darkness,  he  causes  the  light 
again  to  rise  on  us,  and  we  are  comforted. 

2.  Another  end  is  also  accomplished  by 
this  procedure — it  brings  our  graces  into  ex- 
ercise ;  it  manifests  and  strengthens  them. 
Some  ofthe.se  are  called  forth  by  prosperity 
only,  at  least  they  shine  then  with  peculiar 
brightness  ;  such  are  moderation,  deadness 
to  the  world,  self-denial,  humility.  Others 
again  are  .seen  only  or  chiefly  in  the  night 
of  affliction — submission,  contentment,  pa- 
tience, all  the  suffering  graces  of  the  Spirit. 
Hence  the  "all-wise  God,  our  Saviour,"  so 
orders  his  dispensations,  that  his  people 
"  may  be  exercised  in  all  manner  of  godli- 
ness," that  they  may  be  "  perfect,  tho- 
roughly furnished  unto  all  good  works." 
Sometimes  he  places  them  in  the  immediate 
light  of  his  countenance,  and  causes  them 
to  glorify  him  there  ;  and  then  he  brings 
them  into  a  low  and  afflicted  condition,  and 
there  too  they  bring  honor  to  his  name. 
Were  he  to  keep  them  in  one  uniform,  un- 
varied  state,  half  the  graces  he  imparts  to 
them  would  be  hidden,  and  much  of  his 
gloiy  in  their  sanctification  would  be  lo.st. 

3.  This  diversified  experience  is  designed 
also  to  bring  the  peop/e  of  God  to  a  more 
simple  dependence  on  himself.  It  accom- 
plishes this  end  by  showing  them  their  own 
weakness  and  the  divine  .strength. 

How  .soon,  when  the  light  either  of  provi- 
dence or  of  grace  .shines  on  our  path,  do  we 
begin  to  think  that  we  ourselves  liave  cau.sed 
it  to  shine  !  We  forget  that  all  our  "  fre.sli 
springs"  are  in  God.  Our  own  righteous- 
ness, prudeni'.e,  and  foresight,  rise  in  our 
4 


estimation,  till  we  are  tempted  to  believe 
that  we  can  stand  alone,  till  we  find  our 
selves  ready  to  act  as  though  we  could  con 
trol,  not  the  workings  of  our  own  minds  only, 
but  all  the  events  that  concern  us  in  a 
changing  world.  The  Lord  thercfiire  vin- 
dicates his  honor.  Unexpectedly  perhaps 
and  suddenly,  he  changes  our  condition  ;  or 
if  he  leaves  that  untouched,  he  suffers  our 
feelings  under  it  to  change  ;  and  then,  "  in 
the  fulness  of  our  sufficiency,"  we  are  "  in 
straits."  We  see  that  we  ourselves  are 
powerless.  We  thirds  of  the  forgotten  lan- 
guage of  our  God,  and  are  humi)le<l  by  the 
recollection  of  it ;  "I  form  the  light  and 
create  darkness.  I  make  peace  and  create 
evil.  I,  the  Lord,  do  all  these  things." 
And  this  is  the  season  which  he  chooses  for 
a  fresh  display  of  his  all-sufficiency.  Our 
earthly  prospects  brighten  as  suddenly  as 
they  were  before  clouded  ;  or  if  all  is  still 
darkness  there,  light  springs  up  within. 
Stripped  of  the  friends  or  comforts  which 
seemed  but  a  short  time  ago  our  all,  we  are 
happier  than  they  ever  made  us.  The 
Lord  no  longer  "  pleads  against  us  with  his 
great  power,"  but  "  puts  his  strength" 
within  us,  and  we  become  a  wonder  to  our- 
selves. 

III.  Now  these  considerations,  while  they 
show  us  the  wisdom  of  God  in  the  changes 
to  which  we  are  subject,  are  sufficient  of 
themselves  to  encourage  us  to  bear  them 
without  a  murmur ;  but  we  find  in  the  text 
other  grounds  of  consolation. 

1.  It  reminds  us  of  the  notice  u'hich  God 
takes  of  our  varied  condition  ;  "  It  shall  be 
one  day  which  shall  be  known  to  the  Lord." 
And  the  word  signifies  more  than  "  known  ;" 
it  implies  that  this  varied  day,  with  all  its 
■storms  and  calms,  has  been  appointed,  and 
ordered,  and  approved  by  him.  Whatever 
befalls  us,  his  eye  is  upon  it,  and  his  hand 
and  counsel  are  in  it.  He  knows  all  our 
difficulties,  sorrows,  infirmities,  and  tempta- 
tions ;  he  sees  all  our  conflicts  and  dangers, 
even  before  we  feel  them  ;  and  suits  his 
ways  to  our  necessities.  There  is  not  a 
thought  in  our  hearts,  but  "  he  understands 
it  afar  off;"  not  a  movement,  which  has  not 
some  influence  on  his  dealings  towanls  us. 

Mark  how  this  consideration  .strengthened 
Job  in  one  of  his  saddest  hours.  All  was 
darkness  around  him.  He  looked  anxiously 
for  his  God,  but  he  could  neither  .see  nor 
find  him.  He  remembered  however  that 
God  beheld  liim ;   that  though  he  hid  him- 


26 


TPIE  VICISSITUDES  OF  HUMAN  LIFE. 


self,  he  ".vas  near  him  and  working  for  him  ; 
and  Job  took  courage.  "  Behold,"  he  says, 
"  I  go  forward,  but  he  is  not  there ;  and 
backward,  but  I  cannot  perceive  him  ;  on 
the  left  hand  where  he  doth  work,  but  I 
cannot  behold  him  ;  he  hideth  himself  on 
the  right  hand,  that  I  cannot  see  him ;  but 
he  knowcth  the  way  that  I  take ;  when 
he  hath  tried  me,  1  shall  come  forth  as 
gold." 

2.  We  may  notice  further  for  our  com- 
fort, the  harmony  of  the  mixed  events  of  our 
life.  This  also  seems  to  be  implied  in  the 
text ;  "  It  -shall  be  one  day,"  or,  as  it  is 
translated  in  the  margin,  "  the  day  shall  be 
one."  It  shall  be  one  couj-se  of  providence. 
All  the  changes  in  it*shall  be  agreeable  to 
one  plan,  shall  further  the  same  design, 
shall  have  the  same  end.  And  you  know, 
bi'ethren,  what  this  design  is,  even  your 
sanctification  ;  and  you  know  what  this  end 
will  be,  your  everlasting  salvation.  The 
prophet  seems  to  intimate  here  what  an 
apostle  afterwards  plainly  declared,  "  All 
things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that 
love  God."  They  "  work  together  for  good." 
Viewed  singly,  some  of  them  might  appear 
to  injure  us  ;  if  they  befell  us  alone,  they 
might  really  injure  us  ;  but  they  are  work- 
ing "together;"  they  are  performing  their 
part  in  a  long  and  connected  plan,  and  are 
as  necessary  for  our  welfare  as  tPie  things 
that  most  gladden  us.  Think  of  the  seasons 
of  the  year.  .  One  follows  another,  and 
sometimes  intermingles  itself  for  a  while 
with  it.  The  barren  winter  succeeds  the 
fruitful  summer,  and  often  pushes  itself  into 
the  opening  spring  ;  and  yet  which  of  the 
seasons  is  useless  ?  By  their  connection 
with  each  other,  by  their  mutual  influence, 
they  all  benefit  the  earth,  and  cause  it  to 
bring  forth  fruit  for  our  use. 

3.  But  take  this  expression  in  another 
sense,  as  intimating  the  shortness  of  this 
checkered  scene.  Tliis  mixture  of  light  and 
darkness  sliall  be  for  one  day  only,  one 
short  day.  And  what  is  life,  with  all  its 
hurry  and  turmoil,  its  succession  of  liopes 
and  fears,  and  joys  and  troubles  ?  "  It  is 
but  a  vapor  that  appcareth  for  a  little  time, 
and  then  vanisheth  away."  Its  days  may 
be  evil,  but  lengtlien  them  out  to  the  utmost, 
they  are  but  few.  While  we  are  struggling 
with  its  changes,  its  weeks,  and  months, 
and  years,  are  hurrying  on.  While  pain 
and  sickness  oppress  us,  they  are  wearing 
us  out ;   they  art   leading  us  gradually  to 


the  grave,  and  there  "  the  weary  are  at 
rest." 

It  is  marvellous  that  we  think  so  little  of 
this  trutli,  and  draw  so  little  consolation 
from  it.  In  the  gloominess  of  our  imagina- 
tions, we  paint  a  long  dark  scene  between 
us  and  the  tomb ;  life  stretches  itself  out 
before  us  a  dreary  and  almost  endless  waste, 
over  which  we  must  pass  in  tribulation  and 
sorrow  :  but  these  dreaded  evils  may  never 
come.  There  may  be  "  but  a  step  between 
us  and  death."  We  may  even  now  be 
standing  on  the  verge  of  heaven. 

I  am  aware,  brethren,  that  this  is  low 
ground  for  a  child  of  God  to  take  ;  but  we 
cannot  always  rise  to  the  higher  consola- 
tions of  the  Christian  life,  and  why,  in  such 
a  world  as  this,  with  faith  so  weak  as  ours, 
should  we  turn  away  from  any  source  of 
consolation,  which  divine  compassion  has 
opened?  An  apostle  did  not  disdain  even 
this.  "  The  time  is  short,"  said  the  troubled 
Paul ;  and  this  is  one  of  the  inferences 
which  he  drew  from  its  shortness,  "  It  re- 
maineth  that  they  that  weep,  be  as  though 
they  wept  not." 

But  this  is  not  all. 

IV.  Consider,  lastl)^,  how  this  short  day 
will  end,  the  happy  termination  of  all  its 
changes ;  "  It  shall  come  to  pass,  that  at 
evening  time  it  shall  be  light." 

This  promise  may  be  applied  to  the  pre- 
sent  life.  It  may  serve  to  teach  the  afllicted, 
that  their  deliverance  is  sometimes  the 
nearest,  when  it  seems  the  farthest  from 
them  ;  that  mercy  often  comes,  when  we 
look  only  for  deeper  wretchedness.  It  may 
also  encourage  them  to  hope  that  their  last 
days  will  be  their  best,  that  the  evening  of 
their  life  will  be  the  holiest  and  happiest 
part  of  it. 

But  let  us  give  the  words  a  higher  mean- 
ing ;  let  us  consider  them  as  leading  us 
into  a  heavenly  world.  They  will  then 
bring  two  facts  before  us. 

1 .  The  Christian'' s  present  slate  of  mingled 
good  and  evil  will  end  in  a  stale  of  iinminglcd 
good. 

There  is  no  mixture  or  change  in  eternity. 
All  there  is  fixed  and  stable,  pure  mercy  or 
pure  judgment.  Hell  is  set  forth  as 
"  utter  darkness  ;"  and  of  heaven  it  is  said, 
"  There  is  no  night  there  ;""  it  is  one  un- 
clouded, bright,  and  eternal  day.  The 
little  light  wliich  we  enjoy  here,  is  a  reflec- 
tion of  its  brightness  ;  it  is  an  earnest  that 
we  shall  enjoy  it  all  hereafter  ;   "  the  path 


THE  VICISSITUDES  OF  HUMAN  LU'E. 


27 


of  the  just  is  as  tlie  shining  light,  that  shineth 
more  and  more  unto  tlio  perfect  day."  We 
are  only  in  the  twilight  now  ;  a  bewilder- 
ing, though  a  cheering  twilight  ;  but  the 
darkness  will  soon  be  completely  past,  and 
the  light  will  shine  true  and  clear.  Every 
thing  will  come  to  an  end,  that  now  en- 
feebles, straitens,  or  distresses  us.  Our 
knowledge  will  be  unmixed  with  error ; 
limited  indeed,  but  ever  enlarging.  We 
shall  see  God  and  know  God — "  see  him 
as  he  is,"  and  know  him  "  even  as  we  are 
known."  The  consequence  is,  we  shall  be 
like  God — like  him  in  holiness,  for  we  shall 
be  "  without  spot  or  blemish" — like  him  in 
happiness,  for  we  shall  "  enter  into  his 
joy" — like  him  in  safety  and  repose,  for  we 
shall  receive  "  a  kingdom  which  cannot  be 
moved."  "  Thou  shalt  call  thy  walls 
Salvation,"  says  Isaiah  to  the  redeemed 
church,  '•  and  tiiy  gates  Praise.  The  sun 
shall  be  n(3  more  thy  light  by  day,  neither 
for  brightness  shall  the  moon  give  light  unto 
thee  ;  but  the  Lord  shall  be  unto  thee  an 
everlasting  light,  and  tliy  God  thy  glory. 
Thy  sun  sliall  no  more  go  down,  neither 
sliall  thy  moon  witlidraw  itself;  for  the 
Lord  shall  be  thine  everlasting  light,  and 
the  days  of  thy  mourning  shall  be  ended." 
And  what  must  that  light  l)e,  which  comes 
immediately  from  Jehovah's  throne  ?  Look 
at  the  sun  that  he  has  fixed  in  the  heavens  ; 
our  feeble  eyes  cannot  bear  its  splendor. 
In  heaven,  "  they  that  be  wise,  shall  shine 
forth  as  that  sun."  And  if  a  pard<)ned 
sinner  is  so  glorious  there  with  a  borrowed 
lustre,  who  can  measure  the  glory  of  him 
who  is  the  Fountain  of  life,  the  source  of  all 
the  light  that  ever  shone  ? 

2.  And  this  light  often  breaks  upon  the 
soul  when  the  soul  looks  not  for  it  ;  iUs 
blessedness  comes  in  an  unexpected  hour. 
"  At  eveninfT  time  it  shall  be  light ;"  in  the 
evening,  when  we  least  look  for  light  to 
come,  when  our  hopes  fail  us,  when  we 
begin  to  fear  that  the  twilight'of  a  cloudy 
day  will  be  succeeded  by  the  thick  dark- 
ness of  a  stormy  night. 

Lot  us  think  of  this  promise  as  we  look 
on  the  dying  Christian.  We  sometimes 
find  it  hard  to  believe  that  the  blessed 
change  which  awaits  him  can  be  real. 
Can  that  helpless,  sinking,  witiiered  frame, 
that  "  vile  body,"  be  over  made  like  the 
glorious  body  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ? 
Can  that  soul  which  is  now  all  gloom,  or 
confusion,  oi   insensibility,  into   which  we 


strive  in  vain  to  pour  one  drop  of  consola- 
tion— can  that  .soul,  when  a  few  mcjre  hours 
are  past,'  be  filled  with  all  the  unutterable 
joy  of  its  Lord  ?  Can  a  few  short  mo- 
ments carry  my  |)Oor  dying  parent,  or  bro- 
ther,  or  child,  or  friend,  from  this  dark 
room  of  mourning,  into  all  the  light  of 
heaven  ?  Yes  ;  "•  in  this  evenfng  time  it 
sliall  be  light."  O  may  the  God  of  my 
fathers  grant,  that  when  my  evening  comes, 
it  may  be  light  with  me  ! 

We  have  now  gone  through  tliis  gracious 
promise.  What  use  shall  We  make  of  it? 
If  we  make  no  other,  let  it  at  least  excite  us 
to  inquire  whether  we  are  the  people  con- 
cerned in  it.  And  to  come  to  a  faithful 
answer  of  this  question,  it  is  not  enough  that 
we  remember  the  outward  changes  we 
have  undergone — have  we  experienced  any 
change  within  ?  We  were  "  sometimes 
darkness;"  ignorant  of  our  lost  condition, 
blind  to  the  glory  of  Christ ;  desperately 
wicked,  and  yet  trusting  in  our  own  righte- 
ousness ;  perishing,  and  yet  thinking  our- 
selves safe  ; — are  we  now  '<  light  in  the 
Lord  ?"  Do  we  see  as  we  once  saw  not  ? 
Does  the  eternity  which  we  once  hardly 
thought  of,  now  appear  of  tremendous  im- 
portance in  our  sight  ?  Is  the  value  of  the 
soul,  is  the  way  of  salvation,  is  the  pre- 
ciousness  of  the  Saviour,  revealed  to  us  ? 
Do  we  know  Christ  ?  Has  God  "  shined 
into  our  hearts  ?"  Is  the  day  begun  there  ? 
If  we  shrink  from  such  questions  as  these, 
this  scripture  was'  never  designed  to  com- 
fort us ;  we  have  at  present  no  part  or  lot 
in  the  consolation  it  affords.  The  light  it 
speaks  of  will  never  shine  on  our  dying  bed, 
nor  break  on  us  in  an  eternal  world.  All 
there  will  be  thick  darkness  and  unbroken 
despair. 

And  must  the  sorrows  of  life  end  thus, 
brethren  ?  Must  its  changes  come  to  this 
mournful  termination  ?  O  fiee  from  this 
"  wratli  to  come."  Near  as  you  may  be 
to  it,  you  are  called  on  to  escape  it ;  to  ac- 
cept, instead  of  it,  the  salvation  of  heaven. 

And  this  call  comes  not  to  you  from  ser- 
mons and  ministers  only  ;  it  is  the  voice  of 
all  the  vicissitudes  which  befall  you.  Every 
trouble  that  grieves,  and  every  mercy  that 
gladdens  you,  is  sent  to  you  from  heaven 
on  the  same  errand,  to  remind  you  of  a 
great  Saviour  and  to  bring  you  to  his  feet. 
Whether  mourning  or  rejoicing,  hoping  or 
fearing,  in  sickness  or  in  health,  in  trouble 
or  in  peace,  this  is  the  gracious  call  ever 


28 


THE  PRAYER  OF  MOSES  FOR  A  VIEW  OF  GOD 


sounding  in  your  ears,  "  Awake,  thou  that 
sleepest,  and  arise  from  the  dead,  and 
Clirist  shall  give  thee  light."  "  Give  glory 
then  to  the  Lord  your  God,  before  he  cause 
darkness,  and  before  your  feet  stumble 
upon  the  dark  mountains ;  and  while  ye 
(ook  for  light,  he  turn  it  into  the  shadow  of 
Jeath,  and  make  it  gross  darkness." 

If  the  light  of  grace  has  indeed  begun  to 
dawn  within  us,  then  let  this  scripture 
•'  sink  down  into  our  ears."  Let  the  young 
2nd  peaceful  Christian  remember  it.  You 
love  perhaps  to  hear  of  such  consolations  as 
these,  but  you  do  not  feel  any  urgent  need 
of  them  ;  and  after  dwelling  on  them  for  an 
hour,  you  are  tempted  to  let  them  pass 
away  from  your  memories,  as  though  they 
concerned  you  not.  But  you  will  need 
them.  Your  sunshine  will  not  go  with  you 
all  the  way  to  the  grave.  As  surely  as 
you  are  the  children  of  Christ,  so  surely 
will  he  make  you  acquainted  with  "  the 
days  of  darkness."  You  know  not  how 
many  of  them  may  be  your  portion,  nor 
iiow  soon  they  may  come.  You  know  not 
what  clouds  may  even  now  be  gathering 
around  your  path  ;  what  fears,  and  dis- 
couragements, and  temptations  may  be  near 
at  hand.  Expect  trials  ;  prepare  for  them. 
Take  unto  you  "  the  M'hole  armor  of 
God."  "  Let  the  word  of  Christ  dwell  in 
you  richly."  Treasure  up  in  your  me- 
mory its  precious  promises.  When  trouble 
comes,  let  it  find  you  ready,  waiting  to  re- 
ceive and  strengthened  to  endure  it. 

And  what  does  this  text  say  to  you  who 
are  beginning  to  be  afflicted  and  tossed  in  your 
tcay  to  heaven  ?  It  bids  you  put  to  yourselves 
the  question  of  the  troubled  Job,  "  What, 
shall  we  receive  good  at  the  hand  of  God, 
and  shall  we  not  receive  evil  ?"  Shall  we 
take  the  comforts  he  has  prepared  for  his 
children,  and  murmur  at  his  corrections  ? 
Me  measures  out  to  us  good  and  evil,  light 
and  darkness,  with  infinite  wisdom  and 
love  ;  and  we  must  learn  to  receive  both  with 
equal  thankfulness.  There  may  be  chan- 
ges and  counterchanges  in  our  lot ;  and 
what  if  there  be  ?  Through  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  they  are  subduing  our  cor- 
ruptions, exorcising  our  graces,  bringing  us 
to  a  more  simple  dependence  on  our  God. 
And  he  who  sends  them,  mark's  them  all, 
controls  them  all,  and  lurns  them  all  tonne 
blessed  end. 

Rest  satisfied,  brethren,  with  this  truth, 
tt^at,  however  mysterious  and    perplexing 


many  things  within  you  and  around  you 
may  seem,  they  are  all  parts  of  one  and  the 
same  plan  ;  that  this  plan  is  continually 
before  the  Lord  ;  that  it  has  been  so  from 
your  cradle,  and  will  be  so  to  your  grave  ; 
that  he  studied  and  arranged  it  in  eternity, 
and  in  eternity  will  glorify  himself  for  the 
grace  which  it  displays.  Your  own  lips  shall 
praise  him  there — praise  him,  not  merely 
for  the  love  that  formed  you  for  himself,  the 
Saviour  who  redeemed,  the  Spirit  who  sanc- 
tifies, and  the  heavenly  consolations  which 
refresh  you,  but  praise  him  for  tlie  troubles 
which  have  brought  you  low,  the  conflicts 
which  have  made  you  tremble,  the  sorrows 
that  have  almost  broken  your  heart,  and 
the  weakness  that  has  subdued  it.  And 
the  time  is  drawing  nigh.  The  night  is 
already  "  far  spent,  the  day  is  at  hand,"  a 
cloudless,  never-ending  day.  Let  us  look 
forward  to  it.  Let  us  look  at  "  the  things 
which  are  not  seen."  Let  us  think  of  them 
till,  among  all  the  changes  and  chances  o> 
this  mortal  life,  we  can  say  with  the  happj 
Paul,  "  I  have  learned,  in  whatsoever  state 
I  am,  therewith  to  be  content.  I  know  both 
how  to  be  abased,  and  I  know  how  to  abound ; 
everywhere  and  in  all  things,  I  am  instruct- 
ed both  to  be  full  and  to  be  hungry,  both 
to  abound  and  to  suffer  need.  I  can  do  all 
things  through  Christ  which  strengtheneth 
me." 


SERMON    V. 

THE  PRAYER  OF  MOSES  FOR  A  VIEW  OF 
GOD. 

Exodus  xxxni.   18. 
/  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory. 

The  blessedness  of  heaven  consists  chiefly 
in  seeing  God.  The  man  therefore  ^\ho 
is  heavenly-minded,  can  enter  at  once  i.ito 
the  meaning  of  this  prayer.  It  expressies 
nothing  more  than  a  feeling  with  which  he 
is  well  acquainted,  one  of  the  strongest  and 
most  cherished  desires  of  his  own  heart. 
Me  too  can  say,  he  often  has  said  at  the 
footstool  of  his  God,  "  I  beseech  thee,  show 
me  thy  glory." 

It  is  plain,  brethren,  that  we  have  now  a 
very  lofly  subject  before  us.  Were  Moses 
himself  among  us,  he  could  not  speak  of  it 
as  he  ought.     An  angel  could  not  elevate 


THE  PRAYER  OF  MOSES  FOR  A  VIEW  OF  GOD. 


20 


our  luiiuls  to  any  just  conceptions  of  it.  But 
a  greater  than  Moses  or  any  angel  is  liere. 
The  Lord  himself  is  in  this  place;  and  he 
can  cause  his  glory  so  to  shine,  that  even 
our  feeble  eyes  may  discern  its  brightness. 
We  must  however  limit  our  vi(>\v'  of  it  to 
one  point — let  us  look  on  the  divine  glory 
as  an  oLjoct  of  desire  to  the  spiritual  mind. 

We  may  consider,  first,  the  circum- 
stances which  led  to  the  petition  in  the  text ; 
secondly,  the  petition  itself;  and,  thirdly, 
the  reasons  why  every  one  of  ourselves 
should  take  it  as  his  frequent  and  earnest 
prayer. 

I.  The  great  lesson  taught  us  by  the  cir- 
cumstances connected  with  this  pciiHon,  is 
the  wonderful  power  of  prayer. 

By  turning  to  the  tenth  verse  of  the  pre- 
ceding chapter,  we  discover  the  Most  High 
expressing  his  righteous  indignation  against 
id(jlatrous  Israel,  and  threatening  to  con- 
sume them.  But  Moses  prays  for  the  re- 
bellious people.  In  the  first  instance,  he 
endeavors  to  turn  away  the  divine  wrath 
from  them,  that  it  might  not  cut  them  off; 
and,  as  we  are  told  in  the  fourteenth  verse, 
he  prevails.  Still,  however,  to  mark  his 
displeasure,  the  Lord  refuses  to  go  any  fur- 
ther wi'h  the  guilty  nation,  and  intimates, 
ill  the  thirty-fourth  verse,  his  intention  of 
sendi'ig  an  angel  with  them  in  his  stead. 
But  no  angel,  no,  nor  all  the  angels  in  the 
coiirts  of  heaven,  can  fill  up  the  place  of  a 
departed  God.  Moses  knew  this.  Hence 
wo  find  him,  in  the  fifteenth  verse  of  this 
chapter,  once  more  pleading  for  Israel. 
He  beseeches  the  Lord  to  reveal  himself 
again,  as  the  companion  and  guide  of  their 
way,  and  humbly  tells  him  that  they  had 
rather  stay  or  even  die  where  they  were, 
in  a  dreary  wilderness,  than  go  into  the 
promised  land  without  their  God.  "  If  thy 
presence  go  not  with  me,"  said  the  fervent 
prophet,  "  carry  us  not  up  hence."  "  What 
is  an  angel  to  us  ?  or  what  the  possession 
of  Canaan,  with  its  boasted  hills  and  fertile 
plains  ?  These,  without  thee,  will  leave  us 
poor  ;  nay,  they  will  make  us  wretched  ; 
they  will  serve  only  to  remind  us  of  the 
guilt  we  have  incurred,  and  the  pleasures 
we  have  lost."  And  here  again  Moses  pre- 
vailed. "  My  presence  shall  go  with  thcc," 
Jehovah  answered,  "  and  I  will  give  thee 
re.st." 

And  now,  surely,  this  intercessor  will 
stop.  No,  brethren  ;  the  more  prayer  ob- 
tains, the  more  it  asks  ;   the  more  s])i  ritual 


desires  are  gratified,  the  more  they  art'  en- 
larged. Moses  turns  from  Israel  to  himself. 
With  a  mixture  of  filial  boldness,  and  trem- 
bling  reverence,  and  holy  transport,  he  ab- 
ruptly cries,  "  I  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy 
jrlory."  And  this  bold  petition  too  is  grant- 
ed. In  a  moment  comes  from  the  cloudy 
l)illar  this  gracious  answer,  "  I  will  rnak* 
all  my  goodness  pass  before  thee." 

See  here  then  wliat  prayer  is  and  what 
prayer  does,  its  nature  and  its  power,  h 
is  a  longing  after  (^od,  which  nothing  shon 
of  the  full  enjoyment  of  God  can  satisfy. 
And  as  for  its  power,  it  can  do  all  things. 
It  knows  no  other  bounds  than  the  good  of 
the  sinner  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  omnipo- 
tence of  Jehovah  on  the  other.  "  Open  thy 
mouth  w^ide,"  the  Lord  says,  "  and  I  will 
fill  it."  "  Ye  shall  ask  what  ye  will,"  says 
Christ,  "  and  it  shall  be  done."  The  par- 
don of  all  our  sins,  free,  complete,  and  eter- 
nal ;  a  victory  over  every  lust ;  the  pres- 
ence of  God  with  us  all  through  this  dark 
world ;  his  glory  passing  before  our  eyes, 
and  shining  into  our  hearts  ;  guidance,  pro- 
tection, strength  ;  heavenly  consolations 
while  we  live,  and  heaven  itself  when  we 
die  ; — all  are  within  the  reach  of  prayer  ; 
within  our  reach  ;  nay,  held  up,  as  it  were, 
before  our  face,  with  this  inscription  shining 
on  them  all,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  have." 
"  Mercies  purchased,  prepared,  waiting  for 
praying  man." 

And  which  of  these  mercies  is  now  the 
object  of  this  prophet's  desire  ?  One  of  the 
highest  of  them  all — a  clear  and  full  dis- 
covery of  Jehovah's  glory. 

II.  Consider  his  petition. 

Its  precise  meaning  is  not  easily  discov- 
ered. Perhaps  Moses  himself  could  not 
have  defined  it.  It  might  be  that  he  wished 
to  behold  God  with  his  bodily  eyes,  face  to 
face.  In  this  sense,  he  is  told,  in  the  twen- 
tieth verse,  that  his  prayer  is  vain.  The 
King  of  kings  "  dwelleth  in  the  light  which 
no  man  can  approach  unto."  He  is  one 
"  whom  no  man  hath  seen  or  can  see."  He 
accordingly  declares  to  Moses,  "  Thou  canst 
not  see  my  face,  for  there  shall  no  man  see 
me,  and  live."  And  yet,  in  the  verse  pre- 
ceding, the  great  Searcher  of  hearts  appears 
to  have  understood  his  praying  servant  in  a 
different  sense.  He  says,  in  answer  to  his 
request,  "  I  will  make  all  my  goodness  pass 
before  thee,  and  I  will  proclaim  the  name 
of  the  Lord  before  thee." 

And  mark  how  this  promise  was  fulfilled 


80 


THE  PRAYER  OF  MOSES  FOR  A  VIEW  OF  GOD. 


Moses  is  irdciTfl  to  ascend  Mount  Sinai. 
There  tlie  Lord  meets  him,  but  still  hidden 
from  his  sight  by  the  same  veil  which  had 
before  concealed  him.  "  He  descended  in 
the  cloud,  and  stood  with  him  there."  And 
what  followed  ?  Was  the  cloud  rent  asun- 
der, and  the  Lord  of  the  universe  disclosed 
in  all  the  majesty  of  his  greatness  ?  No. 
The  prophet  may  strain  his  expecting  eyes, 
he  may  strive  to  pierce  the  covering  of  the 
Holy  One  ;  but  the  cloud  passes  by  him, 
dark  and  impenetrable.  He  sees  nothing  ; 
but  as  it  rolls  along,  he  hears  a  voice  pro- 
claiming from  the  midst  of  it  "  the  name  of 
the  Lord."  And  how  did  this  proclama- 
tion run  ?  In  this  august  and  yet  gracious 
style  ;  "  The  Lord  ;  the  Lord  God,  merci- 
ful and  gracious  ;  long-suffering,  and  abun- 
dant in  goodness  and  truth  ;  keeping  mercy 
for  thousands  ;  forgiving  iniquity,  and  trans- 
gression, and  sin,  and  tliat  will  by  no  means 
clear  the  guilty." 

We  are  warranted  then  in  coming  to 
this  conclusion — the  chief,  if  not  the  only 
object  of  the  prophet's  prayer,  was  a  clearer 
manifestation  of  the  divine  perfections,  a 
greater  knowledge  of  God,  a  closer  and 
mo»e  enlarged  view  of  those  attributes  which 
constitute  his  glory. 

1.  Hence  we  are  taught  by  this  petition, 
that  there  is  more  ghry  in  the  perfections  of 
God,  than  his  most  favored  servants  ever 
saw. 

Why  was  not  Moses  satisfied  ?  He  had 
seen  the  power  of  the  Almighty  in  the  won- 
dei's  he  had  wrought  in  Egypt.  He  had 
trembled  at  his  majesty  amid  the  blackness, 
and  darkness,  and  terrific  grandeur,  of 
mount  Sinai.  For  forty  days  and  forty 
nights,  he  had  been  surrounded  by  his 
brightness,  while  he  received  the  law  from 
his  moutii.  His  patience  had  been  dis- 
played ill  bearing  with  the  murmurings  and 
idolatry  of  Israel.  The  smitten  rock  and 
descending  manna  proclaimed  his  goodness. 
What  more  could  a  child  of  the  dust  re- 
quire ?     What  more  could  he  bear  ? 

If  we  turn  to  ourselves,  why  need  we 
offer  up  this  prayer  ?  Who  can  look  around, 
and  not  discover  his  Creator's  glory  ? 
Would  we  see  his  power  ?  a  thousand  shin- 
ing worlds  declare  its  greatness  «^ — his 
goodness?  the  earth  is  full  of  it ; — his  wis- 
dom 1  it  is  visible  in  every  blade  of  grass,  in 
every  movement  and  vessel  of  our  frame  ; — 
his  justice  ?  every  opened  grave  proclaims 
it  J  we  feel  it  in  the  griefs  and  troubles  of 


every  hour ; — his  patience  1  we  have  tried 
it,  and  know  it  to  be  almost  boundless. 

And  then  if  we  turn  from  the  vast  crea- 
tion  and  from  providence,  to  the  revelation 
made  of  God  in  the  gospel  of  his  Son — what 
can  an  angel  want  more  ?  There,  "  in  the 
face  of  Jesus  Christ,"  shines  his  glory  in  its 
full  radiance.  There  "treasures  of  wis- 
dom and  knowledge"  display  themselves. 
There  justice,  as  it  leads  the  Holy  One  of 
Israel  to  the  cross,  fills  us  with  awe.  There 
mercy  and  love  melt  us.  There  grace 
shines  in  its  freeness ;  providing  a  Sa- 
viour for  rebels  ;  in  its  sovereignty,  pass- 
ing by  the  angels  that  sinned,  and  making 
lost  man  its  object ; — in  its  unsearchable 
riches  ;  bringing  the  Fellow  of  Jehovah 
from  his  throne,  clothing  him  in  mortal  flesh, 
surrounding  him  with  eartlily  pollutions, 
and  pouring  into  his  soul  more  than  earthly 
griefs,  casting  him  on  the  ground  at  Geth- 
semane,  condemning  him  at  Golgotha,  cru- 
cifying him  in  gloom  and  terrors  at  Calvary, 
laying  him  mangled  in  the  grave.  O  what 
an  exhibition  of  every  divine  perfection  is 
here  !  Who  can  look  on  the  cross  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,  and  still  say  to  Jehovah,  "  Show 
me  thy  glory  ?"  Every  one,  brethren,  who 
looks  on  it  in  faith.  The  very  sight  of  the 
glory  which  is  manifested  there,  will  make 
his  heart  burn  to  behold  it  nearer. 

There  is  in  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead 
such  an  infinite  depth  and  height  of  glory, 
that  no  manifestation  can  display  it  all,  and 
no  created  being,  however  exalted,  can 
comprehend  it  all.  Take  the  highest  crea- 
ture in  the  universe  ;  place  him  in  the  im- 
mediate presence  of  God,  before  his  throne  ; 
and  give  him  all  the  powers  which  earth 
and  heaven  can  supply  ;  and  let  him  bend 
these  mighty  powers  for  years  and  ages  to 
this  one  effort,  to  know  God — and  what  has 
he  learned  of  him  ?  About  as  much  as  a 
mariner  knows  of  an  ocean  which  he  can 
neither  measure  nor  fathom.  The  prayer 
with  which  he  began  the  work  is  as  often 
on  his  lips  as  ever.  And  let  another  suc- 
cession of  ages  roll  away,  it  is  the  same. 
He  is  heard  crying  with  still  greater  fre- 
quency and  ardor,  "  Show  me  thy  glory.' 
And  what  does  he  say  to  every  one  who 
asks  him  of  the  knowledge  he  has  acquired  ? 
The  same  that  Zophar  said  to  the  bewil- 
dered Job  ;  "  Canst  thou  by  searching  find 
out  God  ?  Canst  thou  find  out  the  Al- 
mighty unto  perfection  ?  It  is  high  as  heav-' 
en  ;  what  canst  thou  do  ?  deeper  than  hell ; 


THE  PRA.YER  OF  MOSES  FOR  A  VIKW  OF  GOD. 


31 


what  canst  thou  kiMw  ?  The  mpasures 
thereof  is  h)iit!:or  tlian  tlie  euith,  and  broader 
than  the  sea." 

2.  This  truth  is  also  inmiied  in  the  text, 
tliat  none  but  God  can  give  'tis  even  that  par- 
iiaJ  di.scovcri/  of  his  glory,  which  we  are  ca- 
pahle  of  rcrcir/ng. 

Hero  nature,  witli  all  her  splendid  works, 
is  powerless.  Inquiry  and  study  can  do 
nothincr.  Nay,  the  jjospcl  itself,  thouirh  sent 
down  as  a  lijrht  from  heaven,  removes  not 
our  darkness.  Tiiese  thinnrs  may  teach  us 
somethini;  of  God  as  an  object  of  specula- 
tion or  science,  may  jjive  us  as  iwuch  know- 
ledtre  of  him  as  a  map  of  Eden  would  give 
us  of  paradise  ;  but  what  is  the  sum  of  it 
all?  It  is  no  more  to  be  compared  with 
that  sight  of  God,  for  whicn  the  Christian 
prays,  than  studying  bv  a  taper  the  nature 
of  the  sun,  is  to  be  compared  -with  tlie  light 
and  warniti)  whidi  frlyddon  us  at  noonday. 

This  Mosi^s  knew.  With  this  truth  every 
servant  of  God  js  acquainted.  Ask  him 
where  he  obtainerl  pis  lofty  conceptions  of 
Ihe  divine  gref'.tJ-^ST,  he  will  trace  them, 
»iot  to  the  sep-'ions  he  has  heard,  or  the 
»ooks  he  '■'a"  repi],  or  the  many  hours  of 
*)enit?tir>n  which  he  has  passed  ;  these  have 
oeen  the  means  or  channels  by  which 
•tnow'ef'ge  has  been  communicated  to  his 
nii^d  and  he  is  thankful  for  them  ;  but  as 
ior  the  source  of  it.  he  points  us  to  God  liim- 
eelf.  He  tells  us  that  it  is  a  wisdom  which 
has  come  from  above.  He  declares  with 
humble  thankfulness,  that  without  the  .spe- 
cial teaching  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  all  the 
means  of  irace  which  he  has  enjoyed,  would 
liave  left  him  as  ignorant  as  they  found  him  ; 
that  even  in  the  full  blaze  of  Jehovah's 
glory,  he  should  have  gone  down  to  the 
grave  with  his  mind  benighted,  knowing  no 
more  to  any. useful  purjKise  of  the  Being 
wlio  formed  him,  than  the  brutes  which 
perish. 

And  this  conviction  is  the  fruit  of  his  pre- 
.sent  experience.  Tliere  are  still  times 
when,  surrounded  hy  the  works  of  God, 
with  the  word  of  God  in  his  hanrls  and  per- 
haps sounding  in  his  cans,  he  feels  himself 
shut  out  from  God.  He  knows  that  he  is 
near  him,  but  he  is  near  him  in  a  cloud, 
shrouded  in  darkness.  In  spite  of  all  his 
efforts,  he  cannot  see  him.  He  is  no  more 
affected  by  his  glory,  than  as  though  the 
heavens  had  ceased  to  declare,  and  tiic 
•gospel  to  proclaim  it.  And  yet  wait  for  an 
liour.      The   Holy  Spirit  shines  into  that 


man's  heart ;  and,  without  adding  a  single 
idea,  one  atom,  to  his  knowledge,  he  hum- 
bles, and  elevates,  and  almost  overwhelms 
him  with  a  .sense  of  the  divine  glory. 

The  testimony  of  Saint  Paul  on  this  point 
is  exceedingly  strong.  "  The  natural  man," 
he  says,  "  receivcth  not  the  things  of  the 
Spirit  of  God,  for  they  are  foolishness  unto 
him  ;  neither  can  he  know  them,"  because 
they  are  spiritually  discerned."  In  another 
place,  he  sends  us  back  to  the  creation  of  the 
world.  He  bids  us  look  on  the  earth  "  with- 
out form  and  void,"  and  with  not  one  ray  of 
light  to  break  its  diirkncss.  Here,  he  tells  us, 
is  a  picture  of  the  mind  of  man  ;  not  of  man 
in  a  savage,  heathen  state  only,  but  of  man  in 
every  state,  under  all  possible  circumstan- 
ces, till  enlightened  from  above.  He  then 
reminds  us  of  the  voice  which  said,  "  Let 
there  be  light ;"  and  in  tlie  brightness 
which  that  voice  called  forth,  he  finds  an 
emblem  of  the  wonderful  chanfje  which  the 
mighty  power  of  God  had  efTected  in  his 
own  soul  by  a  discovery  of  his  glory.  "  God, 
who  commanded  tlie  light  to  shine  out  of 
darkness,  hath  shined  in  our  hearts,  to  give 
the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of 
God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ."  And 
Saint  Peter  takes  up  his  language.  He 
speaks  of  "  a  chosen  generation,  a  royal 
priesthood  ;"  and  whence  have  they  come  ? 
"  God,"  he  says,  "  hath  called  them  out  of 
darkness  into  his  marvellous  light." 

Wo  may  now  discover  the  meaning  of 
the  prophet's  supplication.  It  is  an  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  unseajchahle  glory  of 
Jehovah.  It  is  a  confession  of  the  feeble- 
ness and  blindness  of  his  own  mind.  It  is 
an  earnest  request  to  God,  not  so  much  for 
any  new  revelation  of  his  character,  as  for 
eyes  to  see  and  a  heart  to  feel  the  manifes- 
tation wlu'ch  he  has  already  made  of  him- 
self in  his  works  and  word.  It  is  a  prayer 
for  an  inward,  and  spiritual,  and  abiding 
sense  of  his  perfections,  such  as  may  give 
to  them  a  reality  and  power  which  earthly 
objects  may  not  remove,  nor  the  corruptions 
of  his  own  heart  deaden. 

3.  But  this  is  not  all.  There  is  included 
also  in  this  petition,  a  desire  that  God  toould 
reveal  to  the  soul  its  men  special  interest  in 
his  p'^rfectious. 

We  perceive  at  a  glance  that  this  desire 
must  accompany  the  other.  We  cannot 
look  with  the  eye  of  fiiitli  on  the  great  God, 
without  at  the  same  time  rememl)ering  that 
he  is  a  God  "  with  whom  we  have  to  do," 


32 


THE  PRAYER  OF  MOSES  FOR  A  VIEW  OF  GOD. 


and  anxiously  inquiring  into  the  nature  of 
that  relation  which  exists  between  him  and 
us.  Is  this  glorious  Being  my  friend  or  my 
enemy  ?  Are  these  stupendous  powers  ex- 
erted for  my  happiness  or  my  wo  ?  These 
are  questions  that  will  arise  in  the  heart,  as 
soon  as  a  ray  from  the  Holy  one  shines  on  it, 
and  they  must  be  answered  before  the  heart 
can  rest.  Left  to  ourselves,  we  never  can  ob- 
tain any  other  than  one  heart-sinking  reply 
to  them.  There  is  so  much  in  God,  even  in 
his  mercy,  to  awe  us,  and  so  much  in  our 
own  desperately  wicked  hearts  to  discourage 
us,  that  though  his  great  salvation  is  laid  at 
our  feet,  we  shrink  from  putting  our  unwor- 
thy hand  on  so  great  a  blessing.  The  good- 
ness we  adore  may  be  ours,  but  then  it  may 
not  be  ours  ;  and  the  least  uncertainty  in  an 
affair  of  such  fearful  moment,  is  almost 
more  than  we  can  bear.  "  Show  me  thy 
glory,"  means  therefore  nothing  less  than 
this — "  O  let  me  see  that  the  riches  of  thy 
goodness  can  reach  to  me  ;  that  thy  power 
will  befriend  and  not  destroy  me ;  that  thy 
faithfulness  is  pledged  to  save,  not  to  con- 
demn thy  servant ;  that  my  crimson  sins 
are  washed  away  by  thy  mercy  ;  that  this 
guilty  soul  has  found  a  p6,rdon  ;  that  this 
vile  heart  is  thine  !" 

And  when  this  prayer  is  heard  ;  when 
tiie  Holy  Spirit  shows  us  God,  not  as  "  a 
consuming  fire,"  but  as  "  rich  in  mercy 
untoall  that  call  upon  him  ;"  when  he  throws 
open  before  us  the  book  of  life,  and  shows 
us  our  own  poor  names  written  there  ;  when 
we  are  enabled  to  look  upon  the  mighty  Lord 
of  the  heavens  .and  the  earth  as  our  re- 
conciled Father,  through  him  who  "  hath 
made  peace  by  the  blood  of  his  cross  ;" 
when  we  can  say  to  him  in  his  majesty, 
"■  My  Lord,  and  my  God  !"  and  hear  him 
saying  to  us,  "  Thou  art  mine  ;" — O  what 
a  sight  of  the  divine  glory  have  we  then  ! 
O  what  a  wonderful  blessedness  is  ours  ! 
This  is  called  "  the  secret  of  the  Lord, 
which  is  with  them  that  fear  him  ;"  "  the 
lifting  up  of  the  light  of  his  countenance 
upon  them."  This  is  indeed  the  unveiling 
of  his  face,  the  shining  forth  of  his  glory. 

IlL  Such  was  the  prayer  of  Moses.  Let 
us  consid'-r,  in  the  third  place,  the  reasons 
why  7or  .should  make  it  our  oum. 

1.  We  ought  thus  to  pray,  because  such 
a  manifcfilalion  of  the  divine  glory  is  hum- 
bling. And  this  is  the  object  at  which  we 
should  be  ever  aiming,  to  lie  down  in  the 
dust ;  to  be  delivered  from  that  proud,  and 


self-sufficient,  and  independent  spirit  which 
reigns  unchecked  in  hell,  and  to  feel  some- 
thing of  that  subdued  and  lowly  frame  of 
mind,  which  lays  angels  and  archangels 
prostrate  before  the  throne  in  heaven. 

But  how  difficult  a  work  is  this  !  None 
more  difficult  or  more  disheartening.  It  is 
easy  to  use  modest  and  even  strongly  abas- 
ing language  concerning  ourselves  ;  to  call 
ourselves,  within  these  walls,  "  miserable 
sinners,"  and,  among  our  Christian  friends, 
"  worms  of  the  dust,  viler  than  the  vilest ;" 
but  really  to  "  walk  humbly  with  our  God  ;" 
in  very  deed  to  force  our  high  thoughts  and 
lofty  imaginations  down  ;  to  empty  the  soul 
of  all  that  has  been  its  pride  in  company 
and  its  confidence  alone  ;  to  strip  it  bare,  a 
poor,  defiled,  guilty,  dark,  helpless  thing  ; — 
O  this  is  a  work  so  exceedingly  hard,  so 
passing  all  human  strength,  that  the  heart 
almost  breaks  in  its  struggles  to  accomplish 
it.  But  a  sight  of  the  divine  glory  effects 
it.  We  behold  God,  and  the  dust  is  our 
station. 

Look  at  Isaiah.  The  glory  of  the  Lord 
fills  his  temple.  He  sees  it,  and  the  next 
moment  he  complains  of  his  uncleanness  and 
his  wo.  Look  at  Job.  "  Mine  eye  seeth 
thee,"  he  says  to  his  God  ;  "  wherefore  I 
abhor  myself."  And  look  at  Moses  on  this 
very  occasion.  The  Lord  revealed  him- 
self to  him,  and  then  Moses  "  made  haste 
and  bowed  his  head  toward  the  earth,  and 
worshipped."  And  what  followed  ?  An 
immediate  remembrance  of  guilt.  This  is 
his  very  next  prayer,  "  Pardon  our  iniquity 
and  our  sin." 

2.  But  humility  is  not  the  only  fruit  of 
such  a  manifestation  ;  a  view  of  God  is  uni- 
versally sanctifying.  It  transforms  the 
whole  soul ;  "  renews  it  again  after  the 
image  of  him  that  created  it;"  it  makes  it 
like  the  God  it  contemplates. 

Is  this  lofty  language  ?  Is  it  not  loftier 
than  the  Holy  Spirit  has  taught  a  creature 
of  dust  and  ashes  to  use  ?  "  We  all,"  says 
Saint  Paul,  "  beholding  as  in  a  glass  the 
glory  of  the  Lord,  are  changed  into  the  same 
image,  from  glory  to  ^-:;lory,  even  as  by  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord." 

The  face  of  Moses  shone  when  he  came 
down  from  the  mount ;  the  reflected  rays  of 
the  divine  Majesty  lingered  on  it  ;  the  peo- 
ple saw  that  he  had  been  with  God.  It  is 
ever  thus.  No  man  leaves  the  presence  of 
Christ,  without  carrying  with  him  that 
which  will  distinguish  him  from  other  men  j 


THE  PRAYER  OF  MOSES  FOR  A  VIEW  OF  GOD. 


a  mind  less  preyed  on  by  worldly  cares  ; 
affections  elevated  above  worldly  vanities  ; 
a  holy  abhorrence  of  all  that  is  polluting 
and  base  ;  a  soaring  of  the  thoughts  and 
/le.^ires  to  heaven  ;  an  humble  professing 
and  sustaining  of  this  character — a  pilgrim 
and  a  stranger  on  the  earth,  a  native  of 
liraven  in  a  foreign  land.  The  world 
around  him  will  "  take  knowledge  of  him 
that  he  has  been  with  Jesus;''  for  "the 
Spirit  of  glory  and  of  God  resteth  upon  him." 

3.  Hence  we  may  observe  further,  that 
a  spiritual  view  of  the  divine  glory  is  estab- 
lishing. 

Your  natural  life,  brethren,  is  every  mo- 
ment endangered.  Its  continuance  is  a 
standing  miracle  ;  at  least  it  is  a  standing 
proof  of  Jehovah's  omnipotence.  Your 
spiritual  life  is  still  more  exposed.  It  is  a 
light  burning  amidst  waves  ;  a  spark  on 
an  ocean. 

The  mere  professor  of  Christianity  knows 
notiiing  of  these  dangers  which  beset  the 
soul  ;  but  if  you  are  in  the  way  to  heaven, 
you  know  and  you  feel  them  ;  there  are 
times  when  they  make  you  tremble.  Now 
how  are  they  to  be  overcome  ?  Their  ori- 
gin will  point  out  their  remedy.  Trace  to 
its  source  every  error  that  harasses  and 
pollutes  the  Christian  Church,  every  cor- 
ruption that  puffs  up  the  young  and  blinds 
the  old — you  discover  folly  where  you  look- 
ed for  wisdom  ;  you  stand  astonished  at  the 
ignorance  of  God  in  which  the  partially  en- 
lightened mind  can  rest,  at  the  low  concep- 
tions of  Jehovah's  glory  at  which  a  worm 
of  the  earth  dares  to  stop.  One  right 
thought  of  God  would  silence  half  the  con- 
troversies which  distract  the  world,  and 
make  men  who  now  dispute,  bend  down  and 
pray. 

Your  safety  then  lies  in  the  spirit  which 
breathed  the  prayer  before  us.  Naturally 
all  your  ideas  of  God  are  narrow  and  mean. 
He  has,  in  some  degree,  enlarged  and  raised 
tliem.  Be  thankful ;  but  as  you  value 
your  souls,  rest  not  in  any  of  your  present 
discoveries  or  attainments.  Press  forward. 
Aim,  like  Moses,  at  high  things.  Like  Paul, 
count  "  all  things  but  loss  for  the  excel- 
lency of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  your 
Lord."  Breathe  after  a  nearer  and  closer 
communion  with  God.  Deem  notiiing  be- 
yond a  .sinner's  reach,  when  a  sinner  pleads 
in  the  name  of  his  righteous  Lord.  There 
is  no  humility  in  turning  away  from  the 
blessings  which  God  has  commanded  you 
5 


to  seek  ;  there  is  no  presumption  in  thirst- 
ing for  the  mercies  which  he  has  promised 
to  give.  A  little  religion,  a  cold,  comfort, 
less  piety,  may  be  a  treasure  ;  but  it  is  one 
which  is  easily  lost,  which  it  is  hardly  pos- 
sible to  hold.  To  think  of  passing  with  it 
to  heaven,  througli  such  a  world  as  this,  is 
to  take  a  lamp  which  is  only  half  lighted, 
and  expect  it  to  guide  you  through  the  tu- 
mult of  a  storm.  "  The  joy  of  the  Lord" — 
that  is  "  your  strength."  "  The  peace  of 
God" — it  is  that  which  "shall  keep  your 
hearts." 

4.  There  is  one  reason  more  why  we 
should  take  this  prayer  as  our  own  ;  it  is  a 
prayer  which  is  absoJutehj  necessary. 

Shall  I  say  that  there  is  no  salvation  for 
the  soul  without  the  blessing  which  it  sup- 
plicates ?  witliout  a  discovery  of  the  glory 
of  God,  of  which  multitudes,  even  in  this 
Christian  land,  know  nothing,  and  which 
God  only  can  give  ?  The  Bible  would  con- 
firm the  saying,  but  the  fearful  and  dejected 
might  misapply  it.  This  is  a  plainer  de- 
claration, and  one  which  is  as  true,  as  that 
all  who  live  shall  die — no  man  shall  see  the 
face  of  God  in  heaven,  who  does  not  desire  to 
see  his  glory  here  on  earth.  Bring  before  us 
a  sinner  drawing  near  to  heaven,  and  there 
is  a  man  whose  wishes,  in  his  happiest  mo- 
ments, might  all  be  summed  up  in  this  one 
short  petition,  "  Show  me  thy  glory."  There 
is  nothing  strange  in  this  language,  nothing 
peculiar  to  Moses.  The  scripture  is  full  of 
it.  What  are  the  psalms  which  are  read 
in  your  hearing  every  sabbath-day  ?  Is  not 
this  the  substance  of  many  of  them,  "  Show 
me  thy  glory  ?"  This  is  tlie  enraptured  cry 
of  the  church  above  ;  it  has  ever  been  one 
of  the  most  earnest  prayers  of  the  church 
below.  Is  it  your  prayer  ?  What  do  you 
know  of  this  longing  after  God  ? 

You  have  perhaps  for  many  years  gone 
up  to  the  house  of  God  ;  you  have  joined 
there  in  many  thousand  prayers,  attended 
many  sacraments,  heard  many  sermons. 
Now  what  has  been  the  one  great  leading 
desire  of  your  soul  in  all  these  things  ? 
Has  it  been  to  acquaint  yourselves  with 
God  ?  Can  you  say,  with  David,  "  One 
thing  have  I  desired  of  the  Lord,  that  will  I 
seek  after  ;  that  I  may  dwell  in  the  house 
of  the  Lord  all  the  days  of  my  life,  to  be- 
hold the  beauty  of  the  Lord,  and  to  inquire 
in  his  temple  ?"  Can  you  goon  with  him, 
and  express  no  more  than  the  feelings  of 
your  own  heart  as  you  say,  "  O  God,  thou 


34 


THE  TWO  BUILDERS. 


art  my  God  ;  early  will  I  seek  thee.  My 
soul  thirsletli  for  thee,  my  flesh  lon£jeth  for 
thee,  in  a  dry  and  thirsty  land  where  no 
water  is  ;  to  see  thy  power  and  tliy  glory, 
so  as  I  have  seen  thee  in  the  sanctuary  ?" 
Then  this  is  the  voice  which  even  now 
reaches  the  ear  of  Jehovah,  and  you  are 
the  men  of  whom  it  speaks,  and  the  eternal 
Jesus  is  the  Being  from  whom  it  comes, 
"  Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom  thou 
hast  given  me,  he  with  me  where  I  am,  that 
they  may  behold  my  glory." 


SERMON    VI. 


THE   TWO   BUILDERS 

St.  Luke  vl.  47,  48,  49. 

Whosoever  comcth  to  me,  and  heareth  my  sayings^ 
and  doeik  them,  I  will  show  you  to  whom  he  is 
like  ;  he  is  like  a  man  which  built  an  house,  and 
digi^ed  deep,  and  laid  the  foundation  on  a  rock ; 
and  when  the  flood  arose,  the  stream  beat  vehe- 
mently upon  that  house,  and  could  not  shake  it, 
for  it  t'v/s  founded  upon  a  rock.  But  he  that 
heareth  and  doeth  not,  is  like  a  7nan  that,  with- 
out  a  foundation,  built  an  house  upon  the  earth; 
against  which  the  stream  did  beat  vehemently, 
and  immediately  it  fell,  and  the  ruin  of  that 
house  was  great. 

Much  as  all  of  us  within  these  walls  re- 
semble one  another,  there  is  yet  between  us 
a  most  affecting  difference.  Our  form  and 
nature  arc  the  same  ;  our  conditions,  and 
Avants,  and  troubles,  are  alike  ;  but  beneath 
this  outward  resemblance,  there  lies  unseen, 
and  perhaps  unthought  of,  a  dissimilarity 
of  the  very  utmost  importance.  Some  of 
us  are  the  friends  of  the  living  God,  while 
others  arc  his  enemies.  Some  of  us  will 
live  forever  in  unutterable  bliss,  while  oth- 
ers will  live  as  long  in  unuttcrrable  wo ; 
in  wo  greater  than  was  ever  experienced 
in  this  world  of  merev,  and  bliss  higher 
than  was  ever  known  in  this  world  of  sin. 
•  It  is  this  awful  distinction  in  our  charac- 
ter and  end,  that  the  text  you  have  now 
heard  is  designed  to  represent.  May  the 
Holy  Ghost  give  you  a  listening  ear  and  a 
serious  mind,  while  your  attontion  is  direct- 
ed, first  to  the  similarity  hetwron  tlio  inen 
whose  conduct  is  described  in  if,  and,  sec- 
ondly, to  the  difTerence  between  them. 


1.  1.  As  to  their  similarity,  you  will 
observe  that  they  were  hoik  builders.  Both 
are  described  as  actually  at  work.  It  is 
clear  then  that  we  have  nothing  to  do,  in 
this  case,  with  the  openly  profane  and  care- 
less. Our  Lord  is  referring  to  persons  oi 
a  class  altogether  different  ;  to  such  as 
hear,  and  read,  and  outwardly  respect  his 
fjospel  ;  to  such  as  get  acquainted  with  its 
doctrines,  and  precepts,  and  gracious  prom- 
ises ;  to  just  such  people  as  we  ourselves  are. 

We  are  in  danger  of  losing  sight  of  this 
fact,  brethren.  We  often  send  off  our 
thoughts  out  of  this  church  to  others,  when 
the  scripture  we  are  considering  requires  us 
to  keep  them  fixed  on  ourselves.  Our 
business  now  evidently  lies  at  home.  The 
men  set  before  us  here  are  not  such  of  our 
neighbors  as  are  profaning  this  sacred  day, 
for  each  of  the  persons  in  the  parable  is  said 
to  hear  the  sayings  of  Christ ; — they  are 
oui-selves,  those  amongst  us,  who  are  now 
listening  attentively  to  his  words. 

2.  And  these  men  are  not  builders  only  ; 
they  both,  we  are  told,  built  a  house,  a  fab- 
ric of  the  same  description,  and  intended  to 
answer  the  same  purpose — to  be  their  dwell- 
ing-place, their  place  of  safety  and  comfort, 
their  home. 

And  all  of  us  have  the  same  object  in 
view  in  our  religious  profession ;  at  least, 
if  we  have  any  object,  it  is  this — to  find  a 
shelter  ;  to  get  something  that  will  support 
us  under  the  cares  of  life,  console  us  in  its 
troubles,  and,  when  eternity  comes,  be  a 
refuge  to  us  from  the  wrath  of  God.  And 
the  house  that  we  raise  with  this  object  in 
view,  is  in  appearance  the  same.  We  all 
hear  the  same  gospel,  all  call  on  the  same 
Lord,  all  profess  to  hope  in  the  same  Sa- 
viour, all  desire  to  dwell  in  the  same  heaven. 

3.  Observe  too  that  the  house  of  each  oj 
these  builders  has  its  strength  severely  tried. 
On  both,  as  Saint  Matthew  tells  us,  "  the 
rain  descended,  and  the  floods  came,  and  the 
winds  blew  ;"  on  both,  as  we  are  told  here, 
"  the  stream  did  beat  vehemently  ;"  each 
evangelist  applying  exactly  the  same  words 
to  both  buildings,  tiiough  differing  one  from 
the  other  as  to  the  i)recise  expressions. 

We  also,  brethren,  must  expect  our  reli- 
gion to  he  brought  to  the  test.  Perhaps  it 
has  been  tried  already.  If  not,  a  time  of 
trial  will  overtake  it ;  a  time  when  the  real 
character  of  it  will  appear,  when  it  will  be 
seen  what  hold  it  has  on  our  minds,  and 
what  it  can  do  for  us. 


THE  TWO  BUILDERS 


35 


This  trial  begins  at  flifTcront  periods,  and 
assails  in  diJTercnt  shapes.  Some  are  called 
on  to  undergo  it  as  soon  as  they  begin  to 
separate  themselves  from  a  thoughtless 
world  ;  others  are  left  alone  till  a  long 
season  of  tranquillity  has  past.  In  some 
cases,  the  storms  of  tribulation  are  to  be 
withstood  ;  in  others,  the  floods  of  persecu- 
tion ;  in  most,  the  streams  of  temptation  ; 
and  in  a  few,  all  these  combined. 

And  it  matters  not,  in  this  point  of  view, 
whether  Our  religion  is  genuine  or  lalse.  If 
it  influences  our  conduct,  we  sliall  not  be  let 
alone.  The  world  and  Satan  will  generally 
allow  us  to  think  as  we  like,  but  they  will 
not  quietly  let  us  act  as  though  wc  were 
acting  for  eternity. 

Till  this  trial  comes,  we  can  know  but 
little  of  ourselves.  Almost  any  religion 
will  stand  in  a  calm.  It  is  temptation — 
trifling,  worldly,  and  sensual  companions  ;  it 
is  afniction — disappointment,  poverty,  sick- 
ness, mental  op[)ression  ;  it  is  a  change  of 
scene,  or  circumstances,  or  society  ; — these 
are  the  things  which  show  us  what  manner 
of  men  we  are,  and  often  surprise  and  con- 
found us  by  the  discovery  they  make. 

But  even  if  we  could  escape  all  these 
things,  we  cannot  escape  the  trial  of  that 
day  which  will  lay  bare  the  secrets  of  every 
heart ;  a  day  which  will  place  an  assem- 
bled world  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ, 
and  leave  not  a  single  self-deceiver  un- 
stripped,  not  a  single  hypocrite  undismayed, 
not  one  trembling  believer  disappointed  or 
unblessed. 

II.  Tims  far  then  we  trace  a  perfect 
similarity  between  these  two  characters ; 
and  this  similarity  is  to  be  found  in  real 
life  every  day  and  in  almost  eveiy  place. 
Men  who  are  Christians  in  name  only,  often 
bear  so  close  a  resemblance  to  those  who 
are  Christians  in  truth,  that  the  most  quick- 
sighted  observer  fails  to  perceive  the  dif- 
ference. It  is  known  only  to  their  own 
hearts.  It  is  perhaps  unknown  even  tliere  ; 
neither  they  themselves,  nor  men,  nor  an- 
gels, mark  it;  none  but  the  heart-searching 
God.  Still  this  difference,  though  fjr  a 
time  concealed,  is  great,  is  most  important, 
is  in  fact  sucii,  that  in  the  midst  of  fair  pre- 
tensions, and  promising  appearances,  and 
blameless  conduct,  and  perhaps  lively  feel- 
ings, it  ruins  the  soul.  Let  us  proceed  then 
to  inquire  wherein  it  frequently  consists. 

1.  One  of  these  men  huill  his  house  with 
foresight  ;  the  other  heec'kssJy. 


When  they  began  to  work,  the  air  was 
quiet  and  the  sky  clear ;  no  storms  were 
rising  nor  floods  swelling.  One  of  tiiem 
was  deceived  by  this  calm,  and  built  his 
house  as  though  it  were  to  have  nothing  to 
try  it.  The  other,  on  the  contrary,  expected 
winds  and  rains,  the  rusliing  tori'ent  and 
the  sweeping  tempest ;  and  he  acted  ac 
cordingly ;  he  built  a  house  that  would 
M-ithstand  their  shock.  Now  a  real  Chris- 
tian resembles  him  in  caution.  Other  men 
are  satisfied  witli  a  religion  that  will  an- 
swer their  present  purpose,  quiet  tiieir  own 
conscience,  and  make  them  respectable 
among  their  neighbors.  There  is  no  fore- 
thought, no  spirit  of  inquiry,  no  earnest 
anxiety  to  be  right,  mixed  up  with  it.  And 
the  reason  is  plain — they  are  unacquainted 
with  the  greatness  of  the  evils  for  which 
they  need  a  remedy.  They  have  never 
really  known  the  plague  of  their  own  heart  j 
never  seen  their  guilt  in  its  true  colors ; 
never  felt  the  condemned,  perishing,  and 
helpless  .state  into  which  sin  has  brought 
them  ;  never  discovered  how  near  they  are 
to  a  dreadful  hell.  They  have  slight  views 
of  the  law,  slight  views  of  sin,  slight  views 
of  the  awful  holiness  of  God. 

Not  so  however  the  true  Christian.  The 
Holy  Spirit  has  shown  him  the  misery  of 
his  lost  condition  ;  he  has  enabled  him  to 
see  his  present  wants  and  the  evils  that  are 
coming  on  him.  A  religion  therefore  which 
will  satisfy  his  own  conscience  and  his 
neighbors,  is  not  what  he  cares  for ;  he 
wants  a  religion  that  will  bring  pardon  and 
strength  with  it,  purity  and  salvation  ;  a 
religion  that  will  satisfy  his  God.  He  looks 
forward.  It  is  for  futurity  that  he  most 
anxiou.sly  wishes  to  provide.  He  labors 
for  something  that  will  endure  a  storm  ;  a 
faith  that  will  support  him  when  every 
thing  else  gives  way  ;  a  hope  that  will  bear 
him  up  when  conscience  stings,  and  Satan 
accuses,  and  death  strikes  ;  a  refuge  for 
his  soul  amidst  the  convulsions  and  teri-ors 
of  a  departing  world. 

2.  And  this  foresight  causes  him  to  differ 
in  another  respect  from  tiie  mere  pretender 
to  religion  ;  for  observe  tha.t  the  first  of  these 
men  in  the  parable  is  a  pains-taking,  the 
other  a  coniparativcly  indolent  builder.  One 
builds  his  house  "  on  the  earth,"  where  he 
can  erect  it  without  much  cost  or  labor  ; 
but  the  other  digs  deep  "  into  a  rock  ;"  and 
there,  while  the  structure  of  his  fellow, 
builder  is  rising  rapidly  before  his  eyes,  be 


36 


THE  TWO  BUILDERS. 


is  employed  below  the  surface,  cutting  into 
the  unyielding  stone. 

It  is  precisely  thus  in  spiritual  concerns. 
It  is  an  easy  thing  to  make  a  profession  of 
piety,  and  as  easy,  in  certain  situations,  to 
give  to  that  profession  the  appearance  of 
reality.  We  every  day  see  persons  who 
have  suddenly  attained,  without  labor  or 
difficulty,  a  degree  of  confidence  which 
makes  the  inexperienced  wonder,  and  the 
aged  mourn.  A  few  short  weeks  or  months 
seem  to  have  carried  them  further  towards 
heaven,  than  years  of  conflict  have  brought 
their  humble  neighbor.  They  are  ready 
with  joy  to  put  on  the  top-stone  of  their 
building,  almost  before  it  was  hoped  that 
the  foundation  was  really  laid.  VVe  dare 
not  say  that  in  every  case  all  this  fair  ap- 
pearance is  fallacious;  but  this  we  say, 
brethren — as  you  love  your  souls,  aim  not 
at  swell  a  show  of  piety  as  this.  True 
religion  is  a  laborious  work,  and  the  most 
important  parts  of  it  are  those  which  re- 
quire the  greatest  labor,  and  make  the  least 
appearance.  The  heart  must  be  the  chief 
object  of  solicitude.  Dig  deep  there. 
Strive  to  get  that  humbled,  softened,  broken  ; 
to  get  into  it  something  like  a  just  sense  of 
desperate  wickedness,  and  a  just  abhorrence 
of  its  pollutions.  Strive  to  get  its  "  high 
imaginations"  cast  down,  its  self-will  sub- 
dued, its  evil  lusts  rooted  out.  Strive  to 
have  it  touched  whh  the  love  of  Christ.  Be 
practical  Christians  ;  men  of  inquiry,  and 
watchfulness,  and  exertion,  rather  thancon- 
fideiiue  ;  of  fear  and  trembling,  rather  than 
triiiiiij.ji  ;  of  secret  prayer,  rather  than  open 
disjjlay.  As  "  trees  of  righteousness,  the 
planting  of  the  Lord,"  aim  to  strike  your 
roots  deep,  rather  than  to  raise  your  heads 
high  ;  to  be  prepared  for  the  blasts  of  win- 
ter, rather  than  to  be  admired  in  the  summer 
calm.  Bring  forth  fruit,  but  let  it  be  fruit 
"  in  its  season,"  and  "  to  the  glory  of  Cod." 

3.  But  there  is  a  still  more  important 
diffi-rence  between  these  builders — one  looks 
well  to  thefoundalion  of  his  house  ;  the  other 
is  mdijfcrent  ohout  it.  The  building  of  the 
one  has  a  foundation,  and  that  foundation 
stands  on  a  rock,  is  let  into  it ;  the  structure 
of  the  other  has  no  foundation  whatsoever. 
He  chooses  the  sjjot  that  seems  to  him  the 
most  pleasant  and  inviting,  and  there,  with- 
out any  further  thought,  perhaps  in  opposi- 
tion to  much  friendly  warning,  he  erects 
his  dwelling  on  a  bed  of  sand. 

And  nerc  we  discover  the  main  difference 


between  the  Christian  and  the  iriere  profes- 
sor.  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  the  rock  on 
which  the  one  stands,  while  the  other  is 
resting  elsewhere.  In  the  one  case,  chari- 
ties, or  prayers,  or  doctrines,  or  feelings, 
are  the  grounds  of  dependence.  When  the 
man  has  misgivings  concerning  eternity,  he 
thinks  of  what  he  has  done,  or  suffered,  or 
experienced,  and  is  quieted.  In  the  other 
case,  all  these  things,  as  grounds  of  hope, 
are  thrown  aside.  There  is  still  a  disposi- 
tion to  overvalue  them  and  lean  on  them  ; 
but  the  heaven-taught  sinner  struggles  to 
keep  it  down.  He  knows  that  such  a  dispo- 
sition indulged  is  nothing  less  than  death 
to  the  soul  ;  and  casting  away  his  own 
righteousness,  he  "  submits  himself  to  the 
righteousness  of  God."  He  flies  to  the 
great  Redeemer,  and  stays  himself  on  him. 
In  him  he  finds  all  that  he  wishes  for,  and 
all  that  he  needs.  Christ  becomes  his  "  all  in 
all."  So  entirely  is  his  confidence  grounded 
in  him  alone,  that  could  he  be  separated 
from  him,  though  he  were  as  devout  as 
David  or  as  holy  as  Paul,  he  feels  that  he 
must  perish,  perish  as  surely  and  as  fatally 
as  the  most  abandoned  sinner.  He  hears 
the  sayings  of  Christ,  he  does  them — that 
is  the  evidence  and  proof  of  his  faith  ;  but 
it  is  not  his  hope — his  hope  rests  on  that 
"  chief  corner-stone,  elect  and  precious," 
which  the  eternal  God  has  ''  laid  in  Zion." 
4.  There  is  one  point  more  to  be  noticed  ; 
mark  the  difference  in  the  end  of  these  men. 
And  in  order  to  understand  the  language 
in  which  this  is  described,  we  must  bear  in 
mind  that  rains  in  eastern  countries  are 
heavier,  and  continue  longer,  than  in  our 
own.  They  consequently,  in  mountainous 
regions  like  Judea,  often  form  torrents  ;  and 
these,  as  they  rush  down  from  the  heights, 
are  sometimes  so  furious  in  their  course, 
that  none  but  the  strongest  buildings  can 
resist  their  violence.  Hurricanes  also  fre- 
quently accompany  them,  and  add  to  the 
devastation  they  create.  Our  Lord  pre- 
sents to  us,  in  this  parable,  a  scene  of  this 
kind.  He  describes  the  rain  descending, 
the  floods  gradually  rising,  the  winds  blow- 
ing  ;  at  length  the  sweeping  torrent  rushes 
down.  Now  comes  the  hour  of  trial.  Will 
the  two  houses  stand  ?  The  stream  takes 
them  ;  "  it  beats  vehemently"  upon  them. 
One  shakes  for  a  moment,  and  the  next 
moment  it  is  gone.  And  which  is  it  ?  'ilie 
baseless  fabric  that  was  erected  on  the  sand. 
All  the  labor  and  expense  of  the  builder  are 


THE  TWO  BUILDERS. 


37 


now  lost,  and  instead  of  finding  a  shelter  in 
the  habitation  he  had  raised,  it  has  served 
only  to  proclaim  his  folly,  and  expose  hiin 
to  shame.  And  mark  the  time  at  which  it 
fell.  It  was  in  the  storm,  in  the  very  hour 
when  the  man  had  the  most  need  of  it,  and 
expected  the  most  from  it. 

And  thus  does  the  self-deceiver  fall.  Af- 
fliction perhaps  brings  him  low,  or  perhaps 
the  prospect  of  death.  In  other  cases,  the 
assaults  of  temptation  first  undermine  and 
then  overthrow  his  weak  principles.  The 
world  entangles  and  pollutes,  till  it  brings 
him  to  cast  off  even  the  form  of  godliness. 
Some  bosom  sin  leads  him  captive,  and  at 
last  betrays  him. 

But  even  if  he  stands  unmoved  by  these 
things,  his  religion  must  come,  in  the  end, 
to  a  test  which  none  can  bscape.  In  the 
great  day  of  judgment,  "  every  man's  work 
will  be  tried  as  by  fire,"  and  then  the  ex- 
pectation of  thousands  will  perish,  perish  at 
the  very  moment  when  they  look  for  it  to  be 
realized.  In  the  midst  of  flattering  friends 
and  rising  hopes,  they  die  ;  and  what  fol- 
lows ?  A  sudden  and  mournful  ruin. 
"  The  ruin  of  that  house  is  great,"  so  gi'eat, 
so  tremendous,  that  eternity  cannot  repair 
it,  nor  time  blot  out  the  remembrance  of  it. 
We  may  sigh  over  'the  desolations  of  an 
earthquake  ;  we  may  think  of  mouldering 
cities,  of  Babylon  the  great,  and  Rome  the 
powerful,  and  mourn  over  the  strange  havoc 
which  has  laid  them  low  ;  but  what  are 
ruined  cities  to  a  ruined  soul  ?  The  flaming 
temple  at  Jerusalem  is  said  to  have  forced 
tears  from  the  eyes  of  its  heathen  conqueror ; 
but  what  again  was  the  fall  of  that  splendid 
fabric,  when  compared  with  the  everlasting 
destruction  of  an  undone  sinner  ?  The 
Lord  would  not  so  much  as  stretch  forth 
his  arm  to  save  the  one  ;  he  sent  his  only 
begotten  Son  to  the  cross  to  redeem  the 
other. 

But  let  us  turn  from  this  scene  of  desola- 
tion to  a  brighter  prospect.  The  house  on 
the  rock  stands.  The  stream  beat  as  ve- 
hemently against  it  as  against  the  other 
house,  but  it  could  not  even  shake,  much 
less  overthrow  it.  And  what,  brethren,  can 
harm  the  sinner  who  is  resting  on  tiie  Rock 
of  a^es  ?  What  can  trouble  do  ?  It  may 
be  felt,  but  it  cannot  destroy.  Let  it  "  come 
in  as  a  flood,"  and  let  persecution  and 
temptation  add  to  its  shock  ;  it  may  make 
the  feeble  sufferer  shrink  as  it  approaches  ; 
it  may  leave  on   him  as  it   retires   some 


marks  of  its  fury  ;  but  he  is  neither  over- 
thrown  nor  shaken.  And  let  judgment 
come,  he  is  still  unmoved.  "  Tliou.sands 
mav  fall  at  his  side,  and  ten  thousands  at 
his  right  hand  ;"  worlds  may  be  wrecked 
and  disappear  ;  but  there  stands  his  house 
still,  a  secure  and  quiet  habitation,  an  ever- 
lasting, nay,  a  glorious  monument  to  Jeho- 
vah's praise. 

We  are  now  come  to  the  end  of  the  para- 
l)le.  There  are  several  truths  wliich  this 
review  of  it  ought  to  leave  imj^ressed  on  us. 

It  shows  us,  first,  the  object  of  true  religion. 

The  gospel  is  one  great  remedy  for  hu- 
man ills,  and  more  especially  for  that  great- 
est of  all  conceivable  evils,  a  hopeless  eter- 
nity. Its  main  design  is  not  to  moralize  or 
comfort,  but  to  "  save  the  soul  alive."  Now 
a  real  Christian  regards  the  gospel  in  this 
light ;  he  seeks  salvation  by  it.  He  needs 
present  consolation  as  much  as  other  men, 
and  is  as  thankful  for  it  when  it  comes  ;  but 
this  is  not  his  first  or  great  concern  ;  he 
is  anxious  that  it  may  be  well  with  him  at 
the  last  ;  that  when  he  dies,  he  may  have 
a  refuge  in  eternity. 

Is  this,  brethren,  the  object  at  which  you 
are  aiming  ?  Is  this  the  chief  subject  of 
your  prayers  and  hopes  ?  Have  you  ever 
thought  of  this  ?  While  weeks  and  years 
are  passing  swiftly  on,  while  perhaps  labor, 
and  trouble,  and  sickness,  are  hastening  you 
to  your  graves,  do  you  ever  remember  that 
you  have  a  precious  and  inmiortal  soul  to 
save  ?  that  you  have  nothing  less  than  hell 
to  escape,  and  nothing  less  than  heaven  to 
win  ?  Many  of  us  never  think  of  this. 
We  build  for  the  world  diligently,  painfully. 
O  what  cares,  and  anxieties,  and  toils,  do 
we  undergo  in  tne  work  !  But  as  for  eter- 
nity,  we  build  not  at  all ;  or  if  we  attempt 
to  provide  a  refuge  from  its  miseries,  what 
is  it  that  we  raise  ?  A  poor,  miserable  hut, 
which  the  slightest  Ijrcath  lays  on  the 
ground. 

And  how  long  shall  it  he  thus  with  us? 
It  will  be  thus  to  our  dying  hour,  unless 
we  bestir  ourselves  ;  unless  we  call  upon 
God  to  arouse  us  ;  unless  we  resolve  to  lose 
any  thing  or  every  thing,  rather  than  our 
souls. 

We  may  learn  here  also  the  nature  of 
true  religion.  It  is  something  more  than  a 
form,  a  creed,  a  feeling,  a  succession,  of 
hopes  and  fears.  As  it  is  represented  in 
this  text,  it  is  a  building,  a  work,  a  pro- 
gressive  labor.     Its  object  is  the  salvation 


38 


THE  TWO  BUILDERS. 


of  the  soul,  and  its  character  is  simply  this — 
an  earnest  and  unceasing  effort  to  attain 
that  object,  a  working  out  of  this  salvation. 
And  tills  it  aims  at,  not  in  any  way  which 
self-righteousness  may  dictate,  or  human 
wisdom  prescribe,  but  in  a  way  appoint- 
ed by  God,  and  revealed  in  the  gospel 
of  Christ.  Our  Lord  accordingly  distin- 
guishes the  real  from  the  nominal  Chris- 
tian by  this  test — the  one  "  doeth  his  say- 
ings," the  other  "  doeth  them  not."  This 
is  in  fact  the  one  grand  distinction  between 
vital  religion  and  ungodliness,  the  turning 
point  between  heaven  and  hell. 

Is  your  religion  then  of  this  practical 
kind  ?  In  order  to  come  to  a  true  know- 
ledge of  its  character,  it  is  not  enough  that 
you  ask  yourselves  whether  you  have  heard 
of  the  salvation  of  Christ,  and  desire  it,  and 
have  felt  your  hearts  burn  at  the  prospect 
of  it ; — have  you  sought  it  ?  Have  you 
actually  gone  to  Christ  for  it?  Have  you 
embraced  his  gracious  offers,  that  you  may 
obtain  it  ?  And  how  are  you  living  in  the 
world  ?  Look  back  to  the  past  week.  Has 
your  life  throughout  it  been  a  "  life  of  faith 
on  the  Son  of  God  ?"  a  life  of  self-denial, 
of  humiliation,  of  prayer,  of  patient  and  ac- 
tive love  ?  What  is  the  present  temper  of 
your  minds  ?  You  are  sitting  here  atten- 
tive perhaps,  and  to  all  appearance  devout ; 
but  are  you  sitting  here,  like  Mary  at  the 
feet  of  Christ,  to  hear  his  sayings,  that  you 
may  go  awa)'-  and  practise  them  ?  Is  the 
language  of  your  heart,  at  this  very  moment, 
that  of  the  converted  Saul,  "  Lord,  what 
wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  If  you  cannot 
bear  such  questions  as  these,  your  condition 
is  sad.  You  may  surpass  your  Christian 
neighbor  in  knowledge,  in  zeal,  in  liveliness 
of  feeling,  in  a  reputation  for  godliness ; 
your  house  may  rise  higher  than  his,  and 
appear  as  secure  ;  but  dig  deep,  brethren, 
be  practical,  pains-taking,  laborious  Chris- 
tians, or  you  will  soon  be  without  a  dwell- 
ing, and  your  souls  without  a  rest. 

We  discover,  thirdly,  in  this  scripture, 
the  vysdom  of  true  religion . 

What  is  wisdom  ?  Is  it  not  this — the  pur- 
suing of  a  g(jod  end  by  the  best  means  ?  Then 
tlie  religion  of  which  you  have  just  heard  is 
wisdom.  It  is  not  merely  the  glorious  ob- 
ject which  it  seeks,  that  proves  it  such,  for 
every  kind  of  false  religion  professes  to  lead 
to  heaven  ;  nor  yet  is  it  some  degree  of  ac- 
tivity in  the  pursuit  of  this  ol)jcct — the  fool- 
ish  as  well   as  the  wise  builder   raised  a 


house  :  it  is  the  means  which  it  employs 
that  stamps  its  character,  its  simple  obe- 
dience to  the  commands  of  Christ,  its  ear- 
nest laboring  after  salvation  in  God's  way 
and  manner.  And  such  a  religion  can 
never  fail  us.  That  man  is  "  wise  unto 
salvation,"  who  thus  seeks  it.  "  Blessed  is 
that  servant  whom  his  Lord,  when  he  com- 
eth,  shall  find  so  doing."  "  He  doeth  the 
will  of  God  ;"  and  though  "  the  world  pass- 
eth  away,"  he  "  abideth  forever." 

But  let  us  not  mistake.  This  parable 
was  intended  to  show  us  the  necessity  of 
practical  religion,  and  it  solenmly  warns 
us  against  trying  our  profession  of  it  by 
any  other  test  than  by  our  works  ;  but  it 
does  not  ascribe  our  salvation  to  any  thing 
that  we  can  do.  On  the  contrary,  it  gives  to 
something  out  of  man  all  the  glory  of  his 
safety.  Why  could  not  the  rushing  floods 
shake  the  house  of  the  wise  builder  ?  Be- 
cause it  was  better  built  than  the  other  ? 
No  ;  simply  because  it  rested  on  a  better 
foundation.  "  It  fell  not,  for  it  was  founded 
on  a  rock."  It  was  the  rock,  and  the  rock 
alone,  which  saved  it. 

Hence  we  may  learn,  lastly,  the  folly  of 
that  religion  which  trusts  for  salvation  in 
itself.  And  yet  this  is  precisely  the  char- 
acter  of  the  religion  which  thousands  make 
their  confidence.  Ask  the  great  multitude 
of  those  who  call  themselves  after  the  name 
of  Christ,  where  their  hope  of  heaven  rests  ; 
they  all  speak  of  Christ  as  the  only  Saviour, 
but  their  answer  shows  that  the  ground  of 
their  hope  is  not  in  him  ;  it  is  in  themselves  ; 
in  their  faith,  their  knowledge,  their  expe- 
rience, their  righteousness  ;  in  something 
that  can  no  more  bear  the  weight  of  an  im- 
mortal soul,  than  a  quicksand  can  support 
a  temple,  or  a  reed  bear  up  the  heavens. 

On  what,  brethren,  is  your  hope  founded  ? 
Are  you  building  on  a  rock,  or  on  the  earth  ? 
To  ascertain  this  point,  you  must  ask  no 
longer  the  questions  which  were  before 
pressed  on  you.  The  inquiry  now  must 
be.  Have  I  ever  seen  the  utter  insufficiency 
of  all  I  can  do  to  blot  out  my  sins  or  save 
my  soul  ?  Am  I  casting  entirely  away  my 
own  righteousness  as  a  ground  of  depend- 
ence, and  resting  only  on  the  perfect  right- 
eousness, the  atoning  blood,  the  love,  the 
grace,  the  power  of  Christ  ? — Do  I  feel  that 
were  he  to  fiul  me,  I  should  be  overwhelmed 
at  last  in  inevitable  ruin  ?  and  am  I  sure 
that  he  will  never  fail  me  ?  that  he  is  a 
"  precious  corner-stone,  a  sure  foundation  ?" 


THE  UNBELIEF  OF  THE  SAMARITAN  LORD. 


39 


It  may  be  that  your  conscience  miss;ives 
you,  or  rather  that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  at  tiiis 
moment  discovering  to  you  the  rottenness  of 
your  hopes,  the  madness  of  your  expecta- 
tions. It  may  be  that,  feeling  your  house 
shake,  you  may  be  ready  to  ask,  "  What 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  The  question  is 
very  easily  answered.  What  advice  should 
you  give  to  a  stranger  whom  you  should 
discover  in  summer,  building  in  a  water- 
course, on  a  spot  which  you  knew  would 
become  in  winter  the  bed  of  a  torrent  ? 
What  should  you  say  to  your  brother  or 
your  friend,  who  had  laid  the  foundation  of 
a  dwelling  on  shifting  sand  ?  Would  you 
recommend  him  to  adorn  or  alter,  or  even 
attempt  to  strengthen  his  walls  ?  No  ;  your 
language  would  be,  "  Down  with  it,  down 
with  it  even  to  the  ground."  The  same 
advice  we  give  to  you.  Painful  and  hu- 
miliating as  may  be  the  step,  renounce  your 
present  hopes.  Begin  anew.  Place  your- 
selves in  the  situation  of  men  who  have  a 
long  eternity  before  them,  without  having 
made  the  slightest  provision  for  it.  Flee  to 
Jesus  Christ  for  safety,  as  though  you  had 
never  before  heard  of  his  name ;  and  flee 
to  him  at  once,  as  though  this  very  night 
the  rains  were  to  descend  and  the  floods  to 
swell,  as  though  this  very  night  death  and 
judgment  were  to  come.  The  Lord  hath 
"  laid  in  Zion  for  a  foundation,  a  stone,  a 
tried  stone ;"  it  is  Christ  the  Lord.  He 
tells  you  that  "  he  that  believeth  in  him, 
shall  not  make  haste,  shall  never  be  con- 
founded." He  tells  you,  too,  that  if  not 
resting  on  him,  not  "  rooted  and  grounded" 
in  him,  you  must  fall.  "Judgment,"  ho 
says,  "  will  I  lay  to  the  line,  and  righteous- 
ness to  tlie  plummet,  and  the  hail  shall 
sweep  away  the  refuge  of  lies,  and  tlie  wa- 
ters shall  overflow  the  hiding-place." 


SERMON    VII. 

THE  UNBELIHF  OF  THE  SA:\L\KITAN  LORD. 

2  Kings  vir.  2. 

Behold,  thou  shall  see  it  with  thine  eyes,  hut  shall 

not  eat  thereof. 

Whex  these  words  were  first  uttered, 
there  was  a  famine  in  Samaria.  It  was 
occasioned  by  the  besieging  army  of  the 
Syrians.     With  Benhadad  at  their  head, 


they  closely  surrounded  the  city,  and  by 
cutting  off"  its  supplies,  reduced  it  to  a 
condition  of  almost  unexamj)led  sulfering. 
For  some  time  no  prospect  of  deliverance 
appeared  ;  all  was  hunger  and  despair.  At 
length,  in  the  very  height  of  the  distress, 
the  prophet  Elisha  stands  before  the  king, 
and  declares  aloud  in  the  name  of  the  Lord, 
that  on  the  morrow  provisions  should  be 
abundant  and  cheap  in  the  gate  of  Samaria. 
Then  followed  the  scene  described  in  thi!^ 
verse.  "  A  lord  on  wliose  hand  the  king 
leaned,  answered  the  man  of  God,  and  said, 
Behold,  if  the  Lord  would  make  windows 
in  heaven,  might  this  thing  be  ?  And  he 
said.  Behold,  thou  shalt  see  it  with  thine 
eyes,  but  shalt  not  eat  thereof." 

Now,  on  the  first  view,  there  appears 
nothing  very  remarkable  either  in  the 
speech  of  this  lord,  or  in  the  reply  of  the 
prophet ;  but  the  consequences  which  fol- 
lowed, give  them  a  very  solemn  interest. 
And  not  only  so  ;  as  though  the  Holy  Spirit 
were  determined  to  force  them  on  our  no- 
tice, they  are  repeated  at  the  close  of  this 
chapter,  and  with  a  particularity  which 
leaves  us  no  room  to  doubt  of  their  import- 
ance. The  man  is  evidently  held  up  by 
God  himself  as  a  warning  to  us.  Let  us 
then  seriously  examine  his  history.  This 
is  very  short.  Three  points  will  compre- 
hend all  that  we  know  of  it — the  nature  of 
his  sin,  its  causes,  and  its  punishment. 

I.  His  sin  was  unbelief;  not  the  unbe- 
lief of  any  threatening,  but  the  unbelief  of 
a  promise. . 

We  see,  then,  that  we  have  before  us  a 
sin  of  very  common  occurrence  ;  one  that 
is  committed  every  day,  and  committed, 
not  by  the  infidel  and  scorner  only,  but  by 
persons  who  manifest  some  regard  for  the 
gospel,  and  some  reverence  for  God.  Un- 
belief of  the  divine  promises  is  as  common 
here  as  it  was  in  Samaria ;  as  common 
perhaps  in  this  church,  as  in  the  palace  of 
Jchoram. 

Take,  first,  the  case  of  the  young.  You 
are  seeking  happiness,  looking  eagerly 
around  you  for  something  that  will  quiet 
and  satisfy  a  restless  heart.  (Joil  si)oaks  tO 
you  from  lieavcn.  He  says,  "  My  ways 
are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  my  ])atiis 
are  peace."  He  makes  known  to  you  the 
gospel  of  his  Son,  tells  you  of  the  unsearcha- 
ble riches  of  his  grace,  and  says,  "  Here  is 
blessedness;  here  is  rest."  Now  do  you 
believe   him  ?       The  greater  part  of  you 


10 


THE  UNBELIEF  OF  THE  SAMARITAN  LORD. 


must  answer  "  No  ;"  for  liow  do  you  act  ? 
At  the  very  time  when  he  is  tellinf^^you  that 
there  is  liappincss  in  religion,  and  offering 
you  that  religion  which  will  make  you 
happy,  you  turn  your  backs  on  him,  and 
say  to  every  trifler  who  comes  in  your  way, 
''  Who  will  show  us  any  good  ?" 

And  look  at  the  anxious  and  care -worn. 
You  have  families  to  provide  for  ;  children 
to  support,  and  watch  over,  and  guide. 
You  are  careful  and  troubled  about  them. 
The  Lord  speaks  to  you  also.  He  says, 
<'  Take  no  thought  for  the  morrow.  Thy 
bread  shall  be  given  thee,  and  thy  water 
shall  be  sure.  Leave  thy  children  to  me. 
Every  hair  of  their  head  is  numbered." 
•'  We  believe  this,"  you  say.  Why,  then, 
orethren,  this  load  of  care  ?  Why  so  many 
restless  nights  and  feverish  days  ?  Why 
such  dark  anticipations  of  future  evils,  and 
so  much  sinking  of  the  heart,  at  the  pros- 
pect of  the  days  to  come  ?  Could  you  at 
times  be  more  fearful,  if  there  were  not  a 
God  in  the  heavens,  or  a  Bible  in  the  land  ? 

The  comj)Jaining  too  are  equally  guilty 
in  this  thing.  God  tells  you  in  the  scrip- 
tures that  he  directs  all  your  affairs,  and 
directs  them  in  infinite  wisdom  and  love — 
so  wisely  and  so  graciously,  that  not  a  sin- 
gle event  could  be  altered  without  doing 
you  mischief.  "  All  things,"  he  says, 
"  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love 
me."  But  let  the  hour  of  trial  come  ;  let 
losses  and  disappointments  befall  you  ;  let 
sickness  lay  waste  your  body,  and  enfeeble 
your  mind  ;  let  your  children  die,  and  your 
friends  desert  and  the  world  wrong  you ; — 
what  is  your  language  ?  "  All  these  things 
arc  against  me." 

Turn  also  to  the  convinced  sinner.  Your 
eyes  have  been  opened.  The  Holy  Spirit 
has  shown  you  your  guilt  and  danger. 
You  feel  that  whatever  others  may  be,  you 
are  sinful,  perishing,  and  undone.  Now 
while  in  this  state,  Christ  addresses  you. 
He  assures  you  that  "  his  blood  cleanseth 
from  all  sin,"  that  "  whosoever  believeth  on 
him  shall  not  perish."  Indeed,  what  is  the 
whole  Bible,  but  one  grand  exhibition  of 
mercy  for  such  as  you  ?  What  is  the  re- 
demption it  proclaims  ?  A  redemption  pur- 
chased for  the  Ifist.  What  is  the  grace  it 
displays?  A  remedy  f)!-  their  ills.  What 
IS  the  heaven  it  unfolds  ?  A  world  pre- 
pared for  their  enjoyment. 

Whence   then   ariso  these  doubts  of  the 


Red. 


eemer  s   mercy 


Whence   come  all 


your  long-cherished  suspicions  of  the  extent 
and  freeness  of  his  grace  ?  Why  is  one  of 
you  saying,  "  There  is  no  mercy  for  me  ?" 
and  another,  "  I  can  never  be  pardoned  :  I 
am  lost?"  These  fears  spring  not  from 
humility,  but  from  unbelief;  from  a  proud 
reasoning  which  contradicts  God's  word, 
and  gives  the  lie  to  the  Holy  One  of  Israel. 

The  same  spirit  of  unbelief  is  at  work  in 
many  other  cases.  Such  of  you  as  are 
afflicted,  and  say  that  of  your  afflictions 
there  will  never  be  an  end  ;  such  as  are 
tempted,  and  despair  of  finding  any  way  of 
escape  ;  such  as  have  painful  duties  to  fulfil, 
and  tell  us  that  they  are  too  weak  ever  to  per- 
form them  ;  they  who  are  struggling  with 
their  corruptions,  and  are  hopeless  of  a 
victory  over  them  ; — all  these  disbelieve 
the  promises  of  heaven  ;  they  are  all  guilty 
of  the  sin  of  this  Samaritan  lord.  They 
may  not  be  guilty  of  it  to  the  same  extent 
as  this  man  was,  but  their  sin  is  precisely 
of  the  same  character.  It  is  unbelief,  and 
find  it  where  we  may,  it  is  an  offence  against 
the  Majesty  of  heaven. 

11.  But  whence  does  all  this  unbelief 
proceed  ?     Its  causes  are  many. 

1.  This  is  one  of  the  most  common — we 
see  not  hoio  the  promise  can  befuljiUed. 

"  Whence,"  asked  this  scoffing  lord,  "  is 
this  promised  abundance  to  come  ?  Will 
the  stones  of  our  wretched  city  produce  it  ? 
Will  the  Syrians  throw  it  over  our  walls  ? 
If  we  have  it  at  all,  it  must  fall  from  the 
clouds."  He  could  not  see  the  least  pros- 
pect of  succor  ;  he  consequently  treated  the 
prediction  of  Elisha  as  false,  as  nothing  bet- 
ter than  a  mockery  of  their  sufferings. 

And  thus  do  our  own  foolish  hearts  often 
beguile  us.  We  are  reminded  of  some  gra- 
cious promise.  It  exactly  meets  our  case  ; 
it  oilers  us  the  very  mercy  that  we  need. 
Why  then  do  we  not  believe  and  embrace 
it  ?  "  It  cannot,"  we  say,  "  be  accom- 
plished. No  help  can  reach  us.  Every 
way  of  deliverance  is  closed.  We  must 
be  left  to  suffer  and  mourn  :" — and  why  ? 
Because  the  Lord  does  not  send  down  an 
angel  from  heaven  to  show  us  the  path  in 
which  succor  is  coming  ;  because  our  fee- 
ble eyes  cannot  pierce  the  clouds  which  con- 
ceal a  descending  God. 

2.  Others  find  a  different  reason  for  their 
despair.  It  springs  from  the  extremity  of 
their  case.  "  Our  condition,"  they  say, 
"  is  (les])era1(\  It  is,  in  its  own  nature,  in- 
capable of  relief.      Nothing  can  lielp  or 


THE  UNBELIEF  OF  THE  SAMARITAN  LORD. 


41 


comfort  us."  In  this  instance  we  disbelieve 
tlie  promise  of  Jehovah  because  we  lose 
sight  of  the  gi  '.atncss  of  his  power. 

No  state  could  be  more  wretched  than 
that  of  Samaria  at  tliis  time  ;  none  could 
appear  more  hopeless.  So  extreme  was 
the  distress,  that,  in  the  prccedinc^  chapter, 
we  find  two  mothei*s  actually  atrrecing  to 
slay  their  infants  for  their  mutual  support. 
Their  enemies  too  were  as  near  the  city  as 
ever,  and  as  numerous  and  strong.  How 
was  it  possiblp,  then,  that  one  short  day 
could  bring  to  this  famished  people  cheap- 
ness and  abundance  ?  Tiie  thing  seemed 
impossible.  So  this  nobleman  thought  it. 
Nay,  he  speaks  as  though  he  doubted 
whether  God  himself  could  bring  it  to  pass. 
"  Behold,"  he  asks,  "  if  the  Lord  would 
make  windows  in  heaven,  might  this  thing 
be  ?" 

And  the  Israelites  in  the  wilderness  often 
reasoned  precisely  in  this  manner.  The 
pillar  of  fire  was  throwing  its  miraculous 
light  around  them  ;  the  streams  from  the 
smitten  rock  were  flowing  at  their  feet  ;  the 
maflna  was  in  their  hands  ;  and  yet  poor 
faithless  Israel,  in  the  midst  of  all  these 
prodigies,  was  continually  distrusting  the 
omnipotence  of  Jehovah.  "  They  believed 
not  in  God,''  says  the  psalmist,  "  and  trusted 
not  his  salvation."  "  They  spake  airainst 
God."  "  They  limited  the  Holy  One  of 
Israel."  "  They  said.  Can  God  furnish  a 
table  in  the  wilderness  ?"  "  Can  he  give 
bread  also  ?  Can  he  provide  flesh  for  his 
people  ?" 

Do  we  wonder  at  this  folly  ?  It  is  noth- 
ing more  than  a  picture  of  our  own.  Lift 
up  your  eyes  on  high.  Is  any  thing  too 
hard  for  the  Lord  who  fixed  that  sun  in  the 
heavens,  and  taught  the  stars  to  roll  ? 
•'  No,"  we  an.swer  ;  "  in  the  Lord  Jehovah 
is  everlasting  strength."  And  yet  what 
are  we  daily  hearing  ?  "  My  guilt,"  says 
one,  "  never  can  be  blotted  out  ;  it  is  .so 
great."  "  My  heart  no  grace  can  cleanse," 
says  another  ;  "  it  is  so  desperately  wick- 
ed." "  My  soul  can  never  again  see  com- 
f  )rt,"  says  a  third  ;  "  it  is  so  sinking,  so 
forlorn,  so  completely  wretched."  And 
then  comes  a  fourth,  telling  us  that  there  is 
no  room  for  him  in  heaven,  and  .still  urging 
the  same  plea  for  his  unbelief — his  ca.se  is 
so  desperate  ;  he  has  wandered  so  very 
near  to  hell. 

And  where  is  all  tiiis  said  ?  In  a  \\oy\(\ 
where    mercy    has   a    t;j'.ousand  times  tri- 


umphed over  wrath,  and  grace  over  sin  ;— 
in  a  world  where  the  most  guilty  have  been 
pardoned,  the  most  ungodly  sanctified,  and 
the  most  miserable  blessed  ; — on  the  same 
earth,  from  which  Manasseh  and  David 
were  taken  to  heaven  ;  where  a  malefactor, 
in  the  agonies  of  death,  was  made  meet  for 
paradise ;  where  the  once  blaspheming 
Paul  honored  his  Lord  more  than  any  one 
that  went  before  or  followed  after  him,  and 
was  at  the  same  time  the  mo.st  alllicted  of 
the  sons  of  men,  and  the  happiest.  And 
by  whom  were  all  these  wonders  wi-ought  ? 
By  the  very  God  at  whose  feet  we  lie  down 
in  despair ;  by  the  very  Reileemer  whose 
grace,  we  say,  cannot  purify  us,  whose 
Spirit  cannot  comfort,  and  whose  blood  can- 
not save  us. 

The  source  of  this  folly  is  but  too  plain. 
We  throw  a  veil  over  the  glory  of  Jehovah  ; 
we  make  our  thoughts  his  thougiits,  and 
our  ways  his  ways  ;  we  strip  him  of  the 
strength  of  heaven,  and  clothe  him  in  the 
weakness  of  earth.  Nay,  it  is  not  always 
the  great  God,  the  only  living  and  true 
God,  whom  we  set  before  us.  It  is  often  a 
being  of  our  own  creation.  We  form  a  god 
for  ourselves.  And  he  is  like  ourselves, 
poor  in  his  greatness,  and  mean  in  his  power, 
and  narrow  in  his  mercy.  We  put  him 
on  an  imaginary  throne  ;  we  call  him  by 
the  name  of  the  Lord  ;  we  then  ascribe  to 
him  the  glorious  promises  of  the  gospel  ; 
and  what  must  necessarily  follow  ?  We 
feel  at  once  that  he  is  not  equal  to  the  per- 
formance of  them,  and  we  disbelieve  and 
reject  them.  Abraham  "  was  strong  in 
faith."  If  we  ask  why,  the  apostle  tells 
us  ;  "  Being  fully  persuaded  that  wiiat  God 
had  promised,  he  was  able  also  to  perform." 
Our  faith  is  weak,  because  we  conceive 
God  to  be  weak.  We  imagine  him  like 
the  idols  of  men,  without  an  ear  to  hear  or 
a  hand  to  save. 

To  these  two  causes  then  the  unbeliel 
recorded  in  this  history  must  be  traced. 

III.  Let  us  go  on  to  consider  the  punish- 
menl  by  which  it  was  followed.  This  was 
prompt  and  awful. 

We  have  before  us  a  promise  and  a 
threatening.  Not  a  man  in  San)aria  could 
tell  liow  either  could  be  fulfilled.  But  tlie 
great  God  is  never  at  a  loss  for  means  to 
accomplish  his  designs,  whether  they  be 
designs  of  mercy  or  of  wrath.  The  Syri- 
ans tiiem.selves  shall  furni.sh  to  Israel  the 
abundance  he  has  promised.     "  In  the  twi- 


42 


THE  UNBELIEF  OF  THE  SAMARITAN  LORD. 


light,'*  early  the  ensuing  night,  so  early 
that  the  Lord  seems  impatient  to  vindicate 
the  honor  of  his  insulted  servant,  a  noise  in 
the  air,  as  of  horsemen  and  chariots,  is 
lieard  in  the  camp  of  Renhadad.  His  troops 
conclude  that  an  army  is  coming  to  the 
rescue  of  Samaria.  "  Lo,"  said  they,  "  the 
king  of  Israel  hath  hired  against  us  the 
kings  of  the  Hittites,  and  the  kings  of  the 
Egyptians,  to  come  upon  us."  Struck  with 
a  sudden  panic,  they  fled,  leaving  behind 
them  in  their  tents  all  their  treasures  and 
provisions.  Their  flight  was  soon  discovered 
by  four  lepers.  These  carried  the  joyful 
tidings  to  the  city,  and  in  a  few  short  hours, 
the  event  which  seemed  impossible,  is  come 
to  pass  ;  the  greatest  plenty  succeeds  to 
the  greatest  want.  "  A  measure  of  fine 
flour  was  sold  for  a  shekel,  and  two  measures 
of  barley  for  a  shekel,  according  to  the  word 
of  the  Lord." 

And  now  where  is  this  unbelieving  chief? 
The  unlooked  for  abundance  is  come,  and 
the  predicted  judgment  shall  follow  it.  As 
might  have  been  expected,  the  news  brought 
by  the  lepers,  occasioned  a  rush  to  the  gate 
which  led  from  the  city  to  the  deserted 
camp.  This  lord  was  appointed  to  preserve 
ordftf  in  it.  It  followed,  therefore,  that  if 
there  tvere  any  one  person  in  the  city,  who 
was  sure  to  enjoy  the  newly  acquired  plenty, 
he  was  tliat  man.  No  provisions  could 
enter  the  town  without  passing  before  his 
eyes;  l)e  was  on  tlie  very  spot  where  the 
ijooty  would  be  sold.  But  he  "  never  ate 
thereof." 

And  iiow  was  this  ?  No  disease  robbed 
liim  of  appetite  ;  no  message  from  the  king 
hurried  ln"m  away  from  the  scene  of  plenty. 
There  is  sometliing  more  in  the  prophet's 
threatening  tlian  meets  the  ear.  It  is  a 
sentence  of  death.  And  the  very  means 
which  seemed  certain  to  defeat,  accom- 
plished it.  Hunger  made  the  people  im- 
petuou'<  :  ihoy  rusiied  to  the  gate  where 
this  lord  stood  ;  he  was  thrown  down  in  the 
struggle,  and  "  tlio  people  trod  upon  him  in 
the  gate,  and  ho  died."  Twice  is  his  death 
recorded  ;  twice  does  the  Holy  Spirit  bid 
us  maik  if.  And  we  learn  this  from  it, 
that  the  })unishment  of  unbelief  is  sure,  is 
great,  is  beyond  expectation  dreadful.  In 
its  nature  it  is  two-fold. 

1.  It  loses  the  promised  mercy.  Tiius, 
for  instance,  the  young  cannot  be  jiersuaded 
that  the  gospel  can  make  them  happy  ;  they 
consequently  lose  that  happiness  which  the 


gospel  brings.  The  void  within  them  still 
aches.  Their  whole  life  is  the  chasing  of 
a  phantom  ;  their  joy  a  feeding  on  ashes. 
They  call  it  pleasure,  but  we  know,  and 
they  know,  that  this  is  the  sum  of  it  all, 
"  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit." 

You  tell  the  afllicted,  that  God  is  "  a  very 
present  help  in  trouble  ;"  that  in  the  dark- 
est hour  he  can  comfort :  that  in  the  wild- 
est storm,  he  can  say  "  Peace,"  and  there 
shall  be  a  calm.  They  believe  you  not. 
The  consequence  is,  they  are^till  "  afllicted, 
tossed  with  tempest,  and  not  comforted." 
Their  days  do  they  "  consume  in  vanity, 
and  their  years  in  trouble." 

And  turn  to  the  real  Christian.  Ask 
him  why  it  is  that  his  harp  is  on  the  wil- 
lows ;  why  all  his  hopes  are  clouded  and 
his  joys  departed.  Ask  him  Avhy  his  cor- 
ruptions  triumph,  and  his  graces  languish. 
Ask  him  why  losses  ^exer,  and  the  lightest 
afllictions  depress,  and  a  breath  troubles 
him.  The  man  once  trod,  like  Peter,  on 
the  billows  ;  ask  him  why  he  now  begins 
to  sink  on  the  quiet  waters.  One  reply 
meets  all  these  questions — he  has  lost  sight 
for  a  time  of  the  divine  promises.  Unbe- 
lief has  paralyzed  his  soul  ;  he  cannot  lay 
hold  of  a  single  blessing. 

2.  But  this  loss  is  not  all  which  this  sin 
has  to  bear  ;  it  brings  down  a  positive  pun- 
islwient.  This  will  be  greater  or  less  ac- 
cording to  the  nature  of  our  unbelief,  the 
truth  which  it  rejects,  and  the  indulgence 
we  give  it.  It  rnay  be  the  occasional  and 
Ijewailed  infirmity  of  a  Christian  heart.  In 
this  case,  its  punishment  will  be  bitter  but 
not  fatal.  It  may  be  the  cherished  sin  of 
an  evil  heart ;  it  may  fasten  on  "  the  glo- 
rious gospel  of  the  blessed  God,"  and  re- 
fuse to  give  credit  to  the  testimony  which 
God  has  given  of  his  Son.  It  is  then  ruin- 
ous ;  its  consequen9es  are  tremendous  and 
eternal.  "  He  that  believeth  not  the  Son, 
shall  not  see  life ;  but  the  wrath  of  God 
abideth  on  him." 

And  not  only  does  the  unbeliever  perish, 
he  perishes  under  the  gospel,  on  account  ot 
his  unbelief.  As  our  salvation  is  ascribed 
to  faith,  rather  than  to  any  other  grace  ;  so 
our  ruin  is  ascribed  to  imbelief,  rather  than 
to  any  other  sin.  "  He  that  believeth  not 
is  condemned  already  ;" — and  why  ?  "  be- 
cause he  hath  not  believed  on  tiie  name  of 
the  only  begotten  Son  of  God."  Look  at 
Israel  in  the  wilderness.  They  murmured  ; 
they  rebelled ;  they  bowed  down  to  idols  ; 


THE  UxVBELIEF  OF  THE  SAMARITAN  LORD. 


4S 


they  fell  into  the  most  abominable  iniqui- 
ties. But  wiiy  were  they  excluded  from 
the  promised  land  ?  Tiie  Holy  Spirit  passes 
over  all  thoir  other  crimes,  and  finds  the 
cause  of  tlieir  destruction  in  their  unbelief 
alone  ;  "  To  whom  sware  he,  that  they 
sliould  not  enter  into  his  rest,  but  to  them 
that  believed  not?  So  we  see  that  they 
could  not  enter  in  because  of  unbelief" 

But  we  must  look  into  another  world,  if 
we  would  see  the  divine  displeasure  asjainst 
tliis  sin  in  its  true  light.  The  transactions 
of  the  great  day  of  judgment  will  make  it 
plain. 

You  think  perhaps,  brethren,  that  the 
punishment  of  this  Samaritan  lord  was  se- 
vere ;  but,  compared  with  the  vengeance 
still  in  reserve  for  the  unbelieving,  it  was 
nothing  ;  nothing  when  compared  with  the 
execution  of  tliis  sentence,  "  He  that  be- 
lieveth  not,  shall  be  damned."  And  yet 
there  is  severity  enough  in  the  fate  of  this 
man,  to  make  some  of  us  tremble.  For 
disbelieving  one  promise,  for  one  scoffing 
speech,  he  lost  his  life.  Some  of  you  per- 
haps go  much  further  than  this.  You  dis- 
believe every  promise  and  every  threaten- 
ing ;  you  have  been  scoffing  at  the  gospel 
of  God,  and  tiie  servants  of  God,  all  your 
life  long.  What  then  will  be  your  latter 
end  ?  If  you  die  as  you  have  lived,  it  will 
be  this — in  the  great  day  of  the  Lord,  you 
will  hoar  the  invitation  that  calls  the  blessed 
of  the  Father  to  his  kingdom,  but  you  will 
be  bidden  to  depart  accursed.  You  will 
"  see  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in 
the  kingdom  of  God,"  but  you  yourselves 
will  be  thrust  out.  "  Write,"  said  he  who 
.sat  on  the  throne,  to  his  apostle  John,  "  for 
these  words  are  true  and  faithful — the  fear- 
ful and  unbelieving  shall  have  their  part  in 
the  lake  whicli  burneth  with  fire  and  brim- 
stone." 

The  first  truth  then  which  we  learn  from 
this  history,  is  Ihe  guili  of  mihehcf.  There 
must  be  something  inconceivably  criminal 
ill  that  which  forfeits  so  much  good,  and 
gives  birth  to  so  much  misery.  We  may 
judge  of  it^  nature  by  its  effects.  And  yet 
wliat  a  trifle  do  we  esteem  it !  We  hear 
in  our  own  houses  of  tiieft,  or  adultery,  or 
murder.  We  .shrink  at  the  sound  of  these 
crimes,. and  we  ought  to  shrink.  W^e  then 
come  to  this  house  of  God.  The  most  gra- 
cious promises  that  ever  came  from  the 
throne  of  iieaven,  are  brought  before  us — 
without  a  pang  or  a  sigh  we  discredit  them. 


And  yet  the  contrite  adulterer  and  mur- 
derer have  been  pardoned  ;  the  repentant 
thief  has  been  forgiven.  David  is  in  iieav- 
en, and  tlie  converted  malefiict<n-  went  from 
Ills  cross  to  paradise.  But  when  was  the 
impenitent  unbeliever  saved  ?     Never. 

And  why  all  this  peculiar  displeasure 
against  a  sin  in  appearance  so  light  ?  It 
dishonors  God  more  than  any  other  sin. 
Faith,  we  are  told,  "  gives  glory  to  God." 
Unbelief  robs  him  of  his  glory.  It  "  makes 
him  a  liar."  It  slights  his  goodness,  it  as- 
perses his  wisdom,  it  impeaches  his  sover- 
eignty, it  denies  his  power.  There  is  not 
one  of  his  perfections,  at  which  it  does  not 
strike.  And  then  it  is  the  parent  of  every 
other  sin.  It  keeps  alive  all  our  corrup- 
tions ;  it  strengthens  and  covers  them. 

We  are  taught  also  here  the  misery  of 
unhc/ievers.  They  are  living  now  in  a 
world  of  mercy.  They  hear  too  of  greater 
mercies  than  any  which  the  world  affords ; 
of  mercies,  such  as  angels  in  their  inno- 
cence never  received  or  perhaps  thought  of. 
But  what  is  written  on  them  all  ?  "  Be- 
hold, thou  shalt  see  it  with  thine  eyes,  but 
shah  not  eat  thereof"  Is  it  not  so,  breth- 
ren ?  True,  the  sun  does  shine  on  you  ; 
you  breathe  the  air  of  God,  and  take,  with 
others,  the  common  bounties  of  his  provi- 
dence ;  but  as  for  spiritual  mercies,  the 
mercies  which  quiet,  and  fill,  and  transform 
the  soul — the  love  of  the  Father,  communion 
with  Christ,  the  joy  of  the  Holy  Ghost — 
mercies  worthy  of^  an  immortal  spirit  to  re- 
ceive, and  worthy  of  an  everlasting  God  to 
give — you  know  nothing  of  them.  You 
hear  of  them  all,  but  you  have  never  yet 
tasted  the  blessedness  of  one  of  them.  And 
what  has  kept  them  from  you  ?  Unbelief. 
They  have  all  been  offered  to  your  accep- 
tance,  but  you  have  either  doubted  their 
existence,  or  questioned  the  sincerity  of  the 
offer. 

One  thing  more  then  is  plain — the  neces- 
sity of  watching  against  this  guilty  and  mise- 
rable thing. 

The  sin  of  which  you  have  been  hearing, 
is  not  the  crime  of  a  century  or  an  age ;  it 
is  the  sin  of  every  hour.  In  the  unsancti- 
fied  heart,  it  is  always  reigning.  It  char- 
acterizes it.  It  stamps  it  with  this  name  of 
reproach,  "  an  evil  lieart."  It  is  mixed  up 
with  every  movement  of  the  soul,  and  every 
action  of  the  life. 

In  the  renewed  mind,  it  has  been  de- 
throned, but  it  is  yet  there.     Subtle,  long- 


44 


THE  FUNERAL  AT  THE  GATE  OF  NAIN. 


lived,  clinging,  it  is  tliat  of  which  the  sin- 
ner is  last  convinced,  and  which  the  Chris- 
tian last  conquers.  Hear  the  penitent  trans- 
gressor speak  of  his  iniquities.  He  con- 
fesses with  tears  almost  every  other  sin  that 
fallen  man  can  commit:  of  the  greatest  of 
all,  01  unbelief,  he  says  not  a  word. 

How  jealous  then  ought  we  to  be  of  our- 
selves !  How  suspicious  of  our  unbelieving 
hearts  !  Look  within.  Is  no  secret  dis- 
trust of  God  harbored  there  ?  No  low 
thoughts  of  his  mercy,  no  hard  thoughts  of 
his  justice,  no  degrading  thoughts  of  his 
power  ?  Is  the  promise,  is  the  oath  of  Je- 
hovah, always  able  to  keep  our  minds  quiet 
in  danger,  and  calm,  though  sorrowful,  un- 
der a  sense  of  guilt  ?  We  can  trust  one 
another.  There  are  some  of  our  fellow- 
worms,  on  whose  veracity  we  could  almost 
stake  our  life.  Do  wc  always  as  simply 
and  fully  trust  the  God  who  cannot  lie,  the 
Saviour  who  bled  for  us,  and  the  Spirit  who 
comforts  us  ?     We  are  verily  guilty. 

Ought  this  thing  so  to  be  ?  Ought  it  not 
rather  to  cover  us  with  humiliation  and 
shame  ?  It  grieves  our  best  and  dearest 
Friend  more  than  any  other  wound  we  ever 
gave  him  ;  he  complains  of  it  more.  It 
made  him  weary,  when  on  earth,  of  the  dis- 
ciples whom  he  had  chosen.  He  complained 
not  of  their  worldly-mindedness  or  their 
pride  ;  he  bore  without  a  murmur  their  base 
desertion  of  hitn  ;  but  their  unbelief  caused 
him  to  wish  himself  far  away  from  them. 
"  O  faithless  generation,"  said  he  of  those 
very  men  whom  he  loved  as  he  loved  his 
own  soul,  "  how  long  shall  I  be  with  you  ? 
how  long  shall  I  sulfcr  you  ?"  Nay,  this 
was  one  of  the  most  bitter  ingredients  in  his 
cup  of  wo — "  he  came  unto  his  own,  and 
his  own  received  him  not ;"  he  offered  sal- 
vation to  the  perishing,  and  they  refused  it. 

This  is  unbelief,  brethren.  It  robs  us  ; 
it  dishonors  God  ;  it  wastes  mercy  ;  it  ex- 
cites wrath  ;  it  rivets  fast  on  us  the  woes  of 
earth  ;  it  fills  hell  ;  it  wounds  him  who 
shed  his  heart's  blood  to  heal  us  ;  it  grieves 
the  only  Comforter  of  a  wretched  world. 
Shall  we  love  it  ?  Shall  we  hold  it  fast  ? 
No.  How  then  shall  we  act  ?  Look  at 
the  Father  who  came  to  .Tcsus  for  help  for 
his  troubled  son.  He  heard  the  Saviour's 
touching  lamentation  over  the  unbelief  of 
his  disciples.  H(^  hoard  the  words  addressed 
to  himself,  "  If  thou  canst  believe,  all  things 
are  possiole  to  him  that  belioveth."  And 
then  how  did  he  act  ?     "  Straightway  the 


father  of  the  child  cried  out,  and  said  with 
tears.  Lord,  I  believe  ;  help  thou  mine  un- 
belief." 


SERMON    VIIL 

THE  FUNERAL  AT  THE  GATE  OF  NAIN. 
St.  Luke  vii.  12. 

Behold,  there  was  a  dead  man  carried  out,  the  only 
son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow. 

The  Bible  is  like  the  world — we  cannot 
look  into  it  without  meeting  with  the  traces  of 
human  misery.  But  this  is  not  all  we  dis- 
cover in  it.  The  compassion  of  heaven  is 
as  visible  and  as  great.  It  is  greater.  Man 
can  suffer  much  ;  he  does  suffer  more  than 
it  might  have  been  expected  so  feeble  a 
worm  could  find  strength  to  bear  ;  but  what 
is  the  mercy  we  see  and  feel  ?  More  than 
angels  can  understand  ;  more  perhaps  than 
they  once  conceived  an  infinite  God  could 
show. 

We  see  this  mercy  in  one  of  its  most  at- 
tractive  forms  in  the  history  before  us.  We 
must  however  look  first  at  the  scene  of  dis- 
tress which  drew  it  forth.  And  to  this  scene, 
our  attention,  for  the  present,  must  be  con- 
fined. The  use  I  purpose  to  make  of  it,  is 
simply  this — to  remind  you  of  the  designs 
of  God  towards  ourselves,  in  those  extraor- 
dinary afflictions  with  which  we  sometimes 
behold  an  inidividual  or  a  family  visited. 

In  the  preceding  verse  of  the  chapter,  Je- 
sus is  described  as  drawing  near  with  a 
multitude  to  the  gate  of  Nain,  a  small  city  at 
the  foot  of  mount  Hermon.  Another  mul- 
titude  meets  him  there.  "  Behold,  there 
was  a  dead  man  carried  out,  the  only  son 
of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow." 

And  are  these  few  words  all  that  Saint 
Luke  can  spare  for  a  case  of  suffering  like 
this  ?  There  was  too  much  suflcring  in  it 
for  him  to  say  more.  Deep  grief  will  not 
admit  of  a  long  description  ;  it  must  be  felt 
to  be  understood.  The  sacred  historians 
knew  this  :  experience  had  taught  it  them. 
It  had  taught  them  also  how  to  speak  of 
misery.  We  sometimes  wonder  what  it  is 
that  makes  their  short  and  simple  narratives 
so  very  touching.  It  is  often  no  more  than 
this — the  men  who  wrote  them,  were  men 
of  sorrows.     They  reach  tlie  heart,  because 


THE  FUNERAL  AT  THE  GATE  OF  NAIN. 


45 


they  speak  the  language  of  nature,  of  feel- 
ing, and  of  truth. 

But  mournful  as  this  scene  appears,  it 
does  not  stand  alone,  without  a  parallel,  in 
the  history  of  human  wo.  Most  of  us  have 
witnessed  similar  calamities.  We  have 
seen  God  laying  his  hand  on  a  family,  as 
though  he  had  singled  it  out  for  a  spectacle 
of  misery.  We  have  seen  him  inflicting 
on  it  stroke  after  stroke  ;  sending  its  mem- 
bers one  after  another  in  quick  succession 
to  the  toml),  till  at  length  hardly  one  is  left 
to  shed  a  tear  for  the  rest.  We  have  seen 
the  once  happy  parent  made  childless  ;  the 
once  flourishing  neighbor  strip|)ed  bare  of  all 
his  comforts  ;  the  man  who  was  once  sur- 
rounded with  "  lovers  and  friends,"  moving 
over  the  scenes  of  his  former  joys,  solitary 
and  forlorn. 

Now  this  does  not  happen  hy  chance.  It 
is  the  work  of  that  God,  without  whom  not 
a  sparrow  falls.  He  does  it  for  our  good — 
to  warn  us,  to  make  us  think  and  feel,  to 
teach  us  lessons  which,  in  the  midst  of 
friends,  and  ease,  and  prosperity,  we  re- 
fused to  learn.  If  we  ask  what  these  les- 
sons are,  this  funeral  will  point  them  out  to 
us. 

I.  Look  at  that  hreathless  corpse.  "  Be- 
hold, there  was  a  dead  man  carried  out." 

The  Jews  always  buried  their  dead  with- 
out the  walls  of  their  cities.  They  were 
now  coming  out  of  Nain  to  follow  to  his 
grave  one  cut  off  from  among  them  in  his 
youth  and  strength.  And  why  was  he  thus 
snatched  away  ? 

1.  To  teach  them  and  us  the  dreadful 
nature  of  sin.  When  old  men  die,  we  al- 
most forget  why  they  die.  We  look  on 
them  as  worn  out,  and  I'egard  their  death 
as  nothing  more  than  the  natural  termina- 
tion of  past  years  of  labor  and  sorrow.  But 
when  the  young  die,  we  are  forced  to  re- 
member what  death  really  is.  We  cease 
to  talk  of  nature.  The  awful  truth  comes 
out — death  is  the  work  of  sin.  It  is  what 
the  scripture  calls  its  "  wages."  It  is  what 
we  get  for  loving  and  serving  it  so  well. 

We  may  not  thinkof  this  truth,  brethren, 
when  the  children  of  our  acquaintance  or 
neighbors  die  ;  but  we  shall  think  of  it  when 
the  blow  comes  nearer  home.  What  were 
Adam's  thoughts  when  he  first  saw  Abel 
lifeless  on  the  ground  ?  Was  it  nothing 
more  than  the  loss  of  one  son  and  the  cru- 
elty of  another,  which  shook  that  wondering 
man  ?     No.     The  scene  that  had  passed 


I  long  ago  in  paradise,  flashed  upon  him  ;  the 
I  threatening  of  heaven  rang  in  his  ears  ;  he 
thought  of  sin,  and  trembled. 

And  where  is  the  parent  who  has  not 
.  treml)led,  as  ho  has  looked  on  the  corpse 
of  a  beloved  child  ?  But  a  short  while 
ago,  all  there  was  life  and  health,  hope 
and  joy  ;  the  heart  gladdened  as  the  eye 
beheld  that  once  glowing  countenance 
and  that  rising  form.  What  is  there  be- 
fore me  now  ?  Dear  as  it  is  to  me,  I  shall 
soon  be  glad  to  bury  it  out  of  my  sight.  O 
how  I  hate  the  sin  which  has  wrought  such 
a  change  as  this  !  O  how  I  wonder  that  in 
a  dying  world,  dying  men  should  make  so 
light  of  it !  O  how  precious  is  that  Re- 
deemer who  ofl'ers  me  salvation  from  such 
a  curse  ! 

2.  Learn  here  too  one  lesson  more — the 
truth  you  so  often  hear,  and  find  it  so  hard 
to  credit — None  are  too  young  fo  die.  This 
young  man  died.  Those  around  him  needed 
probably  such  a  warning.  Your  friends 
and  neighbors  also  may  need  a  blow,  and  a 
God  of  mercy  may  send  it  them  by  opening 
a  grave  for  you.  What  if  it  should  be  so  ? 
Are  you  ready  ?  Are  you  prej)ared  to  go 
from  this  church  to  your  bed,  and  from  your 
bed  to  your  tomb  ?  If,  before  another  sab- 
bath comes,  we  lay  your  dead  body  in  the 
earth,  where  will  your  soul  be  ?  We  know 
that  it  will  be  in  eternity  ;  but  will  it  be  lost 
or  saved  there,  happy  or  wretched,  with 
Satan  or  with  God  ? 

II.  The  evangelist  now  calls  our  atten- 
tion to  another  object.  This  young  man 
had  a  mother,  and  she  is  now  weeping  near 
his  corpse.  But  this  is  not  all  ;  she  had 
wept  for  another  before  she  wept  for  him. 
"  She  was  a  widow."  There  are  widows 
still,  and  some  as  desolate  as  this  poor  suf- 
ferer. And  why  are  they  left  amongst  us  ? 
Why  are  they  kept  in  a  world  from  which 
all  that  made  that  world  pleasant  to  them, 
is  departed  ? 

1.  They  are  living  witnesses  of  the  uiu 
certain  hold  which  we  have  of  all  our  earthly 
comforts.  It  is  marvellous  how  prone  we 
are  to  lose  sight  of  this  simple  fact.  Some 
of  us  never  think  that  our  children  and 
friends  are  mortal.  Even  when  sickness 
comes,  when  the  stroke  of  death  is  plain  to 
others,  we  cannot  see  it ;  the  thing  appears 
so  unnatural  and  .strange.  In  almost  every 
instance,  the  last  that  expect  the  sick  to  die, 
are  they  who  love  them  most.  But  when 
the  work  is  done,  then  we  awake.     One 


46 


THE  FUx\ERAL  AT  THE  GATE  OF  NAIN. 


friend  is  gone  ;  we  see  that  others  too  may 
go.  We  leave  one  child  in  the  grave  ;  and 
then  we  look  around  to  discover  in  our  re- 
maining children  the  seeds  of  disease,  and 
the  forerunners  of  corruption. 

And  if  we  are  wise,  we  stop  not  here. 
Our  language  now  is,  "  Why  did  I  lean  for 
happiness  so  long  on  what  I  could  not  keep  ? 
Why  do  I  still  bind  so  closely  to  me  the 
objects  which  death  may  tear  from  me  in  an 
hour  ?  I  will  strive  to  wean  this  bleeding 
heart  of  mine  from  a  dying  world.  I  will  not 
love  it  as  I  have  done.  I  will  seek  my 
comforts  in  things  which  death  cannot  reach. 
I  will  not  rest  in  anything  below  my  God." 
O  that  the  sufferings  of  others  could  teach 
all  of  us  this  language  !  Force  not  God  to 
teach  it  you,  brethren,  in  the  bitter  way  in 
which  many  learn  it.  Have  you  children  ? 
Have  you  friends  ?  Be  thankful  for  them  ; 
they  are  lent  you  to  be  valued  and  enjoyed  ; 
but  think  of  Job,  think  of  Naomi,  think  of 
this  Jewish  wife  and  mother.  Your  mer- 
cies are  fading,  dying  mercies.  They  may 
be  gone  so  unexpectedly  and  so  suddenly, 
that  though  you  see  them  go,  their  loss  may 
seem  to  you  for  a  time  like  the  illusion  of 
a  dream.  And  the  more  you  love  them, 
the  more  likely  you  are  to  lose  them.  It  is 
the  gourd  of  which  we  are  "  exceeding 
glad,"  that  earliest  withers.  It  is  the  dear- 
est friend,  the  most  beloved,  the  only  child, 
that  soonest  dies. 

2.  The  son  over  whom  this  widow  wept, 
had  evidently  been  very  dear  to  her.  But 
a  short  time  before  she  had  probably  leaned 
on  him  as  her  prop,  and  rejoiced  in  him  as 
her  solace.  What  does  she  find  him  now  ? 
A  source  of  the  keenest  misery. 

As  it  was  with  her,  it  may  be  with  us — 
Our  deurcsl  earthly  comforts  may  becotne  the 
occasions  of  our  heaviest  sorrows.  Before 
they  go,  they  are  sometimes  embittered  to 
us  ;  we  wish  that  we  had  never  seen  them. 
And  what  if  their  sweetness  continue  to  the 
last  ?  It  will  only  inflict  on  us  at  the  last 
a  sharper  pang.  We  shall  lose  them  ;  lose 
them  perliiips  when,  like  this  widow,  we 
most  need  tliciu  ;  when  we  are  clinging  to 
them,  as  if  we  thought  the  world  witiiout 
tliem  were  a  blank. 

Perhaps  we  hnvi-.  s'lrpady  made  the  dis- 
covery ;  if  not,  we  f^hs^Jl  all  sooner  or  later 
learn,  that  our  severest  griefs  s{)ring  from 
the  o!)jects  we  love  the  best ;  that  whatever 
brings  joy  to  the  heart,  will  in  the  end  bring 
sorrow  also.     Tlie  fault  is  not  hi  the  thhi'rs 


themselves  ;  it  is  in  us,  in  our  own  earthly 
hearts.  We  love  the  creature  too  well ; 
we  put  it  above  our  God ;  and  this  is  the 
way  in  which  he  casts  it  from  its  throne. 
He  suffers  the  reed  we  lean  on  to  pierce  us 
as  it  breaks  ;  he  allows  the  idol  which  drew 
our  affections  from  him,  to  wound  as  well 
as  fail  us ;  and  then  our  eyes  are  open. 
Our  misery  brings  us  to  ourselves.  We 
remember  that  none  •can  satisfy  the  soul, 
but  he  who  had  power  to  create,  and  was 
wealthy  enough  to  ransom  it.  We  turn 
away  from  our  broken  idols,  and  say  with 
David,  "  And  now,  Lord,  what  wait  I  for  ? 
My  hope  is  in  thee." 

III.  But  this  dead  man  and  his  weep- 
ing mother  do  not  complete  the  mournful 
scene  we  are  contemplating.  There  is  a 
multitude  near.  "  Much  people  of  tlie  city," 
we  are  told,  "  was  with  them." 

We  can  be  at  no  loss  to  discover  the  mo- 
tive which  brought  them  here.  The  Jews 
have  ever  been  remarkable  for  the  honors 
they  pay  to  the  dead,  and  for  the  compas- 
sion they  manifest  for  their  surviving  friends. 
Hence  we  find  that  when  Lazarus  died, 
"  many  of  them  came  to  Martha  and  Mary, 
to  comfort  them  concerning  their  brother," 
And  the  sympathy  which  they  shov/ed  on 
these  occasions,  was  of  no  ordinary  kind  ; 
for  Saint  John  tells  us  that  when  Mary 
wept,  the  Jews  also  wept  "  which  came 
with  her."  It  was  not  likely  then  that  such 
a  people  would  be  regardless  of  this  deso- 
late woman.  Suspending  their  busy  cares, 
the  inhabitants  of  the  city  where  she  dwelt, 
follow  her  soi'rowing  to  the  burying  place 
of  her  son.  And  as  they  follow  her,  they  re- 
mind us  of  another  end  which  signal  calami- 
ties are  designed  to  answer— they  are  in- 
tended to  call  into  exercise  our  compass'ion. 

You  need  not  be  told  that  man  does  not 
always  feel  as  he  ought  for  his  fellow-man. 
There  are  some  hearts  which  seem  insen- 
sible to  pity,  and  there  are  times  when  even 
the  tenderest  heart  is  cold.  Our  neighbors 
die,  and  we  have  hardly  a  sigh  to  give  them 
as  we  see  them  passing  to  their  graves; 
our  friends  suffer,  and  we  leave  them  to 
weep  alone.  Our  own  flimilies,  our  own 
cares,  perhaps  our  own  griefs,  absorb  all  our 
thoughts.  And  yet  though,  we  heed  not  the 
miseries  of  our  fellow-worms,  there  is  One 
who  never  forgets  them ;  One  who  marks 
every  tear  they  shed,  and  numbers  all  theij 
pangs.  We  cannot  see  him  ;  but  we  may  see 
ins  pity  for  the  wretched  in  the  commands 


THE  FUNERAL  AT  THE  GATE  OF  NAIN. 


41 


which  he  has  lefl  us,  tliat  we  should  pity 
them.  "  This  is  ny  conimaudmcnt,"  said 
ho  to  the  friends  whom  he  was  about  to 
leave  in  trouble,  "  that  ye  love  one  an- 
other ;" — and  how  ?  "  as  I  have  loved  you." 
And  when  he  sent  down  his  Holy  Spirit 
from  heaven  to  teach  them,  hi;,  language 
was  the  same  ;  "  Be  ye  kind  one  to  an- 
other, tender-hearted."  "  Bear  ye  one  an- 
other's burdens."  "  Weep  with  them  that 
weep." 

Neither  does  he  deem  these  commands 
sufficient.  He  sometimes  enforces  them 
by  his  providence.  He  brings  misery  be- 
fore us  in  such  a  form  that  it  triumphs  over 
us.  Our  selfishness  gives  way  ;  tiie  heart 
is  forced  to  melt ;  for  a  time,  at  least,  we 
feel  as  men.  And  thus  the  woes  of  earth 
are  lightened,  and  our  evil  passions  checked. 
A  kindness  received  in  affliction  is  seldom 
lost.  Its  influence  is  often  great  and  last- 
ing. It  binds  man  to  man.  Though  but 
a  word  or  even  a  look  of  pity,  it  has  been 
the  beginning  of  a  long  and  deep  affection, 
and  sometinics  of  an  eternity  of  love.  Our 
best  fricndsiiips  are  generally  formed  in 
the  hour  of  trouble  ;  and  it  is  then  also  that 
our  bitterest  enmities  are  subdued. 

IV.  There  is  yet  a  fourth  object  of  atten- 
tion in  this  melancholy  throng.  The  Lord 
Jesus  draws  near  and  joins  it.  And  O  what 
a  joyful  ciiange  in  it  did  his  presence  make  ! 
We  must  not  however  turn  away  from  the 
misery  he  relieved. 

Connecting  it  with  him,  we  learn  that 
great  sufferings  are  often  designed  to  bring 
honor  to  him  irho  sends  them,  to  manifest  the 
glorious  periections  of  the  great  Lord  of  all. 
This  was  the  chief  end  why  this  young 
man  died  and  this  widow  mourned.  We 
are  accordingly  told  that  before  Jesus  left 
them,  all  this  assembled  multitude  "glori- 
fied God."  How  this  effect  was  produced 
in  this  instance,  the  sequel  of  tiie  history 
will  inform  us.  It  was  the  rcsuU'of  a  won- 
derful display  of  love  and  power.  In  other 
cases  of  affliction,  the  blessed  Saviour  mani- 
fests the  glory  of  other  perfections  of  his 
divine  character. 

1.  We  see  in  some  of  them  his  fearful 
holiness.  There  is  sin  in  a  family,  great 
sin,  perhaps  known,  open  sin.  "  I  will  visit 
their  transgression  with  the  rod,"  the  Lord 
says,  "  and  their  iniquity  with  stripes." 
The  promised  scourge  comes.  Calamities, 
sickness,  death,  proclaim  the  displeasure  of 
a  holy  God.     Tiius  was  old  Eli  dealt  with. 


"  His  sons  made  themselves  v/le,  and  he 
restrained  them  not."  The  Lord  slew  them  ; 
and  .scarcely  had  the  ears  of  their  father 
tingled  at  the  news,  when  he  f^ll  down  and 
died.  "  Thou  hast  given,"'  said  Nathan  to 
David,  "  great  occasion  to  the  enemies  of 
the  Lord  to  blaspheme."  And  iiow  did 
the  Lord  silence  their  bla.sphcmies  ?  He 
first  struck  the  infant  that  was  dearest  to 
the  monarch's  heart,  and  then  came  blow 
after  blow  on  David's  house,  and  made  it 
at  last  a  proverb  on  the  earth. 

Sometimes  the  iniquity  is  secret.  The 
world  sees  in  the  chastisement  nothing  more 
than  the  hand  of  an  afflicting  Father  ;  but 
it  is  not  sorrow  only,  which  bows  that 
mourner  down.  There  is  a  sting  within  the 
man.  His  "sin  has  found  him  out."  He 
sees  in  the  desolation  around  him,  in  lost 
comforts  and  opened  graves,  an  avenging 
God.  While  others  tell  him  of  a  Father's 
pity  and  a  Saviour's  love,  there  is  a  louder 
voice  sounding  in  his  ears,  "  I  have  told 
him  that  I  will  judge  his  house  forever  for 
the  iniquity  which  he  knowcth." 

2.  But  peculiar  afflictions  are  not  always 
the  effects  of  peculiar  sins.  "  Master," 
said  the  disciples  to  Jesus,  "  who  did  sin, 
this  man  or  his  parents,  that  he  was  born 
blind  ?"  Jesus  answered,  "  Neither  hath 
this  man  sinned,  nor  his  parents  ;  but  that 
the  works  of  God  should  be  made  manifest 
in  him."  And  this  is  the  way  in  which  the 
Lord  sometimes  makes  himself  manifest  in 
the  depths  of  trouble — he  shows  us  the  sup- 
porting and  conquering  power  of  his  grace. 

Where  can  we  find  on  earth  a  nobler 
monument  to  the  Redeemer's  praise,  than 
in  the  house  of  mourning  ?  A  child  of  the 
dust  "  stricken  of  God  and  afflicted,"  strip- 
ped  of  all  that  upholds  and  gladdens  his  fel- 
low-men,  and  yet  not  sinking,  unhurt,  calm; 
feeling  the  weight  of  sorrow  even  more 
tlian  others  feel  it,  but  not  cast  down  by  it ; 
triumphing  over  feeling  ;  reigning  the  lord 
of  griefs,  which  have  fired  the  brain  and 
broken  the  heart  of  thousands  ;  kissing  the 
rod  which  wounds  him,  and  even  blessing 
the  hand  which  holds  it ; — brethren,  this  is 
a  victory  which  none  but  a  believer  in  Chrisi 
can  attain,  and  nothing  but  bis  almighty 
grace  can  give.  It  is  the  most  glorious  spec- 
tacle that  is  seen  on  earth  ;  and  no  j)lace 
but  the  earth  affords  it.  It  is  not  found 
in  heaven  ;  it  is  not  even  heard  of  in  hell. 
The  Bible  however  is  continually  displaj^ng 
it.     That  sacred  book  is  one  long,  crowded 


48 


THE  FUNERAL  AT  THE  GATE  OF  NAIN. 


record  of  the  triumphs  of  a  Saviour's  grsco 
over  the  woes  of  man.  And  the  histoiy  of 
the  church,  in  every  age,  exhibits  the  same 
triumphs.  Not  an  earthly  trouble  can  we 
think  of,  which  this  grace  has  not.overcome. 
Nay,  it  has  upheld  many  a  sufferer,  even 
when  a  sense  of  guilt  has  combined  with 
outward  trials  to  sink  him  into  despair. 
He  may  not,  with  the  blameless  Paul,  have 
rejoiced  in  abounding  tribulation,  for  a 
wounded  conscience  knows  no  joy  ;  but, 
with  righteous  Job,  he  has  blessed  the  name 
of  the  Lord  who  has  made  him  desolate. 
The  guilty  David,  under  a  stroke  which, 
he  says,  "  consumed"  him,  was  "  dumb," 
submissive.  And  think  again  of  Eli.  The 
judgments  with  which  he  was  thi-eatened, 
were  appalling.  None  but  a  Christian 
father  who  has  groaned  over  the  loss  of  an 
ungodly  child,  can  understand  them.  Yet 
what  was  that  old  man's  language  ?  "  It 
is  the  Lord  ;  let  him  do  what  seemeth  him 
good," 

Let  us  turn  now  from  the  gate  of  Nain 
to  ourselves.  Have  the  things  we  have 
seen  and  heard  made  any  impression  on  us  ? 
Does  sin  appear  to  us  more  fearful  than  we 
thought  it  an  hour  ago  ?  Shall  we  leave 
these  walls  more  mindful  of  death  than  we 
were  when  we  entered  them  ?  As  we  look 
on  our  children  and  friends,  are  we  more 
ready  to  look  on  them  as  fading  comforts, 
as  blessings  which  our  abuse  of  them  may 
turn  into  scourges  ?  Have  we  felt  here 
one  throb  of  pity,  or  put  up  a  single  prayer 
for  one  afflicted  soul  ?  We  have  heard  of 
the  holiness  of  Christ ;  have  we  stood  in 
awe  of  it  ?  We  have  heard  of  his  trium- 
phant grace  ;  has  our  prayer  been,  "  Bless 
me,  even  me  also,  O  my  Father  ?"  Alas, 
brethren,  with  a  suffering  and  dying  world 
before  us,  how  easy  is  it  to  give  instruction, 
but  how  difficult  to  get  these  hearts  of  ours 
practically  affected  by  it !  The  tidings  of 
deaths,  and  funerals,  and  afflictions,  reach 
us  every  day  ;  wo  do  not  hear  of  them  with 
total  unconcern  ;  but  whore  is  their  fruit  ? 
Look  for  it  in  the  parish  which  these  things 
have  overspread  with  sadness — you  look  in 
vain.  Go  for  it  to  the  house  which  they 
have  turned  into  a  house  of  sorrow — you 
cannot  ffnd  it.  Unveil  the  very  heart  which 
they  have  torn  the  most — it  is  not  even 
there.  And  why  is  this  ?  Wc  have  not 
called  upon  God.  We  forget  the  desperate 
wickedness  of  our  hearts;  we  forget  their 
hardness.      Either  we  care  nothing  about 


the  matter,  or  we  trust  to  afflictions,  ana 
warnings,  and  judgments,  to  accomplish  a 
work  which  nothing  short  of  omnipotence 
can  perform.  The  consequence  is,  the  work 
is  not  accomplished  ;  we  are  the  very  men 
we  ever  were.  We  behold  affhction,  and 
we  ourselves  endure  it ;  we  move  about 
among  the  sorrowing,  the  dying,  and  the 
dead  ;  but  nothing  changes  us.  The  great 
God  still  comes  seeking  fruit,  and  he  ffnda 
none. 

It  is  an  awful  truth,  that  suffering  never 
can  convert  the  soul ;  no,  not  even  when 
that  suffering  is  our  own.  Take  from 
amongst  ourselves  the  man  of  the  liveliest 
feeling  and  the  tenderest  heart ;  rob  him  of 
every  earthly  blessing  ;  put  "  lover  and 
friend  far  from  him,  and  his  acquaintance 
into  darkness  ;"  heap  on  his  head  all  the 
calamities  which  man,  in  his  wretchedness, 
ever  bore  ; — what  have  you  done  ?  Have 
you  brought  him  near  to  God  ?  Have 
you  forced  him  to  seek  grace  and  rest  in 
Christ  ?  No  ;  you  have  wrung  his  heart, 
but  you  have  not  changed  it.  Not  one 
right,  not  one  holy  feeling  in  it  have  you 
excited.  It  is  a  broken  heart  perhaps,  but 
yet  an  earthly,  sensual,  evil  one. 

Our  need  of  the  special  grace  of  the  Ploly 
Ghost  is  plain  and  urgent.  Nothing  can 
be  done  without  it.  The  scripture  tells  us 
so.  Our  own  experience  confirms  the  tes- 
timony. It  follows  then  that  we  must  pray 
or  perish.  We  must  cease  to  trust  in  the 
temporary  impressions  which  the  sight  of 
death  or  the  anguish  of  tribulation  can  make. 
We  must  seek  the  life-giving  power  of  the 
Holy  Spirit ;  we  must  trust  in  the  grace  of 
the  living  God. 

Go  then  and  beseech  him  to  work  effec- 
tually in  you.  Implore  him  to  turn  away 
your  eyes  I'l'om  beholding  vanity  ;  to  make 
you  feel  that  all  you  love  and  see  is  passing 
away,  that  death  is  certain  and  near,  that 
you  will  soon  be  in  the  same  world  whither 
the  dead  are  gone,  that  none  can  make  you 
happy  there  but  Christ,  that  none  but  Christ 
can  save  you  from  destruction.  Once  uni- 
ted by  a  living  faith  to  l)im,  justified  by  his 
righteousness  and  cleansed  by  his  Spirit,  all 
things  will  "  work  together  for  your  good." 
The  sufferings  of  others  will  teach  you  how 
to  suffer;  your  own  will  "turn  to  your  sal- 
vation" and  your  Redeemer's  glory.  The 
death  of  friends  will  be  made  the  means  of 
preparing  you  to  die  ;  and  what,  bretliren, 
will  your  own  death  do  for  you  when  it 


COMPASSION  OF  CHRIST  FOR  THE  WIDOW  OF  NAIN. 


comes  ?  It  will  achnit  vuu  into  a  world  of 
light,  and  life,  and  joy  ;  a  world  in  which 
there  is  no  sickness,  no  pain,  not  a  tear  nor 
a  grave  ;  a  world  in  which,  for  the  first 
time,  you  may  say,  "  I  am  safe  ;  I  am  free  ; 
I  am  blessed." 


SERMON    IX. 

THE  COIMPASSION  OF  CHRIST  FOR  THE 
WIDOW  OF  NAIN. 

St.  Luke  vii.  13. 

When  the  Lord  saw  her,  he  had  compassion  on 
her,  and  said  unto  her.  Weep  not. 

The  sacred  historians  seldom  tell  us  what 
Christ  felt.  Their  business  lay  with  his 
wonderful  actions  and  gracious  words,  ra- 
ther than  with  his  feelings.  Whenever 
therefore  they  mention  any  particular  effect 
produced  on  his  mind  by  passing  circum- 
stances, we  may  be  sure  that  there  is  some- 
thing remarkable  in  that  effect ;  something 
which  is  worthy  of  our  close  attention,  and 
was  intended  to  arrest  it. 

He  had  now  a  funeral  before  him.  *'  Be- 
hold, there  was  a  dead  man  carried  out,  the 
only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  wid- 
ow." Our  Lord  could  not  behold  with  in- 
difference such  a  scene  as  this.  In  a  mind 
like  his,  it  must  have  excited  many  and 
strong  emotions.  One  only  is  mentioned. 
It  is  compassion.  Concerning  this,  we  find 
these  four  particulars  recorded ; — its  nature, 
its  object,  the  cause  which  drew  it  forth, 
and  one  of  the  effects  which  it  produced. 

I.  Consider  its  luiture.  The  original 
word  implies  that  it  was  deep  and  tender  ; 
not  that  slight  movement  of  pity  with  which 
we  are  affected,  when  we  hear  of  the  sor- 
rows of  a  neighbor ;  but  the  lively  and 
strong  feeling  which  agitates  our  hearts, 
when  we  l«X)k  on  the  sufferings  of  a  friend 
or  a  child.  It  is  more  than  a  feeling  for  the 
wretche-d  ;  it  is  a  feeling  with  them. 

We  often  ascribe  sue!  compassion  as  this 
to  God,  and  we  are  warranted  to  do  so. 
The  scripture  has  done  so  before  us.  "  His 
soul,"  we  are  told,  "  was  grieved  f()r  the 
misery  of  Israel."  "  In  all  their  afflic- 
tions," says  Isaiah,  "  he  was  afllicted,  and 
tlie  Angel  of  his  presence  saved  them  :  in 
his  love  and  in  his  pity,  he  redeemed  them." 


But  we  dare  not  give  to  this  language  its 
full  meaning.  The  great  God  cannot  be 
affected  as  we  are  ;  he  can  know  nothing 
of  human  passions  and  human  infirmities. 
And  yet  we  are  taught  that  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  has  known  and  experienced  them 
all.  His  soul  has  been  "  exceeding  sor. 
rowful  ;"  he  has  l)een  "  moved  with  com- 
passion  ;"  he  has  "  wept." 

Here  then  we  come  to  the  first  cheering 
truth  which  this  history  confirms — the  real 
and  complete  manhood  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  Few  of  us  think  enough  of  this. 
We  are  told  that  he  "  was  made  man,"  and 
we  believe  the  amazing  fact  ;  but  then  we 
generally  confine  our  view  of  his  manhood 
to  the  mere  form  he  took  on  him,  to  the 
body  in  which  he  suffered  and  died.  But 
the  scripture  goes  much  further.  It  speaks 
of  him  as  man  within  as  well  as  without; 
as  possessing  a  human  soul  as  well  as  a 
human  frame  ;  as  being  as  truly  and  ex- 
perimentally acquainted  with  human  feel- 
ings, sin  only  excepted,  as  any  one  of  our- 
selves. 

It  tells  us  too  why  this  human  soul  and 
these  human  feelings  were  given  him.  It 
was  for  a  most  wonderful  and  gracious  pur- 
pose— that  he  might  carry  them  up  with 
him  to  his  lofty  throne,  and  feel,  like  a 
brother,  in  heaven,  for  those  whom  he  has 
left  in  tribulation  on  earth.  This  is  Saint 
Paul's  account  of  the  ma,tter  ;  "  It  behooved 
him  to  be  made  in  all  things  like  unto  his 
brethren,  that  he  might  be  a  merciful  and 
faithful  High  Priest."  "  For  in  that  he 
himself  hath  suffered  being  tempted,  he  is 
able  to  succor  them  that  are  tempted." 

We  lose  nothing  then  by  the  high  exalta- 
tion of  the  Son  of  man.  Our  misery  can 
reach  him  at  the  right  hand  of  his  Father, 
just  as  quickly  as  this  widow's  reached  him 
when  he  was  by  her  side  at  Nain  ;  it  can 
move  his  heart  as  deeply.  It  cannot  indeed 
disquiet  his  soul,  as  the  sight  of  misery  dis- 
quieted him  in  the  days  of  his  flesh  ;  he  no 
longer  weeps  and  is  troubled  ;  but  it  affects 
him  as  much.  Nay,  it  possibly  affects  him 
more.  His  human  soul  is  now  "  made  per- 
fect;" its  powers  are  enlarged.  Its  com- 
passion may  consequently  be  increased. 
Nothing  assuredly  is  gone  from  it  but  its 
pain  and  weakness.  It  is  a  father's  pity, 
without  its  imperfection  ;  it  is  a  mother's 
love,  softened  and  heightened  by  the  love  of 
heaven. 

II.  Pass  now  from  the  nature  of  this  com- 


50 


COMPASSION  OF  CHRIST  FOR  THE  WIDOW  OF  NAIN. 


passion,  to  its  ohjrcf.  This  was  not  tlie 
dead  man  who  was  carried  out,  though  he 
was  cut  otF  in  the  strength  of  manhood  ;  it 
was  his  surviving  mother. 

1.  Learn  here  then  that  the  ohjects  of  our 
Lord's  compassion  are  the  living.  Tliey 
wliom  he  pities,  are  not  to  be  found  in  heaven 
or  in  hell.  We  must  look  for  them  only 
in  our  own  world.  And  where  shall  we 
go  in  order  to  find  them  here?  To  our 
churchyards  ?  To  our  vaults  and  graves  ? 
No  ;  to  our  churches,  our  houses,  our  homes. 

2.  L,earn  also  that  our  grief  for  the  dead 
must  not  stand  in  the  icay  of  oar  compassion 
for  the  living. 

We  weep  for  the  dead.  Let  nature 
speak,  and  we  should  all  say  that  we  do 
well  to  weep  for  them,  especially  when  death 
comes  suddenly  upon  them  in  the  days  of 
their  youth.  O  what  a  strange  and  melan- 
choly change  have  they  experienced  !  In- 
stead of  the  cheerful  light  of  day,  the  un- 
broken darkness  of  the  grave  forever  covers 
them.  They  are  alone,  solitary  there  ;■ 
their  only  companion  is  the  worm.  All 
their  earthly  hopes  have  died,  and  their  ex- 
pectations perished.  But  the  dead  need  no 
pity.  Every  tear  which  nature  makes  us 
shed  for  them,  is  lost. 

Tf  they  died  the  enemies  of  God,  we  are 
called  to  a  harder  work  than  mourning  and 
weeping.  Now  is  the  time  when  all  the 
corruptions  of  our  fallen  nature  will  try 
their  strength.  Satan  will  "  come  in  upon 
us  like  a  flood."  No  hour  perhaps  is  so 
much  his  hour  as  this  ;  never  is  the  power 
of  darkness  more  fearful.  Left  to  them- 
selves, every  movement  of  our  souls  will  be 
an  accusation  against  the  King  of  heaven  ; 
every  thought,  rebellion.  We  shall  be  as 
blasphemous  as  though  we  ourselves  were 
lost,  and  almost  as  wretched.  In  such  a 
perilous  situation,  we  have  neither  time  nor 
strength  for  useless  sorrow.  Our  own  hearts 
require  our  care.  Our  business  is  not  to 
mourn,  but  to  "  humble  ourselves  under  the 
mighty  hand  of  God,"  to  tremble  and  be 
still. 

If  they  whom  we  have  lost,  are  safe  with 
Christ,  have  we  not  more  reason  to  envy 
than  to  pity  them  ?  Put  the  question  to 
yourselves — Which  is  more  the  object  of 
grief,  a  ransomed  sinner  caught  up  into 
heaven  out  of  this  troublesome  world,  or 
you  Mho  are  left  behind  amidst  its  sorrows  ? 

You  say,  perhaps,  with  the  agitated  Da- 
/id,  "  Would  to  God  I  had  died  for  thoni !" 


But  pause  for  a  moment.  Ask  }'0urselve8 
another  question — Were  it  in  your  power, 
would  you  take  them  from  the  blessedness 
of  Jehovah's  house,  and  give  them  in  ex- 
change for  it  the  pangs  which  their  loss  has 
occasioned  you  ?  the  forlornness,  the  deso- 
lation, which  is  now  overspreading  your 
heart  1  The  thought  is  a  cruel  one.  Hear 
then  the  language  of  the  prophet ;  "  Weep 
ye  not  for  the  dead,  neither  bemoan  him." 
And  what  would  be  the  language  of  your 
buried  friend,  could  he  speak  to  you  from 
his  glorious  rest  ?  "  Weep  not  for  me,  but 
weep  for  yourselves."  "  If  ye  loved  me, 
ye  would  rejoice." 

Your  feelings  are  roused,  brethren.  Waste 
them  not  in  the  indulgence  of  a  compassion 
which  is  not  needed.  Give  them  a  new  di- 
rection. Let  your  surviving  fi'iends,  let  a 
suffering  world,  let  millions  of  thoughtless 
and  dj^ing  men,  let  your  own  poor  soul, 
have  more  of  your  love  and  pity.  You 
cannot  add  to  the  joys  of  heaven,  but  you 
may  lessen  the  woes  of  earth.  It  is  your 
duty  to  lessen  them  ;  and  that  grief  for  the 
dead  is  neither  Christian  nor  right,  which 
hinders  you,  for  any  long  time,  from  help- 
ing the  living. 

We  have  seen  then  the  nature  of  oui 
Lord's  compassion — it  is  a  lively  pity,  a 
deep  and  tender  sympathy.  We  have  seen 
also  its  objects — they  are  the  men  wdio  are 
now  alive  on  the  earth.  And  here  a  ques- 
tion arises — How  may  we  obtain  for  our- 
selves this  divine  compassion  ?  How  may 
we  get  within  its  reach  ?  The  text  answers 
this  question. 

III.  Consider  the  cause  which  drew  forth 
the  Saviour's  pity. 

This  widow  was  not  the  personal  friend, 
nor  yet  a  follower  of  our  Lord  ;  at  least, 
she  is  not  described  as  such.  Neither  did 
she  ask  him  for  his  sympathy.  It  was  sim- 
ply the  sight  of  her  misery,  which  obtained 
it  for  her.  "  When  the  Lord  saw  her,  he 
had  compassion  on  her."  It  might  be  that 
his  tlioughts  were  carried  forward  to  a  fu- 
ture and  yet  more  distressing  burial.  The 
hour  of  his  own  departure  was  not  far  dis- 
tant. In  the  anguish  he  now  witnessed,  he 
saw  perhaps  an  image  of  that  sword  which 
would  soon  pierce  through  the  soul  of  an- 
other parent.  He  thought  of  his  own  be- 
loved mother  weeping  over  his  own  man- 
gled frame,  and  his  soul  was  moved. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  we  may  safely  come 
to  this  conclusion — The  si/mjutthy  of  Christ 


COMPASSION  OF  CHRIST  FOR  THE  WIDOW  OF  NAIN. 


61 


is  as  free  as  his  grace.  It  takes  its  rise  out 
of  the  very  same  love  that  nailed  him  to 
the  cross.  It  may  be  obtaiiifd  on  terms  as 
gracious  as  the  mercy  which  saves  the 
soul.  It  wants  nothinir  to  place  sinner 
within  its  reach,  but  misery.  The  objects 
of  it  are  all  the  wretched. 

I  do  not  say  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
felt  for  thi.s  widow,  as  he  would  have  felt, 
under  similar  circumstances,  for  one  of 
those  faithful  women  who  followed  him  in  his 
wanderings  ;  or  as  he  actually  did  feel  for 
the  afflicted  Martha  and  Mary  "  whom  he 
loved  ;"  or  as  he  might  have  felt  fur  this 
widow  herself,  had  she  supplicated  his  pity. 
He  loves  them  that  are  his,  as  he  loves  none 
other  ;  he  "  manifests  himself  unto  them  as 
he  does  not  unto  the  world  ;"  and  as  for 
tJie  prayer  of  the  sorrowful,  it  calls  into  ex- 
ercise his  tenderest  mercy.  But  let  us  not 
limit  the  grace  which  knows  no  bounds. 
Are  you  suffering  ?  It  matters  not  whence 
that  suffering  proceeds,  you  are  already 
one  of  those  whom  Christ  compassionates. 
There  is  not  a  sinner  on  the  earth,  who  has 
not  a  measure  of  his  compassion  ;  no,  nor  a 
pang  in  any  heart  with  which  he  is  not 
touched.  Turn  to  the  grave  of  Lazarus. 
What  drew  forth  those  groans  and  tears 
which  came  from  the  Saviour  there  ?  Not 
the  loss  of  his  friend  simply.  Four  days 
before,  he  knew  that  he  was  gone,  and 
spake  of  his  death  with  unbroken  calm- 
ness. He  wept  because  he  could  not  look 
on  misery  without  emotion,  because  the 
sufferings  even  of  his  bitterest  enemies 
found  their  way  to  his  heart.  "  When 
Jesus  saw  Mary  weeping,  and  the  Jews 
also  weeping  which  came  with  her, 
he  groaned  in  the  spirit,  and  was  trou- 
bled." 

IV.  We  come  now  to  look  on  this  ten- 
der and  free  compassion  in  its  effects. 

Of  these,  only  one  is  recordf,'d  in  the 
text.  It  manifested  itself  in  words.  These 
however  were  only  two.  Jesus  said  unto 
her,  "  Weep  not."  Yet  even  these  two 
short  words  seem  at  first  unmeaning  and 
useless.  Our  Lord  could  not  intend  to  for- 
bid a  widowed  mother  to  weep  at  the  fu- 
neral of  an  only  son,  nor  could  one  simple 
sentence  be  expected  to  heal  the  grief  from 
which  her  tears  prnceedcd.  What  then 
was  the  design  of  this  address? 

1.  We  shall  not  greatly  err,  if  we  con- 
sider it  as  intended  to  show  us,  first,  the 
earnest  desire  of  the  Saviour's  heart  for  the 


consolation  of  the  ajjliclcd  ;  his  readiness  to 
comfort  them. 

In  another  minute,  this  widow's  grief 
would  come  to  an  end.  Our  Lord  knew  this. 
He  himself  was  about  to  turn  it  into  joy. 
Yet  he  cannot,  even  for  a  few  brief  sec- 
onds, leave  her  to  weep  unnoticed.  The 
words  of  comfort  drop,  as  it  were  involun- 
tarily, from  his  lips.  He  said  unto  her, 
"  Weep  not."  There  is  something  very 
touching  in  this  circumstance. 

We  know,  brethren,  that  there  is  a  glo- 
rious rest  prepared  for  the  people  of  God  ; 
we  know  too  that  they  will  soon  enter  into 
it.  Now  it  might  have  been  supposed 
that  this  was  enough  ;  that  he  who  has 
prepared  such  a  rest  for  tliem,  and  them 
for  such  a  rest,  might  well  leave  them,  for 
a  few  short  years,  to  bear,  with  their  fel- 
low-sinners, their  full  share  of  the  griefs 
which  are  so  soon  to  end.  But  no  ;  they 
are  sorrowful,  and  they  must  be  comforted. 
Heaven  when  they  die,  is  not  enough ; 
they  shall  have  heavenly  consolations  while 
they  live  ;  and  Christ  himself  will  impart 
them. 

Before  he  entered  the  world,  this  was 
his  command  to  his  prophet,  "  Comfort  ye, 
comfort  ye  my  people.  Speak  ye  com- 
fortably to  Jerusalem."  When  he  ap- 
peared amongst  us,  he  came  "  as  the  con- 
solation of  Israel."  Hear  him  opening  his 
own  commission  at  Nazareth  ;  "  The  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  is  upon  me  ;  because  he  hath 
anointed  me  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the 
poor  ;  he  hath  sent  me  to  heal  tlie  broken- 
hearted." And  look  at  him  when  his  great 
tribulation  w-as  coming  on.  He  shrunk 
from  the  prospect,  but  yet  it  could  not  keep 
his  thoughts  from  the  griefs  of  others.  He 
knew  that  though  they  would  all  forsake 
him,  his  loss  would  make  his  dear  disciples 
sad,  and  he  spent  his  last  hours  in  prepar- 
ing them  for  their  approaching  sorrow. 
"  These  things,"  said  lie,  "  have  I  spoken 
unto  you,  that  my  joy  might  remain  in  you, 
and  that  your  joy  might  be  full."  And 
when  he  left  the  eartli,  what  was  his  last 
request  to  the  friends  who  surrounded  him  ? 
He  tells  them  to  "  go  into  all  the  world," 
and  carry  comfort,  "  the  gospel,"  glad  ti- 
dings of  great  joy,  "  to  every  creature." 
If  we  follow  him  into  heaven,  he  appears  as 
a  Comforter  still.  Not  satisfied  with  filling 
the  wide  kingdom  of  the  redeemed  with  joy, 
he  speaks  peace  to  them  who  are  mourn- 
ing here.     The  very  Spirit  whom  he  sends 


52 


COMPASSION  OF  CHRIST  FOR  THE  WIDOW  OF  NAIN. 


forth  to  lead  thein  to  himself,  is  appointed 
to  make  tlieii*  hearts  burn  with  joy  in  their 
way  to  him.  And  this  is  not  all.  Even 
Avhen  sorrow  and  crying  shall  be  done 
away,  when  all  his  people  are  brought  to 
heaven,  and  not  a  grief  can  be  found  among 
thein  all,  what  is  his  language  ?  It  seems 
as  though  ho  could  not  bear  the  thought  of 
ceasing  from  the  work  he  loves.  He  speaks 
of  himself  as  still  employed  in  it.  He 
"  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their 
eyes." 

2.  This  saying  of  Clirist  may  show  us 
also  his  knowledge  of  the  human  heart. 

Deep  grief  will  not  bear  many  words. 
Reasoning  is  thrown  away  upon  it.  Offer- 
ed in  such  a  form,  comfort  is  worse  than 
useless  ;  it  wearies  and  oppresses.  The 
fact  is,  that  a  severe  sufferer  cannot  rea- 
son. He  is  alive  to  feeling  only  ;  and  it 
is  by  feeling  that  we  must  reach  his  heart. 
Reason  with  him,  and  though  your  words 
be  wise  as  an  angel's,  they  will  do  him  no 
good.  He  will  only  say  with  another  ha- 
rassed mourner,  "  I  have  heard  many  such 
things.  Miserable  comforters  are  ye  all." 
But  show  the  man  compassion,  and  he  un- 
derstands your  kindness.  Feel  for  him 
and  with  him  ;  he  thanks  you,  and  is  com- 
forted. > 

Look  at  the  friends  of  Job.  They  acted 
at  first  with  a  wisdom  and  tenderness  that 
make  us  love  them.  As  soon  as  "they 
heard  of  all  the  evil  that  was  come  upon 
him,  they  came  to  mourn  with  him  and  to 
comfort  him."  And  how  did  they  pro- 
ceed ?  "  They  lifted  up  their  voice  and 
wept ;  and  they  rent  every  one  his  man- 
tle, and  sprinkled  dust  upon  their  heads 
towards  heaven.  So  they  sat  down  with 
him  upon  the  ground  seven  days  and  seven 
nights ;  and  none  spake  a  word  unto  him, 
for  they  saw  that  his  grief  was  very  great." 

It  was  precisely  in  the  spirit  of  these 
men,  that  our  Lord  acted  towards  this  be- 
reaved mother.  "  He  had  compassion  on 
her,"  He  said  just  enough  to  show  the 
feeling,  and  then  was  silent. 

It  was  the  same  at  Bethany.  Martha 
meets  the  Saviour  as  he  was  drawing  near 
to  her  afllicted  home.  She  was  in  sorrow. 
She  loved  iier  Ijrother,  and  she  mourned 
for  him  ;  but  she  had  not  Mary's  depth  of 
feeling  ;  her  grief  was  calm.  She  ad- 
dresses her  Lord  like  one  who  could  listen 
to  consolation,  and  who  wished  for  it.  He 
accordijigly  speaks   to   her ;    he   reasons 


with  and  consoles  her.  But  how  iifferen 
is  his  conduct  towards  the  gentle  Mary  ; 
She  hears  from  Martha,  that  he  was  come, 
at  whose  blessed  feet  she  had  often  sat ; 
and  with  all  the  speed  which  love  could 
give  her,  she  rises  up  and  runs  to  him. 
One  sentence  is  all  that  her  bursting 
heart  would  allow  to  come  from  her  ;  the 
next  moment  she  is  on  thef  grpund  at  his 
feet.  Mark  his  conduct.  He  probably 
loved  this  woman  more  than  he  loved  Mar- 
tha :  she  loved  him  more  ;  she  was  more 
like  him  :  but  not  a  word  of  consolation 
does  he  offer  her.  He  shows  his  love  in 
another  manner.  He  "  groaned  in  the 
spirit ;"  he  "  wept."  And  then,  as  though 
he  could  bear  no  more,  as  though  he  were 
impatient  to  end  her  anguish,  he  abruptly 
asks,  "  Where  have  ye  laid  him  ?"  and 
calls  the  departed  Lazarus  from  his  tomb. 
If  this,  brethren,  be  not  human  feeling,  and 
tender  and  refined  human  feeling,  where 
shall  we  find  it  1 

The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  knows  the  heart. 
He  knows  all  its  workings,  and  feelings, 
and  windings.  He  knows  it  altogether. 
No  peculiarity  of  disposition  or  of  situation 
can  hide  one  of  its  thoughts  from  him. 
We  cannot  thus  enter  into  each  other's 
hearts.  We  are  not  all  formed  alike  ;  we 
do  not  feel  alike  ;  we  are  not  all  affected 
in  the  same  manner  and  degree  by  the 
same  circumstances.  We  therefore  per- 
plex one  another.  Our  fellow-man  seems 
strange  to  us,  and  we  strange  to  him.  But 
Christ  can  understand  us  all.  He  can 
fathom  every  heart  to  the  very  bottom  of 
its  sorrows.  And  why  ?  Because  he 
knows  by  experience  what  is  in  man. 
There  was  laid  on  him  the  misery,  as  well 
as  the  iniquity,  of  us  all.  He  is  acquainted 
with  our  griefs,  because  "  he  hath  borne 
our  griefs  and  carried  our  sorrows;"  all 
our  griefs  and  all  our  sorrows.  Hear  the 
apostle's  statement  of  this  truth  ;  "  We 
have  not  an  High  Priest  which  cannot  be 
touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities, 
but  was  in  all  points  tempted,"  or  troubled, 
"  like  as  we  are." 

The  subject  we  have  thus  considered, 
may  be  applied  to  many  practical  uses. 

It  shows  us  llie  importance  of  a  frequent 
remembrance  of  the  Redeemer's  manhood. 

We  are  all  born  to  trouble.  However 
diversified  our  lots  may  be,  every  one  of  us 
will  find,  in  the  end,  that  sorrow  is  his  birth- 
right.    Now  sorrow,  when  it  is  heavy  and 


COMPASSION  OF  CHRIST  FOR  TIH:  WIDOW  OF  NAIN. 


53 


long  c^ntinuecI,  weakens  the  mind.  It  can 
be  effectually  relieved  by  (Jod  only,  but 
its  tendency  is  to  render  us  less  disposed 
to  lift  up  our  hearts  to  God,  less  ready  to 
call  into  exercise  those  principles  which 
have  been  in  ordinary  troubles  our  support 
and  solace.  The  great  God  seems  so  higli 
above  us,  so  distant  from  us,  that  we  de- 
spair of  reaching  him.  We  say  indeed, 
with  Job,  "  O  that  I  knew  where  I  might 
find  him  !  that  I  might  come  even  to  his 
seat!"  but  then  we  too  often  add  with  de- 
sponding Zion,  "  The  Lord  hath  forsaken 
me,  and  my  Lord  hath  forgotten  me."  And 
yet  at  this  very  time  perhaps,  we  can  talk 
of  our  griefs  to  a  fellow-sufferer,  and  feel 
them  lessened  as  we  tell  him  of  them. 

Here  then  we  discover  the  means  by 
which  we  may  hold  communion  with  the 
God  of  heaven.  Set  him  before  you  as  the 
Son  of  man.  Look  on  him  as  he  appeared 
in  mortal  flesh,  "  a  man  of  sorrows  ;"  a 
man  of  deep  experience  in  all  the  woes 
which  can  rack  the  heart ;  a  man  of  the 
liveliest,  tenderest,  most  intense  compas- 
sion. Place  him,  as  it  were,  by  your  side. 
Regard  him  as  your  "  companion  in  tribu- 
lation." Like  Enoch,  walk  with  him. 
Like  John,  lean  on  his  bosom.  He  is  not 
ashamed  to  call  his  people  brethren  ;  O  let 
them  not  be  afraid  to  use  him  as  a  Brother 
and  a  Friend ! 

This  scripture  directs  us  also  loliere  to 
go  for  compassion.  You  are  ready,  breth- 
ren, to  turn  for  it  to  earthly  friends.  Your 
hearts  often  ache  for  the  sympathy  of  some 
fellow-worm.  Wliich  of  you  has  not  said 
in  his  trouble,  "  Have  pity  upon  me,  have 
pity  upon  me,  O  ye  my  friends,  for  the 
hand  of  God  hath  touched  me  ?"  And  what 
is  their  pity  when  you  obtain  it  ?  You  feel 
that  it  seldom  reaches  your  case,  that  it 
never  goes  so  far  as  your  sorrows  go. 
There  is  something  in  your  grief,  which 
you  cannot  make  even  your  tenderest  friend 
comprehend  ;  something  which  you  must 
bear  alone. 

These  disappointments  bid  you  look  high- 
er. They  tell  you  that  the  earth  cannot 
afford  a  wounded  spirit  the  sympathy  it 
craves.  There  is  but  One  in  all  the  uni- 
verse, who  can  show  or  feel  it.  He  feels 
it  already  ;  he  is  prepared  to  show  it,  ready 
to  meet  you  as  a  Friend.  He  has  endured 
much,  that  he  might  be  qualified  to  have 
compassion  on  you.  O  that  you  could  he 
prevailed   on    to  make  trial    of  Jiis  love  ! 


Hear  his  own  gracious  invitation  ;  "  Come 
unto  me,  all  ye  tliat  labor,  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  If  you 
are  heavy  laden,  no  matter  what  the  bur- 
den may  be  which  weighs  you  down,  this 
call  is  addressed  to  you.  It  may  be  true 
that  you  are  not  his  followers,  that  you 
have  never  sought  the  cleansing  of  his 
blood,  nor  accepted  Ids  great  salvation  ;  it 
may  be  true  that  you  have  lived  in  igno- 
rance of  him  all  your  days  ;  but  are  you 
weary  ?  are  you  burdened  ?  are  you  op- 
pressed ?  Then  come  to  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  for  relief.  This  widow  was  a  .stran- 
ger to  him,  yet  "  he  had  compassion  on 
her  ;"  why  should  he  refuse  to  pity  you  ? 
If  you  have  rejected  him  as  a  Saviour,  do 
not  reject  him  as  a  Friend.  It  would  in- 
deed be  awful  to  be  the  objects  of  his  mercy 
for  a  few  short  years,  and  then  to  endure 
his  wrath  forever.  But  if  you  will  not 
stretch  forth  your  hand  for  his  richest  bless- 
ings, go  to  him  for  his  least.  Any  thing 
that  brings  you  to  his  feet,  brings  you  near 
the  source  of  every  mercy.  None  ever 
offered  to  him  a  single  petition,  but  he  re- 
ceived more  than  he  sought.  For  six  thou- 
sand years  he  has  been  wont  to  give  more 
than  either  we  desire  or  deserve.  You  may 
ask  hiin  only  for  the  healing  of  a  broken 
heart ;  lie  may  give  you  salvation  for  a  lost 
soul.  The  consolation  you  receive  may  be 
the  beginning  of  an  eternity  of  joy. 

They  who  make  light  of  Christ,  may  see 
here  how  gracioiis  a  Being  thri/  despise. 
And  all  of  us  most  assuredly  make  light  of 
him,  who  refuse  to  avail  ourselves  of  his 
love  towards  us.  That  respect  cannot  be 
sincere,  which  allows  us  to  .seek  our  happi- 
ness anywhere  rather  than  in  him,  which 
sets  no  value  on  any  of  his  mercies,  which 
rejects  him  in  every  character  that  he  a.s- 
sumes,  treating  with  equal  neglect  his 
offers  for  eternity  and  for  time. 

It  is  not  from  infinite  greatness  only, 
that  you  are  turning  away,  brethren.  It 
is  from  infinite  kindness,  and  compassion, 
and  grace  ;  from  tenderness  which  exceeds 
that  of  the  mother  who  bare  you  ;  which 
you  may  search  for  elsewhere,  through 
earth  and  heaven,  and  will  never  find. 

Need  I  say  that  there  is  folly  in  your 
conduct  ?  O  that  there  were  nothing 
worse  !  There  is  guilt  in  it,  the  deadliest 
guilt  that  can  lie  on  the  soul.  And  there 
is  danger  too.  Insulted  greatness  is  fear, 
ful,  but  despised  love  is  tremendous.     It  is 


54 


THE  WIDOW'S  SON  RESTORED  TO  LIFE. 


the  sting  of  that  worm  wliich  never  dies,  it 
is  the  fierceness  of  that  flame  wliich  is 
never  quenched.  No  wrath  so  dreadful  as 
"the  wrath  of  the  Lamb;"  none  more 
certain.  It  is  coming  on.  Ere  long  it 
will  triumph  over  the  patience  which  now 
seems  boundless,  and  risa  above  the  com- 
passion M'hich  nothing  else  can  exhaust. 
"  Behold,  he  cometh  with  clouds,  and  every 
eye  siiall  see  him."  Shall  I  say,  "  Lift 
up  your  heads  with  joy,  for  your  redemp- 
tion draweth  nigh  ?"  Let  me  rather  say, 
"  How  shall  we  escape,  if  we  neglect  so 
great  salvation?"  "  He  that  despised  Moses' 
law  died  without  mercy  ;  of  how  much 
sorer  punishment,  suppose  ye,  shall  he  be 
thought  worthy,  who  hath  trodden  under 
foot  the  Son  of  God  ?" 


SERMON    X. 

THE  WIDOW^S  SON  RESTORED  TO  LIFE. 

St.  Luke  vii.  14,  15. 

He  came  and  touched  the  bier,  and  they  that  hare 
him,  stood  still.  And  he  said,  Young  man,  I 
say  unto  thee,  Arise.  And  he  that  was  dead, 
sat  lip,  and  began  to  speak  :  and  he  delivered 
him  to  his  mother. 

We  often  say  that  nothing  teaches  like 
affliction.  Rut  afTliclion  is  not  our  only 
teacher.  Mercy  instructs,  as  well  as 
sorrow.  Indeed  it  is  only  when  it  leads  to 
mercy,  when  it  shows  us  our  need  of  mercy 
and  makes  us  seek  it,  that  sorrow  does 
us  any  lasting  good.  The  grand  means 
which  the  Holy  Ghost  einploys  to  relieve 
and  bless  wretched  man,  is  love,  a  discov- 
ery of  the  abounding  grace  of  God  in  Jesus 
Christ.  It  follows,  therefore,  that  signal 
mercies  have  lessons  for  us,  as  well  as  sig- 
nal calamities.  Their  errand  is  not  done 
when  they  have  gladdened  us  ;  no,  nor  even 
when  they  have  warmed  our  hearts  with 
thank/ulne.ss.  They  are  teachers  sent 
from  heaven,  and,  like  afflictions,  they  will 
bear  witness  either  for  or  against  us  at  the 
judgment-seat  of  God. 

A  woman  in  deep  affliction  had  arrested 
the  notice  of  our  Lord.  She  was  a  widow, 
and  at  the  time  he  saw  her,  she  was  follow- 
ing to  Lie  grave  an  only  son.  His  soul 
was  moved  with  her  misery.  He  paused 
for  a  moment  to  address  to  her  two  short 


words  of  kindness  ;  and  then  followed  one 
of  the  most  extraordinary  displays  of  mercy 
that  ever  brought  glory  to  the  living  God. 
It  is  described  in  the  text  with  admirable 
simplicity  and  force.  So  great  indeed  is 
the  beauty  of  the  apostle's  narrative,  that 
%ve  are  in  danger  of  Ibrgetting,  in  our  ad- 
miration of  it,  that  it  was  written  for  our 
instruction. 

The  subject  which  it  ofibrs  for  our  medi- 
tation, is  the  relief  which  this  distressed 
woman  received  in  her  affliction.  We 
may  consider  this  in  five  points  of  view  ; — 
the  time  when  she  obtained  it,  the  manner 
in  which  it  was  given  her,  tlie  power  which 
wrouglit  it,  the  love  which  was  displayed  in 
its  communication,  and  the  effects  wliich  it 
produced  in  those  who  witnessed  it. 

I.  Consider  the  time  when  her  relief 
came.  It  was  a  time  when  she  least  ex- 
pected it. 

None  but  a  parent  can  tell  how  hope 
clings  to  a  parent's  heart.  A  few  days  ago, 
a  word  of  kindness  from  Christ,  or  even  his 
presence,  would  perhaps  have  made  this 
woman  eager  with  expectation.  He  had 
healed  many  that  were  sick  ;  with  what 
imploring  earnestness  would  she  have 
besought  him  to  heal  her  son  !  But  now 
her  case  seemed  hopeless.  Her  son  was 
dead.  His  grave-clothes  were  wrapped 
around  him.  The  gate  of  the  city  was 
passed.  In  another  hour  he  would  be  closed 
up  in  his  tomb.  We  accordingly  find  her 
silent ;  grateful  perhaps  for  the  pity  shown 
her  by  this  strange  Comforter,  but  neither 
imploring  nor  expecting  his  aid. 

Learn  here  then  this  lesson — Never 
think  your  case  desperate ;  never  deem 
yourselves  beyond  the  reach  of  help. 

Some  of  us  greatly  need  this  caution. 
No  sooner  does  grief  come  to  us,  than  de- 
spair comes  with  it.  We  no  more  expect 
relief,  than  we  expect  the  sun  at  midnight. 
But  what  does  this  history  say  ?  What  do 
a  thousand  histories  tell  us  ?  It  is  never 
too  late  for  Clirlst  to  help  us.  On  this  side 
of  eternity,  not  a  spot  can  be  found  nor  a 
situation  thougiit  of^,  where  man  need  de- 
spair. There  is  no  guilt  which  may  not  be 
pardoned,  no  evil  whicii  may  not  be  cured, 
no  darkness  which  may  not  be  turned  into 
light  and  joy.  Indeed  relief  is  generally 
the  nearest  to  us,  when  our  case  appears" 
the  most  desperate.  It  is  God's  \\ay  tc 
delay  his  help,  till  all  hope  from  every 
otlier  source  is  jronc. 


THE  WIDOWS  SON  RESTORED  TO  LIFE. 


55 


No  situation  could  be  more  perilous,  than 
'hat  of  Israel  in  their  departure  from  Egypt. 
Their  destruction  seemed  inevitable.  On 
Dne  side  of  ihcm  rose  Piliahiroth,  a  range 
of  lofty  clifls  ;  on  the  other  side  were  the 
forts  and  garrisons  of  tlie  Egyptians.  Be- 
fore them  was  a  roaring  sea  ;  i)ehind  them, 
the  enraged  Pharaoh,  with  his  army  and 
chariots.  This  helpless  people  gave  them- 
selves up  to  despair  one  hour,  and  saw  in 
the  next  the  salvation  of  God.  Before  an- 
other day  had  well  begun,  their  enemies 
were  overwhelmed  in  the  waters,  while 
they  themselves  were  making  the  shore  re- 
sound with  their  song  of  deliverance. 

Lazarus  of  Bethany  was  sick.  His  sis- 
ters sent  to  Jesus  a  most  touching  message  ; 
"  Lord,  behold,  he  whom  thou  lovest,  is 
sick.'"  But  Jesus  hastened  not  to  his  friend ; 
"  He  abode  two  days  still  in  the  same  place 
where  he  was."  Lazarus  died,  and  then 
at  last  said  the  Saviour,  "  I  go."  He  went, 
and  the  buried  Lazarus  lived. 

Even  when  his  aid  is  earnestly  sought, 
it  is  often  for  a  time  denied.  It  lingers  : 
the  wheels  of  his  chariot  tarry.  Nay, 
while  we  are  on  our  knees  before  him,  our 
situation  may  become  darker,  and  our  af- 
fliction heavier.  Jairus  had  an  only  daugh- 
ter. Like  many  an  only  child,  she  w^as 
struck  by  God.  Her  father  treml)led  for 
her  life.  He  flics  in  his  anguish  to  Christ. 
He  falls  down  at  his  feet,  and  "  beseeches 
him  greatly  to  come  and  lay  his  hands  on 
his  little  daughter,  that  she  may  live." 
Jesus  goes  with  him,  but  he  moves  not  with 
a  father's  haste.  He  stops  in  his  way  to 
commend  the  faith  of  another  sutTerer,  and 
while  poor  Jairus  hears  a  healed  woman 
bless  him,  his  rising  hopes  are  at  once  de- 
stroyed. -There  came  one  from  his  house, 
which  said,  "  Thy  daughter  is  dead." 
She  was  dead  ;  and  yet  this  very  child, 
ere  another  hour  had  passed,  breathed  and 
moved.     "  Her  spirit  came  again,  and  she 


And  why  does  the  Lord  act  thus  ?  For 
wise  and  gracious  ends — to  call  us  off*  from 
earthly  confidence  and  lying  refuges,  to 
bring  down  the  pride  of  our  rebellious 
hearts,  to  lay  us  in  conscious  littleness  and 
helplessness  at  his  feet,  to  make  us  glorify 
his  matchless  wisdom  when  our  deliverance 
comes. 

He  has  often  too  the  very  same  ends  in 
view,  in  the  mode  which  he  adopts  to  help 
us. 


II.  Observe  the  manner  in  which,  in  this 
instance,  his  aid  was  given.  It  came  from 
a  Being  from  whom  nothing  was  expected, 
and  in  a  way  of  which  tliisalTlicted  woman 
never  thought.  If  she  thought  at  all  of 
comfort,  she  looked  for  it  jierhaps  only  in 
ileath,  in  joining  her  husband  and  her  son, 
in  going  to  them  who  could  not  come  to 
her.  Not  one  in  all  the  multitude  around 
her  expected  Jesus  of  Nazareth  to  be  her 
Comforter,  much  less  her  lost  son  to  rise  up 
from  the  dead  to  dry  her  tears. 

Signal  mercies  seldom  reach  us  in  the 
way  we  look  for  them.  The  Lord  gene- 
rally draws  near  to  us  in  an  unexpected 
manner,  as  well  as  at  an  unexpected  time. 
Israel,  in  the  desert,  were  perishing  with 
hunger ;  their  food  came  from  the  clouds. 
They  were  dying  with  thirst ;  "  he  brought 
them  forth  water  out  of  the  rock  of  flint." 
And  think  of  that  greatest  of  all  Jehovah's 
doings,  the  redemption  of  his  church.  Had 
men  and  angels  sat  in  council  to  devise  a 
plan  by  which  lost  sinners  might  be  saved, 
could  it  ever  have  entered  into  their  hearts 
to  conceive  of  the  incarnation  of  the  Son  of 
God  ?  of  bringing  him  from  the  bosom  of 
his  Father,  and  placing  him  in  degradation 
and  misery  in  such  a  world  as  this  ?  And 
how  have  our  own  best  mercies  come  ? 
And  how  are  they  daily  coming  ?  Not 
from  the  friends  on  whom  ^vc  have  most 
depended  ;  not  through  the  channels  which 
we  have  thought  must  bring  them.  No.  All 
these  have  again  and  again  failed  us.  They 
have  been  sent  us  by  means  of  which  we 
never  dreamed.  They  have  come  in  a 
way  which  has  filled  us  with  wonder, 
while  it  has  shown  us  the  hand  and  ama- 
zing greatness  of  our  God. 

III.  Consider  now  Ihe  poioer  manifested 
in  the  case  before  us. 

In  order  to  form  a  correct  idea  of  this 
aflecting  scene,  we  must  recollect  that  the 
mode  of  burial  among  the  Jews  was  not 
precisely  the  same  as  among  ourselves. 
The  dead  were  not  shut  out  from  siglit, 
w  hen  they  were  carried  to  the  tomb.  Tlieir 
bodies  were  carefully  wrapped  in  linen, 
and  then  laid  on  an  open  bier.  Thusafier 
tiic  resurrection  of  our  Lord,  we  are  told 
of  the  linen  clothes  and  napkin  that  were 
left  in  his  forsaken  sepulchre,  but  not  a 
word  is  said  of  any  colhn.  There  was 
none. 

And  it  isof  imi)ortance,in  the  instance  be- 
fore us,  to  bear  this  circumstance  in  mind. 


56 


THE  WIDOW'S  SON  RESTORED  TO  LIFE. 


It  proves  this  young  man  to  be  actually 
dead.  T'le  multitude  saw  him  dead.  His 
restoration  to  life  \\'as  therefore  a  real,  and 
not  a  pretended  miracle. 

Behold  the  Saviour  then  turning  from  the 
weeping  mother  to  the  corpse  of  her  son. 
*•  He  came  and  touched  the  bier."  Awed 
by  that  countenance  before  which  the  earth 
and  the  heavens  will  one  day  flee  away, 
"  they  that  bare  him,  stood  still."  For  a 
monient  all  is  suspense  and  wonder ;  and 
then  this  compassionate  Man  takes  on  him- 
self the  majesty  and  authority  of  God. 
"  By  his  word  the  heavens  were  made," 
and  now  by  the  breath  of  his  mouth  he  con- 
trols the  dead.  The  silent  multitude  hear 
the  command  go  forth,  "  Young  man,  I  say 
unto  thee.  Arise  ;"  and  before  their  won- 
dering eyes,  the  dead  obeys.  Whc-ncethe 
spirit  came,  we  know  not ;  in  a  moment  it 
was  there,  entering  and  animating  its  for- 
mer clay.  "  He  that  was  dead,  sat  up,  and 
began  to  speak."  And  what  were  his  words  ? 
It  is  useless  to  ask.  Let  us  rather  inquire 
what  ought  to  be  our  own.  Are  they  not  these, 
"  Verily,  this  man  was  the  Son  of  God  ?" 

1.  We  have  before  us  a  signal  proof  of 
the  Redeemer'' s  Godhead. 

Others  have  raised  the  dead ;  but  they 
have  done  so  by  means  which  plainly  de- 
clared that  the  power  they  exercised  was 
not  their  own.  Elijah,  we  are  told,  "cried 
unto  the  Lord"  at  Zarephath.  Elisha 
"  prayed  unto  the  Lord,"  when  he  restored 
to  the  Shunamite  her  son.  Peter  "  kneeled 
down  and  prayed,"  before  he  said  to  Ta- 
bitha,  "  Arise."  Our  Lord,  on  the  con- 
trary, acts  like  one  who  needs  no  assist- 
ance, who  knows  no  limits  to  his  power. 
He  commands,  and  is  obeyed  ;  he  speaks, 
and  it  is  done.  A  word  brings  Lazarus 
from  his  sepulchre ;  a  word  raises  this 
widow's  son  from  his  bier.  Where  is  the 
mortal  man  who  could  tlius  perform  such 
a  work  as  this  ?  Where  is  the  angel  who 
would  dare  attempt  it  ?  The  power  which 
accomplished  it,  is  the  same  which  breathed 
into  man  at  first  the  breath  of  life.  The 
Being  who  exercised  it,  is  the  miglity  God. 
Antl  what  follows  ? 

2.  A  second  fact  of  which  tliis  miracle 
reminds  us — /./(/'  ahil'y  of  Christ  to  raise  all 
'Jie  dead. 

Noti)ing  but  omnipotence  coidd  restore 
life  to  one  dead  body  ;  omnipotence  can 
quicken  whom  it  will.  He  wlio  raised  one, 
3an  raise  a  thousand,  can   raise  a  world. 


He  can  raise  us.  Look  forward.  When 
a  few  more  years  are  gone,  we  shall  all 
be  in  the  situation  of  this  young  man ;  we 
shall  be  dead.  Not  a  man  of  us  wdl 
breathe  the  air  or  see  the  sun.  Our  friends 
will  carry  us  out  of  the  houses  we  now 
inhabit.  We  shall  be  left  alone  in  tiie 
ground.  And  what  will  become  of  us 
there  ?  We  shall  see  corruption.  This 
breathing  clay,  these  bodies  whicli  we  love 
so  well,  will  be  as  the  clods  which  cover 
them,  vile  earth  and  dust.  And  what  if  it 
be  so  ?  He  that  said  to  a  sorrowful  motlier, 
"  Weep  not,"  says  to  his  dying  saints, 
"  Fear  not.  I  am  he  that  liveth  and  was 
dead,  and,  behold,  I  am  alive  forever  more  ; 
amen  ;  and  have  the  keys  of  hell  and  of 
death."  If,  when  we  die,  we  "  die  in  the 
Lord,"  this  is  the  promise  he  gives  us  to 
take  with  us  to  our  graves,  "  He  that  be- 
lieveth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet 
shall  he  live.  I  will  raise  him  up  at  the 
last  day."  The  same  voice  that  reached 
this  widow's  son  on  his  bier,  can  reach  us 
in  our  beds  of  dust.  It  will  be  as  power- 
ful around  this  church,  as  in  the  gate  of 
Nain.  We  ourselves  shall  hear  it.  W* 
shall  come  forth  and  live. 

3.  We  may  discover  also  here  the  potver 
of  Christ,  over  the  human  soul.  When  it  has 
left  the  body,  he  can  recall  it  at  his  will 
from  its  unknown  abode.  He  can  there- 
fore reach  it  and  control  it  while  in  the 
flesh.  If  he  can  by  a  word  restore  natural 
life,  he  can  surely  with  as  much  ease  re- 
store spiritual  life  also. 

Our  souls  are  dead,  brethren.  Their 
spiritual  and  better  life  is  gone  ;  they  are 
"alienated  from  the  life  of  God;"  they 
"  are  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins."  The 
scripture  tells  us  so.  It  discovers  to  us 
also  the  evil  and  danger  of  this  state.  It 
assures  us  that  l)cfore  we  can  see  God,  we 
must  be  raised  out  of  it ;  we  must  expe- 
rience ■within  us  a  change  as  real  and  great 
as  the  reaniniation  of  a  corpse.  And  how 
is  this  great  change  to  be  accomi)lished  ? 
Only  by  the  "  working  of  that  mighty 
power"  which  can  raise  the  dead.  If  then 
any  of  you  are  mourning  over  your  own 
dead  souls,  Christ  is  your  life.  iNeither 
men  nor  angels  can  help  you  ;  but  this  is 
your  consolation,  that  he  who  said  to  this 
young  man,  "  Arise,"  can  work  in  you 
liotli  "  to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleas- 
ure." 

But  you  are  mourning  perhaps  over  the 


THE  WIDOW'S  SON  RESTORED  TO  LIFE. 


57 


souls  of  others.  While  the  sons  and  daugh- 
ters of  youi  neighbors  go  down  to  the  grave, 
your  own  live  before  you,  but  they  are  not 
alive  unto  GckI.  Tlicir  state  is  a  grief  and 
terror  to  you.  Often  does  it  force  from  you 
the  cry  of  the  supplicating  patriarch,  "  O 
that  Ishmael  might  live  before  thee  !" 
This  miracle  shows  you  in  whom  your 
hope  lies.  And  in  whom  would  you  wish 
it  to  lie,  rather  than  in  him  ?  Send  your 
thouglits  round  all  the  beings  you  have  ever 
seen  or  heard  of — is  there  one  among  them 
all,  of  whom  you  would  seek  spiritual  life 
for  your  child,  rather  than  of  this  compas- 
sionate, this  mighty  Restorer  of  the  dead  I 
Invoke  his  aid.  Expect  it.  Disquiet  not 
yourselves  because  it  is  delayed.  "  In  the 
evening  time,  it  shall  be  light."  In  an  un- 
expected hour  the  prodigal  may  come  to 
himself.  He  may  fill  your  house  and  your 
heart  with  joy.  You  may  say  concerning 
him,  "  It  is  meet  that  we  should  make  merry 
and  be  glad,  for  this  my  son  was  dead  and 
is  alive  again  ;   he  was  lost  and  is  found." 

IV.  But  this  miracle  was  not  an  act  of 
mere  greatness ;  it  was  also  a  display  of 
love. 

Often  in  the  course  of  his  ministry,  our 
persecuted  Lord  was  called  on  to  assert  his 
dignity  by  the  exercise  of  his  mighty  power. 
Satan  tempted  him  to  prove  it  by  com- 
manding stones  to  be  made  bread  ;  the 
Jewish  rulers  asked  a  sign  from  him  ;  Her- 
od "  hoped  to  have  seen  some  miracle  done 
by  him."  He  refused  them  all.  He  stood 
before  his  enemies,  in  appearance,  power- 
less as  themselves.  But  when  this  help- 
less widow  wept  before  him,  the  glory  of 
his  Godhead  burst  forth  ;  he  manifested 
his  power  in  an  act  "  to  which  none  of  the 
sons  of  the  mighty  can  approach." 

And  mark  the  tenderness  of  his  love. 
This  young  man  was  now  a  living  monu- 
ment of  his  omnipotence,  a  proof  of  his 
divine  authority,  which  none  could  gainsay 
or  resist.  We  might  have  expected,  there- 
fore, that  he  would  say  to  him  as  he  had 
said  to  others,  "  Follow  me."  But  no. 
He  thought  more  of  this  widow's  comfort 
than  of  his  own  honor  ;  "  he  delivered  him 
to  his  mother." 

What  a  scene  was  here  !  A  son,  but  a 
moment  ago  a  senseless  corpse,  alive  in  his 
mother's  arms — a  multitude  dumb  and  mo- 
tionless with  wonder — the  Man  who  had 
wrought  t  lis  change,  unmoved,  calm  ;  look- 
ii^w  with  delight  for  a  moment  on  the  joy  [ 
8 


he  had  spread  around  him,  and  then  pass- 
ing away  from  it,  like  one  who  had  higher 
and  greater  works  to  accomplish.  We 
cannot  conceive  aright  of  such  a  scene. 
We  need  not.  We  may  however  see  in  it 
the  approhaiion  imth  which  relative  affection, 
the  love  of  one  relation  to  another,  is  viewed 
by  Christ. 

Our  Lord  never  raised  more  than  three 
persons  from  the  dead.  One  was  the  only 
daughter  of  Jairus ;  another,  the  only 
brother  of  Martha  and  Mary;  the  third, 
the  only  son  of  his  mother.  And  he  raised 
tliem  all  in  compassion  to  those  who  loved 
and  wept  for  them.  How  could  he  say  to 
parents  and  cliildren,  to  brothers  and  sis- 
ters, how  could  he  say  to  us  all  in  stronger 
terms,  "  Love  one  another  ?"  How  can 
we  wish  for  mercies  for  our  living  children, 
and  not  seek  them  of  him  1  How  can  we 
mourn  for  the  dead,  and  not  remember  that 
he  pities  us  ?  How  can  we  hear  of  ten- 
derness, and  not  think  of  Jesus  Christ  ? 

V.  The  effect  produced  by  tMs  miracle 
was  great.  Nothing  indeed  is  told  us  of 
the  future  conduct  of  the  mother  and  her 
son.  We  may  trust  that  the  hour  of  their 
reunion  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  life 
of  praise.  Could  we  look  into  heaven,  we 
should  doubtless  see  them  at  the  feet  of 
their  mighty  Lord,  ascribing,  not  power 
and  love  only,  but  salvation  to  his  name. 

The  surrounding  multitudes  were,  for  a 
time  at  least,  deeply  impressed.  And  here 
the  Holy  Spirit  is  not  silent.  The  sensa- 
tion excited  among  them,  and  the  very 
words  they  uttered,  are  recorded.  And 
this  probably  to  teach  us  that  the  mercies 
we  witness  are  designed  to  affect  lis,  as  well 
as  the  mercies  w^e  receive. 

Our  neighbors  rejoice  ;  we  rejoice  with 
them  ;  but  do  we  try  to  make  the  things 
wiiich  gladden  them,  testify  to  us  of  Christ  ? 
Do  we  hear  him  speaking  to  ourselves  in 
them  ?  Some  of  us  perhaps  might  almost 
answer,  "  Never."  We  seldom  think  of 
going  to  the  house  of  joy  and  health  for  in- 
struction. Perhaps  we  love  the  house  of 
mourning  better.  There  may  be  some- 
thing in  the  emotions  it  raises,  and  in  the 
lessons  it  conveys,  more  in  unison  with  our 
daily  thoughts.  This  is  not  indeed  a  com- 
mon state  of  mind.  It  is  well  that  it  is  not ; 
it  is  not  a  happy  state.  Tliat  is  tlie  holiest 
heart,  which  dwells  the  most  on  the  love 
of  Christ,  wliich  prompts  the  tongue  to  sing 
of  mercy  oftener  than  of  judgment,  which 


58 


THE  WIDOW'S  SON  RESTORED  TO  LIFE. 


looks  ib:  its  Lord  in  the  hourly  discoveries 
of  Ids  goodness,  as  well  as  in  the  strokes 
of  his  wrath. 

But  what  are  the  particular  fruits  which 
the  sight  of  extraordinary  mercies  should 
produce  in  us  ?  They  are  the  same  as 
were  pnjduced  in  the  spectators  of  this  mira- 
cle at  Nain — an  abasing  and  reverential 
sense  of  the  Divine  presence,  exalted  views 
of  Christ,  an  opt^n  profession  of  our  faith 
in  him,  a  tliankful  acknowledgment  of  his 
goodness  and  truth,  a  hope  in  his  mercy. 
"  There  came  a  fear  on  all ;  and  they 
glorified  God,  saying,  that  a  great  prophet 
is  risen  up  among  us,  and  that  God  hath 
visited  his  people." 

Need  1  tell  you,  brethren,  that  it  would 
be  happy  for  you,  if  mercy  never  entered 
your  houses  or  your  hearts,  never  even 
came  within  your  sight,  without  bringing 
forth  such  effects  as  these  ?  Let  me  rather 
strive  to  leave  impressed  on  you  a  few 
practical  reflections,  which  the  things  you 
have  heard*are  calculated  to  enforce. 

How  strange  is  it  that  any  of  the  affiicted 
should  he  hackward  to  apply  to  Jesus  Christ 
for  relief  f  What  have  we  now  seen  in 
him  ?  The  compassion  of  a  man  ;  the 
most  loving  kindness  of  which  our  nature 
is  capable,  tl)e  tenderest  mercy. 

But  compassion,  you  say,  will  not  meet 
your  case  ;  you  need  something  more  than 
pity.  There  is  in  Christ  something  more. 
We  see- in  him  the  power  of  the  everlasting 
God.  Ho  can  help  you  in  all  difficulties, 
give  you  a  happy  issue  out  of  all  afliictions, 
take  oif  from  you  the  burden  of  any  griefs 
or  any  sins. 

Perhaps  you  doubt  this  truth.  You  may 
be  saying  in  your  hearts,  "  There  may  be 
liope  for  others,  but  there  is  none  for  me. 
My  misery  will  admit  of  no  relief.  My 
friend  is  gone.  My  child  is  taken  from 
me.  No  miracle  now  rouses  the  slumber- 
ing dead  ;  and  how  shall  I  be  comforted  ? 
Nothing  is  left  for  the  desolate,  but  to 
huml)le  themselves,  to  mourn  and  die." 
()  what  a  sinful  limiting  of  the  power  of 
God  is  here  !  Who  gave  you  at  first  the 
comforts  you  have  lost  ?  The  Lord  gave 
them.  Were  they  all  *he  comforts  he  had 
to  give  ?  Is  he  so  pooi,  that  he  must  fetch 
them  out  of  their  graves,  or  leave  you 
wretched  '?  Can  an  arm  of  flesh,  can  dust 
and  ashes,  be  necessary  for  the  peace  of  that 
heart,  with  which  he  who  fills  a  crowded 
heaven  with  blessedness,  can  do  whatsoever 


he  will  ?  True,  he  will  not  now  raise  the 
dead.  He  needs  them  not.  He  can  make 
you  happier  without  them,  than  he  ever 
made  you  with  them.  He  can  put  himself 
in  the  place  of  departed  friends.  Without 
the  aid  of  a  single  creature,  he  can  give  you 
a  peace  which  the  loss  of  all  that  is  deai 
to  you  could  not  destroy,  nor  the  opening 
of  all  the  graves  which  were  ever  closed, 
increase. 

Of  how  vast  importance  is  it  to,  us  all  to 
secure  the  friendship  of  this  great  Saviour  f 
In  one  sense,  it  is  already  ours.  There  is 
not  a  sinner  staining  the  earth  Avitn  his 
crimes,  to  whom  the  Son  of  God  does  not 
prove  himself  a  F'riend.  But  amidst  the 
compassion  towards  us  which  fills  his  heart, 
there  is  a  love  of  his  Father's  law,  a  love 
of  holiness,  stronger  than  it  all.  He  might 
have  saved  a  ruined  world  without  a  pang 
or  groan.  Who  could  have  controlled  his 
mercy  ?  But  no  :  rather  than  sin  should 
be  esteemed  a  trifle,  he  took  on  him  our 
form,  he  stood  in  our  world,  "  he  gave  his 
back  to  the  smiters,"  he  bled  and  died. 

This  fearful  hatred  of  sin,  this  awful 
regard  to  justice,  was  as  strong  when  he 
took  our  nature  with  him  into  heaven,  as 
when  he  reigned  there  only  in  his  own. 
Behold  him  weeping  over  the  approaching 
miseries  of  Jerusalem.  Never  before  was 
there  in  any  human  heart  such  strong  com- 
passion as  that  which  poured  forth  those 
tears.  But  mark — the  threatened  mise- 
ries came.  Before  fifty  years  had  passed, 
the  Jews  were  vagabonds  on  the  earth,  and 
Jerusalem  was  a  heap  of  ruins. 

Deceive  not  yourselves,  then.  There  is 
wrath  in  Christ,  as  well  as  compassion ; 
a  power  to  destroy,  as  great  as  his  power 
to  save  ;  a  voice  which  can  say,  not  only, 
"  Weep  not,"  but,  "  Depart,  ye  cursed,  into 
everlasting  fire." 

How  stands  the  case  with  you,  brethren  ? 
Are  you  the  friends  or  the  enemies  of  this 
almighty  Jesus  ?  You  are  now  the  objects 
of  his  compassion  ;  can  he  show  forth  the 
riches  of  his  grace  in  you,  when  he  comes 
to  judge  the  world  ?  Have  you  fled  to 
him  for  deliverance  from  the  curse  of  a 
broken  law  ?  Do  you  know  that  without 
him,  your  soul  is  lost  and  dead  ?  no  more 
able  to  quicken  and  save  itself,  than  this 
(lead  man  was  able  to  laise  up  himself  and 
live  ?  Is  Christ  your  refuge,  your  hope, 
your  all  in  all  ?  No  ?  Tlinn  you  will  one 
day  learn  that  he  who  can  turn  sorrow  into 


SINS  REMEMBERED  BY  GOD 


59 


joy,  can  also  turn  tlie  little  joy  that  morcy 
has  left  you,  into  the  bitterest  anguish 
"  There  eaiue  a  fear  on  all,"  when  lie  de- 
clared his  mighty  power  in  showing  mercy 
and  pity  ;  what  will  be  that  fear  which  will 
shake  the  world,  when  he  shall  be  revealed 
,  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength,  taking  ven- 
geance ?  It  will  force  you  to  say  to  the 
mountains  and  rocks,  '■  Fall  on  us,  and 
hide  us  from  the  face  of  liim  that  sitteth 
on  the  throne,  and  from  tl>e  wrath  of  the 
Lamb  ;  for  the  great  day  of  his  wrath  is 
come,  and  who  shall  be  able  to  stand  ?" 

Do  you  tremble  at  the  prospect  of  his 
wrath  ?  Does  it  appear  to  you  a  real 
and  fearful  evil  ?  Then  draw  from  this 
history  one  reflection  more.  With  what 
confidence  mat/  the  mourning  'penitent  fiee  for 
salvation  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ !  This 
is  the  inference  which  Saint  Paul  draws 
from  the  contemplation  of  his  great  com- 
passion. "  Let  us  come  boldly  to  the 
throne  of  grace,  that  we  may  obtain" — 
what  ?  Pity,  comfort,  help  ?  No — "  that 
we  may  obtain  mercy,"  the  mercy  which 
we  need  more  than  we  need  any  other 
mercy,  mercy  for  our  souls,  salvation. 

He  whom  this  history  proclaims  to  be 
so  willing  to  save  the  heart  from  the  light 
sorrows  of  this  present  time,  is  far  more 
willing  to  redeem  the  soul  from  the  bitter 
and  lasting  pains  of  eternity.  He  had  com- 
passion on  a  mother  as  she  was  weeping 
for  an  only  son ;  will  he  not  have  compas- 
sion on  you  who  are  trembling  for  a  soul, 
your  only  soul,  the  soul  which  once  lost,  is 
lost  forever  ?  He  helped  her  unasked  ; 
not  a  cry  nor  a  prayer  came  from  her  ; 
will  he  refuse  to  help  you  when  you  im- 
plore his  mercy  ?  Hear  his  own  promise  ; 
"  Ask,  and  ye  sliall  have  ;  seek,  and  ye 
shall  find."  Hear  his  own  complaint ;  "Ye 
will  not  come  unto  mo  that  ye  might  have 
life."  Hear  the  recoixl  of  a  prophet  and 
an  apostle  ;  "  Whosoever  shall  call  on  the 
name  of  the  Lord,  shall  be  saved."  "  Call 
ye  then  upon  him  while  he  is  near."  Ap- 
proach him  as  one  that  has  promised  you 
mercy,  as  one  that  is  seated  on  a  throne 
of  grace  for  the  express  purpose  of  show, 
ing  mercy,  as  one  that  "delighteth  in  mer- 
cy." Glorify  him  by  embracing  his  pro- 
mises, by  laying  hold  by  faifli  on  his  great 
salvation.  '-Tiiis  is  tlie  promise  that  he 
hath  proniisod  us,  even  eternal  life."  Seek 
life  at  liis  hands  ;  expect  it ;  not  such  a 
life  as  th's  dead  youth   received,  a  few 


feverish  years  polluted  with  the  sins  of 
earth,  darkened  by  sorrows,  and  ending  m 
corruption  ;  but  a  life  of  "glory,  honor,  and 
immorVality  ;"  a  life  like  the  Redeemer* 
own,  incorruptible  and  undefded,  quiet  a« 
the  heavens,  and  secure  as  the  tiirone  o) 
God. 


SERMON    XI. 

SINS  REME_AIBEREU  BY  GOD. 

Psalm  xc.  8. 

Thou  hast  set  our  iniquities  before  thee,  our  secret 
sins  in  the  light  of  tiiey  countenance. 

Sooner  or  later,  brethren,  we  shall  all 
understand  these  solemn  words.  Perhaps 
we  think  that  we  understand  them  already, 
but  we  deceive  ourselves.  There  is  a 
truth  and  a  meaning  in  them,  of  which  the 
greater  part  of  mankind  know  little  more 
than  the  walls  around  us.  The  day  of 
judgment  will  make  them  plain.  Before 
however  that  day  arrives,  tlieir  importance 
must,  in  some  degree,  be  discovered  by  us. 
If  we  see  it  for  the  first  time  in  an  eternal 
world,  we  are  lost. 

The  first  step  towards  this  discovery  is 
to  get  as  clear  a  notion  as  we  can  of  the 
objects  which  the  great  God  is  here  said  to 
place  so  very  near  him.  And  this  w'e 
shall  obtain,  if  we  ask,  in  the  first  instance, 
what  those  things  are  of  which  the  psalm- 
ist  speaks  ;  and  then  notice,  secondly,  the 
peculiar  propriety  with  which  he  calls 
them  ours. 

I.  The  first  of  these  inquiries  brings  be- 
fore us  nothing  which,  in  Itself,  can  give 
us  one  moment's  pleasure.  It  forces  on 
our  attention  subjects  of  painful,  but  yet  of 
tremendous  interest ;  things  which  make 
devils  tremble,  and  angels  wonder  ;  evils 
which  have  cursed  this  once  happy  world, 
and  will  soon  destroy  it ;  enemies  which, 
even  if  conquered,  will  turn  us  into  dust, 
and  wiiich,  if  yielded  to,  will  cast  us  into 
hell.  And  what  are  they  ?  Nothing  more 
than  the  things  we  so  often  regard  as  tri- 
fles— iniquities  and  sins. 

1.  "Thou  hast  set  our  iniquities  before 
thee."  We  all  know  what  is  meant  by 
iniquity  ;  it  is  another  name  for  sin.  And 
sin  is  not  merely  what  we  think  wrong, 


60 


SINS  REMEMBERED  BY  GOD. 


nor  what  our  neighbors  think  wrong,  no, 
nor  what  ministers  tell  us  is  wrong — it  is 
what  the  Lord  of  all  thinks  wrong.  The 
scripture  gives  us  this  plain  account  of  it ; 
"  Sin  is  the  transgression  of  the  law,"  the 
law  of  the  great  God. 

One  thing  then  is  already  clear — we  are 
all  sinners.  We  have  all  broken  God's 
holy  law.  The  Bible  tells  us  so.  "  All 
we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray,"  Isaiah 
says.  "  All  have  sinned,  "says  Paul.  "  In 
many  things  we  offend  all,"  says  James. 
"  There  is  not  a  just  man  upon  the  earth," 
says  Solomon,  "  that  doeth  good  and  sin- 
neth  not."  Our  ignorance  must  be  fear- 
fully great,  if  our  own  consciences  also  do 
not  tell  us  the  same. 

How  many  offences  we  may  have  crowd- 
ed into  our  short  lives,  none  but  a  heart- 
searching  God  can  tell.  The  psalmist 
takes  it  for  granted,  that  they  are  more 
than  our  most  suspicious  neighbors,  or 
than  even  our  own  hearts,  suppose. 

2.  He  goes  on  to  speak  of  secret  sins, 
and  he  speaks  of  them  as  though  they  were 
sins  of  which  Ave  are  all  guilty.  And  is 
he  not  right,  brethren  ?  Is  there  a  man 
amongst  us  all,  whose  conscience  does  not 
accuse  him  of  many  such  sins  as  these  ? 
Is  there  a-  man  on  the  earth,  whose  hidden 
transgressions  are  not  his  heaviest  and 
worst  1 

Many  of  our  iniquities  too  are  unknown 
even  to  ourselves.  We  are  sunk  very 
low.  One  s-.n  is  enough  to  ruin  our  souls. 
We  often  near  this  ;  we  profess  to  believe 
it ;  and  yet  we  go  on  sinning  every 
moment  we  breathe,  without  being  con- 
scious, perhaps  for  hours  or  days  together, 
that  we  are  sinning  at  all. 

You  know  where  this  sad  work  is  carried 
on — our  own  wicked  hearts  are  the  authors 
of  it  all.  Within  their  dark  recesses,  all 
our  secret  sins  are  committed.  They  con- 
sist partly  in  the  want  of  right  feelings 
towards  the  Being  who  made  us.  But 
these  are  not  the  worst  of  them  :  we  cherish 
wrong  feelings  towards  God  and  towards 
men. 

Their  number  is  consequently  past  all 
conception.  It  is  increasing  while  I  am 
speaking,  and  you  are  hearing,  of  them. 
It  increases  every  instant.  "  Who  can 
tell  how  oft  he  offendeth  V  We  can  num- 
ber our  pulses  as  they  beat,  we  can  number 
the  moments  as  they  fly,  we  might  number 
even  the  hairs  of  our  heads  :  but  we  can- 


not count  the  movements  of  our  ever 
restless  minds.  And  every  movement  is  a 
crime.  Such  God  regards  it.  "  Every  im- 
agination of  the  thoughts  of  man's  heart," 
he  says,  "  is  only  evil  continually."  It 
follows  then  that  we  cannot  number  our 
sins. 

Their  guilt  too  is  unspeakably  great. 
Perhaps,  brethren,  you  have  doubts  on  this 
point.  You  are  ready  to  say,  "  What, 
can  we  be  guilty,  and  yet  not  know  it  ? 
Can  there  be  guilt  in  an  error  of  which  we 
are  unconscious?"  If  we  put  this  question 
to  our  fellow-men,  many  of  them  will 
answer,  "  No :"  but  men  have  nothing  to 
do  with  this  matter.  It  lies  only  between 
us  and  our  God.  Let  us  however  hear  the 
testimony  of  some  of  the  very  best  of  our 
race.  Turn  to  your  prayer-books.  Our 
church,  in  her  Litany,  calls  these  unknown 
transgressions  "  ignorances  ;"  she  connects 
them  with  sins ;  she  teaches  us  to  pray 
for  the  forgiveness  of  them.  And  she  found 
the  petition  in  the  scripture  ;  "  Cleanse  thou 
me,"  says  David,  "  from  my  secret  faults." 
But  David  was  wrong  perhaps ;  feeling 
might  mislead  him.  No ;  in  the  fourth 
chapter  of  Leviticus,  we  find  the  great  God 
himself  appointing  a  special  sacrifice  for 
these  sins.  And  how  does  the  following 
chapter  end  1  With  the  most  express  and 
repeated  declarations  of  their  guilt ;  "  If  a 
soul  sin  and  commit  any  of  these  things 
which  are  forbidden  to  be  done  by  the 
comwiandments  of  the  Lord,  though  he 
wist'  or  knew  "it  not,  yet  he  is  guilty, 
and  shall  bear  his  iniquity."  "  Fie  hath 
certainly  trespassed  against  the  Lord." 

Observe  also  how  the  psalmist  brings 
home  these  iniquities  to  us  all.  There  is 
no  escaping  from  his  language  by  saying, 
"  I  am  pardoned  and  justified  ;  my  sins  are 
blotted  out :" — he  himself  was  pardoned. 
He  is  styled  in  the  title  of  this  very  psalm, 
"  A  man  of  God."  And  yet  he  numbers 
himself  among  the  transgressors :  he  in- 
cludes his  own  sins  among  those  which 
God  so  closely  beholds.  None  then  must 
say,  "This  text  concerns  not  me."  The 
holiest  man  on  the  earth  is  as  much  con- 
cerned in  this  declaration,  as  the  most 
abandoned  sinner.  It  is  as  true  of  Moses, 
as  of  Pharaoh  ;  of  Peter,  as  of  Judas.  It 
comprehends  us  all,  and  all  in  an  equal 
degree.  And  not  only  so,  it  comprehends 
all  the  iniquities  of  us  all. 

Wc  have  been  applying   it  perhaps  to 


SINS  REMEMBERED  BY  GOD. 


61 


some  of  our  more  heinous  and  daring  sins, 
but  it  reaches  further.  It  includes  not 
onlv  "those  tilings  whereof  our  conscience 
is  afraid,"  but  innumerable  transgressions 
which  ^ve  have  long  ago  forgotten,  and 
which  perhaps  never  gave  us  one  moment's 
disquiet.  The  follies  of  our  childhood,  ihe 
iniquities  of  our  youth,  the  misdeeds  of  our 
riper  years  ;  the  sins  of  our  hands,  the  sins 
of  our  lips,  the  sins  of  our  hearts  ;  our  sins 
in  company,  our  sins  alone ;  our  sins  in 
our  business,  our  sins  in  our  pleasures ; 
our  sins  at  home,  our  sins  abroad ;  our 
light-heartedness  and  pride  in  our  prosper- 
ity, and  our  impatience,  and  murmuring, 
and  rebellion,  in  our  troubles  ;  our  stifled 
convictions,  our  forgotten  resolutions,  our 
broken  vows  ;  our  contempt  of  the  wrath  of 
God,  our  abuse  of  his  mercy  ;  above  all, 
the  little  value  we  have  set  on  the  great 
salvation  of  his  dear  Son  ; — it  is  of  all  these, 
hi  all  their  multitude  and  all  their  enormity, 
of  which  Moses  here  speaks.  He  calls 
them  ours.  Not  satisfied  with  laying  them 
on  our  heads,  he  bids  us  look  on  them  as 
our  property,  as  altogether  our  own. 

II.  Let  us  then  go  on  to  consider  why 
we  are  to  view  them  in  this  light — the  pe- 
culiar 'propriety  icith  which  ice  may  regard  ilie 
sins  we  have  committed,  as  our  own. 

We  are  ready  enough  to  use  this  lan- 
guage concerning  other  things.  Our  sins 
however  are  more  our  own,  than  anything 
else  we  possess.  Indeed  we  possess  noth- 
ing else. 

Look  over  the  earth.  Not  an  atom  of 
its  dust  is  ours.  We  have  no  claim  to  it, 
no  right  in  it.  Bring  forward  what  title  to 
it  we  may,  it  will  prove  nothing  in  our 
favor.  It  may  bar  our  fellow-men,  but 
this  is  all  it  can  do  ;  it  will  not  stand  against 
God.  "  The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the 
fulness  thereof" 

If  we  look  through  eternity,  the  case  is 
the  same.  Its  riches  are  unsearchable. 
It  is  one  immense  storehouse  of  wealth. 
But  then  it  is  wealth  which  is  not  ours. 
On  what  there  can  fallen  man  write  his 
proud  name  ?  On  nothing.  On  nothing  ? 
O  that  it  were  so  !  There  is  one  thing  in 
eternity,  which  man  has  indeed  made  his 
own.  And  what  is  that  ?  Those  bitter 
wages  which  his  sins  have  earned — hell 
and  its  pains. 

But  let  us  come  to  the  point.  Our  sins 
are  our  own,  for  we  are  their  authors. 

No  title  can  be  better  than  that  which 


creation  gives  ;  none  so  good.  If  then 
there  is  any  thing  which  we  may  be  said 
to  have  called  out  of  nothing  into  existence, 
be  it  what  it  may,  it  is  ours — ours  by  a 
better  title  than  that  with  which  our  rich- 
est neighbor  treads  his  fields,  or  the  most 
lawful  monarch  wears  his  crown.  The 
question  is  then.  What  have  we  thus  crea- 
ted ? 

We  need  not  say  one  word  about  any  of 
the  objects  we  behold  around  us.  They 
all  bear  the  stamp  of  another  author,  the 
great  Creator  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth. 
The  only  things  which  can  for  one  moment 
be  thought  the  work  of  our  creating  power, 
must  be  found  within  us.  And  what  are 
these  ?  Learning,  knowledge,  wisdom. 
Some  of  us  have  labored  hard  for  these. 
Our  minds  at  first  were  almost  empty  ;  we 
have  filled  them,  and  filled  tliom  too,  as  it 
might  seem,  by  a  new  creation,  by  images, 
and  thoughts,  and  feelings,  which  we  can 
trace  to  no  foreign  source,  and  to  w'hich 
we  conceive  that  we  have  a  just  and  well- 
earned  claim.  But  no.  Strip  us  of  the 
knowledge  which  we  have  had  imparted  to 
us,  leave  us  only  the  thoughts  which  we 
have  created,  the  ideas  winch  have  had 
their  origin  altogether  within  our  own 
breasts — what  are  we  ?  We  are  sunk 
lower  than  the  brutes  which  perish.  We 
are  idiots. 

As  for  moral  excellences  or  spiritual 
graces,  we  are  no  more  the  autliors  of 
these,  than  we  are  of  the  holiness  of  the 
Lord  of  hosts,  or  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  They  are  all  "  the  fruits  of 
the  Spirit,"  the  work  and  gifts  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Could  we  give  birth  to  a  single 
holy  thought,  we  should  do  more  than  Job 
deemed  possible,  or  than  Paul  could  ac- 
complish. 

But  turn  to  our  sins.  Where  shall  we 
find  their  creator  ?  You  know  how  our 
fallen  parents  acted  in  paradise.  Both  ac- 
knowledged their  transgression,  but  each 
disowned  being  the  first  author  of  it.  One 
charged  her  crime  on  the  tempting  serpent, 
the  other  on  his  partner  in  rebellion,  and 
even  on  his  God.  '•  The  serpent  l)eguiled 
me,"  said  one.  "  The  woman  whom  thou 
gavest  to  be  with  me,"  said  the  other,  "  she 
gave  me  of  the  tree."  Precisely  tlius  have 
all  their  children  acted.  We  are  obliged 
to  admit  that  we  are  sinners  ;  the  fact  is 
too  plain  to  be  denier"  ;  but  is  sin  our  work  ? 
Is  its  first  cause  and  spring  to  be  discovered 


62 


SINS  REMEMBERED  BY  GOD. 


in  oar  hearts  ?  Ever  ■  tongue  says  "  No." 
We  "  all,  with  one  consent,  begin  to  make 
excuse."  We  go  out  of  ourselves  to  find 
its  root.  We  lay  the  blame  of  it  on  our 
situation,  on  the  frailty  of  our  nature,  on 
some  fellow-sinner,  on  Satan  ;  and  when 
all  these  fail  us,  rather  than  take  it  to 
ourselves,  we  do  as  Adam  did — we  cast  it 
on  our  God. 

It  is  astonishing  how  soon,  and  how 
strongly,  and  how  extensively,  this  princi- 
ple of  self-vindication  works.  The  most 
stupid  are  quick  when  they  have  to  clear 
themselves.  The  babe  that  can  scarcely 
utter  a  word,  is  ready  in  an  instant  with 
an  excuse  for  the  fault  in  which  it  is  de- 
tected. The  man  whose  pride  has  been 
broken,  over  whose  conscience  the  Holy 
Spirit  rules,  who  knows  that  his  iniquity 
is  from  fust  to  last  his  own,  even  the  en- 
lightened and  humble  Christian  often  feels 
it  hard  to  say,  "  I  am  verily  guilty.  I  am 
without  excuse." 

But  our  efforts  are  useless.  As  far  as 
we  are  sinful,  we  are  criminal.  Whatever 
may  have  excited  them,  or  whoev'^r  may 
have  shared  in  them,  our  sins  havo  taken 
their  rise  in  ourselves.  They  are  as  much 
our  own,  as  though  there  were  not  one  un- 
clean spirit  to  betray,  one  evil  example  to 
mislead,  or  one  temptation  to  allure.  The 
history  of  every  sin  is  short  and  simple ; 
"  Let  no  man  say  when  he  is  tempted,  I 
am  tempted  ■  of  God  ;  for  God  cannot  be 
tempted  v/ith  evil,  neither  tempteth  he  any 
man.  But  every  man  is  tempted  when  he 
is  drawn  avyay  of  his  own  lust  and  enticed. 
Then  when  lust  hath  conceived,  it  bring- 
eth  forth  sin,  and  sin,  when  it  is  finished, 
bringeth  forth  death."  The  testimony  of 
Saint  Paul  is  the  same.  In  his  epistle  to 
the  Ephcsians,  he  speaks  of  "  the  course  of 
this  world,"  and  of  "  the  prince  of  the 
power  of  the  air,  the  spirit  that  now  work- 
eth  in  the  children  of  disobedience  ;"  he 
admits  their  dreadful  influence,  but  does 
he  ascribe  our  trespasses  and  sins  to  them  ? 
In  no  wise.  H?  goes  within  us.  He  tells 
us  that  in  obeying  them,  we  have  only  been 
"  fulfilling  the  desires  of  the  flesh  and  of  the 
mind."  And  what  says  our  Lord — he  who 
so  well  knows  our  hearts,  and  who  loves 
those  wretched  hearts  too  well,  to  bring 
against  them  any  false  charge  ?  "  Out  of 
the  heart  proceed  evil  tho  ights,"  and  every 
evil  work. 

We  have  now  an  answer  to  our  inquiry. 


We  are  the  authors  of  our  iniquities  and 
sins ;  they  are  therefore  ours,  exclusively 
and  altogether  our  own. 

If  w^e  have  any  spiritual  thought  or  feel- 
ing within  us,  this  truth  will  call  them  both 
into  exercise  ;  we  shall  not  be  able  to  treat 
it  with  indifference.  It  will  give  rise  in 
us  to  many  solemn  reflections. 

And  this  will  be  one  of  the  first  of  them — 
Of  how  much  more  than  I  ever  imagined,  am 
I  possessed!  When  I  have  estimated  my 
property,  I  have  thought  only  of  my  silver 
and  gold,  my  houses  and  lands,  my  trade 
and  my  merchandise  ;  but  what  are  these 
in  amount  or  in  consequence,  when  com- 
pared with  the  things  I  have  passed  over, 
my  iniquities  and  sins  ? 

Perhaps,  brethren,  you  have  no  earthly 
property  to  think  of.  You  have  wished 
and  toiled  for  a  share  of  this  world's  goods, 
but  could  never  obtain  it.  But  what  a 
treasure  of  sin  have  you  been  storing  up  ! 
The  wealth  of  your  richest  neighbor  is  as 
nothing  to  it.  He  can  count  his  wealth — 
a  few  thousands  is  the  sum  of  it  all — but 
w^hich  of  us  can  count  his  iniquities  ?  Num- 
ber them  by  millions,  and  the  half  of  them 
will  not  be  told.  Reckon  up  those  sins 
only  which  you  can  remember — the  num. 
her  is  fearfully  great.  Let  those  which 
you  once  remembered  and  have  now  for- 
gotten, be  added — the  mind  shrinks  from 
the  accumulated  muss.  But  bring  your 
unknown,  your  secret  sins  to  the  account ; 
let  every  unholy  thought,  every  wrong 
movement  of  the  heart,  let  every  offence 
and  defect,  which  the  penetrating  eye  of  a 
holy  God  has  seen  within  you,  be  summed 
up — "  who  can  understand  his  errors  ?" 
What  numbers  can  express  them  ?  What 
mind  can  take  in  the  vast  amount  ?  Well 
might  we  say  one  to  another,  as  Eliphaz 
said  to  Job,  "  Is  not  thy  wickedness  great  ? 
and  thine  iniquities  infinite  ?" 

But  there  may  be  property  which  is  not 
worthy  of  its  possessor's  thoughts.  It  may 
be  extensive,  but  worthless  ;  great  in 
amount,  but  yet  insignificant  in  value.  ' 
The  owner  of  a  forest,  lor  instance,  thinks 
but  little  of  the  myriads  of  leaves  which 
drop  in  autumn  from  his  trees.  Were  he 
ever  so  mindful  of  them,  they  could  do  him 
but  little  good,  and,  if  neglected,  they  do 
him  no  harm.  Our  sins  however  are  not 
property  of  this  kind.  There  is  something 
in  them  of  such  vast  importance,  that  they 
rivet  the  attention,  they  arc  the  objects  o» 


SINS  REMEMBERED  BY  GOD. 


63 


the  close  and  constant  inspection  of  an  infi- 
nite God.  "  Tliou  hast  set  our  iniquities 
hefore  tliee,"  says  the  psahiiist,  "  our  se- 
cret sins  in  the  liirht  of  thy  countenance." 

A  second  rcdection  then  sprinjis  up  Jiere 
— How  thoughtful  ougid  I  to  be  of  my  sins  ! 
To  ibrgt  t  or  neglect  them  is  ruin  to  my 
soul.  Tlicy  arc  not  like  my  silver  or 
gold,  which  will  lie  harmless  in  my  purse  ; 
they  are  like  the  torrent  in  my  fields, 
which  must  occupy  my  care  and  labor,  or 
it  will  lay  every  thing  waste.  They  are 
like  the  disease  in  my  veins,  which  will 
carry  me  to  the  grave,  if  I  let  it  alone. 

And  then  follows  a  third  reflection — How 
anxious  ought  I  to  he  to  dispose  aright  of  imj 
sins !  But  what  can  1  do  witii  them  1 
With  their  criminality,  you  can  do  nothing. 
It  is  inseparable  from  you  ;  it  will  cleave 
to  you  forever.  May  it  forever  deeply 
abase  you  ! 

But  there  is  resting  on  you  guilt  of 
another  kind.  Your  sins  not  only  render 
you  deserving  of  Jehovah's  righteous  dis- 
pleasure, they  subject  you  to  it.  They 
bring  down  on  you  the  sentence,  the  curse 
of  his  broken  law.  You  are,  therefore,  in 
a  state  of  legal,  as  well  as  of  moral  guilt ; 
condemned,  as  well  as  sinful  ;  not  like 
malefactors  who  are  out  of  the  reach  of 
the  law  which  they  have  violated,  guilty 
but  yet  safe  ;  you  are  like  criminals  who 
have  been  apprehended,  tried,  and  sen- 
tenced. 

Now  this  is  a  guilt  which  is  capable  of 
being  removed  from  you  ;  from  which  too 
you  must  be  delivered,  or  be  undone.  But 
where  can  you  place  it  ?  Who  can  de- 
liver you  '^  There  stands  unseen,  at  your 
right  hand,  one  who  has  long  been  waiting 
to  release  you  from  the  heavy  load.  "  Be- 
hold the  lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world  !"  He  "  bare  our  sins 
in  his  own  body  on  the  tree."  The  Lord 
laid  there  on  him  "  tlie  iniquity, of  us  all." 
And  now  "  all  that  believe,  are  justified 
from  all  things."  "  They  shall  not  come 
into  condemnation,  but  have  passed  from 
death  unto  life."  There  is,  in  fact,  "  no 
condemnation"  for  them. 

Here  then  bring  your  sins,  brethren. 
Come  and  cast  them  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  Just  as  the  guilty  Jew  confessed  his 
transgressions,  and  put  them  upon  tlie  head 
of  the  scape-goat ;  so  draw  near  in  penitence 
to  tills  far  nobler  sacrifice,  and,  I)y  a  sim- 
ole  faith  in  the  efiicacy  of  his  blood,  lay 


your  sins  on  him.  He  will  beai  them  all 
away,  carry  them  into  a  land  of  oblivion, 
where  they  shall  be  remembered  against 
you  no  more. 

In  this  \\  ork  the  Redeemer  deligl.ts.  He 
is  more  willing  to  receive  your  iniquities, 
than  you  are  to  receive  his  mercies,  than 
the  neediest  beggar  would  be  to  receive 
your  gold.  Nay,  collect  all  the  treasures 
which  the  earth  contains,  no  miser  would 
grasp  them  with  half  the  joy,  with  which 
tlie  blessed  Jesus  takes  the  load  of  a  trans- 
gressor's sins.  With  him  their  bitterness 
is  past.  It  was  finished  with  his  dying 
cry.  They  can  wound  him  no  more.  But, 
brethren,  they  can  wound  you.  Refuse  to 
lay  them  on  him,  and  tliey  will  pierce  your 
inmost  soul.  They  may  sting  you  almost 
to  madness  before  you  die  ;  but  when  you 
die,  their  work  of  misery  will  iiidoed  begin. 
They  will  overwhelm  you  with  an  awe,  a 
horror,  and  a  despair,  which  will  make  you 
spectacles  of  terror,  monuments  of  wrath. 


SERMON    XII. 
SINS  REMEMBERED  BY  GOD 

FSALM   XC.    8. 

Thoa  hast  set  our  iniquities  before  thee,  our  secret 
sins  in  the  light  of  thy  countenance. 

"  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth 
from  all  sin."  Happy  is  the  man  who 
really  believes  this  truth  !  then  happiest 
of  all,  when  he  feels  its  power !  But  it 
never  lives  alone  in  any  mind.  There  are 
other  truths  which  must  be  received  and 
remembered  also,  before  the  value  of  this 
can  be  known.  The  text  is  one  of  them. 
Without  a  heart-felt  belief  of  it,  we  shall 
never  learn  a  Saviour's  worth.  We  can- 
not give  credit  to  it,  and  despise  him. 

flas  it,  brethren,  made  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  precious  to  you  ?  If  not,  be  assured 
that  you  have  never  yet  viewed  it  in  its 
true  light.  Either  you  are  ignorant  of  its 
meaning,  or  you  arc  not  heartily  convinced 
of  its  truth,  or  you  are  strangers  to  its  im- 
portance. To  these  three  points  then — its 
meaning,  its  truth,  and  its  importance — 
let  me  call  your  attention  ;  and  may  the 
Holy  Spirit  grant  that  it  may  not  be  called 
to  them  in  vain  ! 


64 


SINS  REMEMBERED  BY  GOD. 


I.  Consider  the  meaning  of  this  declara 
tion.     It  seems  to  include  two  ideas. 

1.  God  sees  our  iniquities.  They  are 
"  before  him."  When  they  are  committed, 
they  are  committed  before  his  face  ;  not  in 
his  presence  merely,  but  directly  in  his 
sight.  Fie  consequently  sees  them  dis- 
tinctly, clearly,  thoroughly.  None  of  them 
can  escape  him,  none  deceive  him. 

This  truth  the  psalmist  most  forcibly 
expresses.  He  bids  us  look  on  our  sins  as 
arrayed  "  in  the  light  of  Jehovah's  coun- 
tenance." And  who  can  tell  us  what  that 
light  is  ?  The  sun  which  is  shining  in 
the  heavens,  throws  around  us  day  by 
day  a  glorious  splendor  :  it  discovers  to  us 
more  iniquity  on  the  earth,  than  we  can 
sometimes  bear  the  sight  of  without  a  pang : 
but  what  is  the  light  of  yonder  sun,  com- 
pared with  the  brightness  of  the  Almighty's 
face  ?  It  is  utter  darkness.  And  yet  in 
the  brightness  of  that  face  are  all  our  sins 
committed,  all  seen. 

Hence  they  appear  to  God  in  their  true 
colors.  A  borrowed  light,  a  candle  or  a 
lamp,  seldom  reflects  objects  as  they  really 
are.  Nor  can  sin  be  viewed  aright,  except 
by  God  and  near  God.  Beneath  his  pier- 
cing eye,  it  is  stripped  of  all  its  poor  dis- 
guises. In  the  holiness  of  his  presence,  its 
depravity  comes  out.  Its  guilt,  its  pollu- 
tion and  baseness,  stand  naked  and  ex- 
posed. 

Suppose  'yourselves  in  some  neglected 
and  miserable  roorti.  It  is  night ;  you  see 
nothing  of  the  wretchedness  around  you. 
But  open  the  window  ;  let  the  moon  shine 
into  the  room  ;  you  begin  to  perceive  its 
misery.  After  a  while,  the  sun  rises,  dim 
and  in  clouds  ;  now  your  eyes  are  offended 
with  the  objects  that  surround  you.  But 
at  last  the  clouds  break  ;  a  ray  darts 
bright  across  the  room  ;  all  its  filthiness  is 
visible ;  you  discern  even  the  particles  of 
dust  that  are  floating  in  the  air.  And  thus 
is  it  with  sin.  AVhat  do  we  see  of  it  in  this 
dark  Morld  ?  By  nature,  nothing.  Let 
the  glimmering  light  of  civilization  and 
morals  reach  us  ;  we  catch  some  faint 
ideas  of  its  character.  Let  the  bright  sun 
of  revelation  shine  ;  it  shows  us  more  of 
its  evil.  Bring  down  the  Holy  Spirit  from 
above,  let  the  God,  who  at  first  commanded 
light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,  shine  into 
our  hearts  ;  now  the  transgressor  stands 
astonished  at  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of 
ein.     He  lays  himself  in  the  dust.      He 


I  says,  with  trembling  lips  and  a  trembling 
heart,  "  Behold,  I  am  vile."  But  what  is 
the  light  of  civilization,  or  of  scripture,  or 
even  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  a  human  breast, 
to  the  light  of  heaven  ?  What  does  the 
holiest  man  see  of  sin,  in  comparison  with 
God  ? 

2.  The  psalmist's  language  implies  also 
that  God  remembers  our  sins  ;  "  Thou  hast 
set  our  iniquities  before  thee,"  placed  them, 
fixed  them  there.  They  do  not  flit,  as  it 
were,  before  the  face  of  the  Lord,  appear 
and  vanish ;  they  stand  still  in  his  pres- 
ence, they  remain  ibrever  unmoved  and 
unaltered  in  his  sight.     It  must  be  so. 

We  say  that  we  remember  things,  when 
they  occasionally  enter  our  minds,  when  we 
recall  them  to  our  memories  at  our  will. 
But  what  the  great  God  remembers,  he 
never  forgets.  What  he  once  knows,  lie 
always  knows.  The  sin  of  Adam  is  as 
present  in  his  view  now,  as  when  that 
guilty  man  first  tasted  of  the  deadly  fruit ; 
and  it  is  the  same  wath  all  the  sins  of  all 
his  creatures.  There  never  has  been  a 
moment  in  which  any  one  of  them  has  been 
out  of  his  thoughts  :  there  never  can  be 
such  a  moment.  "  The  Lord,"  says  the 
prophet,  "  hath  sworn  by  the  excellency  ot 
Jacob,  Surely  I  will  never  forget  any  ot 
their  works." 

Such  is  the  meaning  of  the  declaration 
in  the  text.  It  is  evidently  a  very  solemn 
declaration.  It  would  be  so,  even  if  it  re- 
lated only  to  the  generations  that  are  gone, 
or  to  some  distant  world  which  we  have 
never  seen.  But  it  relates  to  us.  The 
iniquities  it  speaks  of  are  ours — the  open 
and  secret  sins  which  we  ourselves  have 
committed,  and  thus  made  our  own. 

And  what  does  it  testify  of  these  ?  It 
seems' to  recall  them  from  the  dead.  We 
had  forgotten  them.  They  had  passed 
away  from  our  memories  like  the  dreams 
of  the  night.  But  here  comes  one  of  our 
fellow-transgressors,  and  assures  us  that 
they  are  still  in  existence,  that  these  dis- 
regarded and  forgotten  things  are  now  all 
standing  in  one  fearful  mass  directly  before 
the  eyes  of  a  holy  God.  How  did  he  know 
this  ?     Are  his  'svords  true  ? 

II.  Let  us  go  on  to  inquire  what  proofs 
we  can  find  of  their  truth. 

1.  Consider  the  nature  of  (^od.  Re- 
member what  he  is.  We  are  told  that  he 
is  a  "  God  of  knowledge,"  of  boundless, 
infinite  knowledge.     And  by  infinite  know 


SINS  REMEMBERED  BY  GOD. 


65 


ledsze  is  rntant  knowlrdge  which  com- 
prehends all  things ;  which  embraces,  in 
one  and  the  same  moment,  every  thing  that 
ever  was,  or  ever  will  be,  or  ever  can  be 
known ;  knowledge  which  cannot  be  in- 
creased or  impaired.  Low  indeed  is  the 
highest  idea  we  can  form  of  such  an  un- 
derstanding as  this.  We  may  however 
see  enough  of  it  to  convince  us  that  the 
awful  saying  of  the  psalmist  must  be  true. 
Hide  but  a  single  sin  from  God,  take  it  but 
for  a  twinkling  of  an  eye  from  his  remem- 
brance, he  might  be  told  or  reminded  of  it ; 
a  pitying  angel  or  an  accusing  enemy 
might  add  to  the  number  of  his  ideas  ;  and 
where  would  his  boundless  knowledge  be  ? 

But  we  are  not  left  to  our  own  reasonings 
and  conclusions  in  this  matter. 

2.  Consider  the  declarations  of  God. 
Think  of  icliai  he  has  said. 

No  language  can  be  plainer  or  stronger, 
than  that  which  God  has  employed  in  the 
confirmation  of  this  truth.  Hear  him 
speaking  of  Babylon  the  great,  of  his  ene- 
mies in  this  wicked  world  ;  "  Her  sins  have 
reached  unto  heaven,  and  God  hath  remem- 
bered her  iniquities."  Hear  him  speaking 
of  his  friends,  of  his  church,  his  beloved 
Israel.  "  I  do  remember,"  he  says  by  one 
prophet,  "  all  their  wickedness."  "  Mine 
eyes,"  he  says  by  another,  "  are  upon  all 
their  ways  ;  they  are  not  hid  from  my 
face,  neither  is  their  iniquity  hid  from  mine 
eyes."  "  The  sinof  Judah,"  he  adds,  "  is 
written" — how  ?  not  with  a  common  pen 
on  perishable  materials,  so  written  that  it 
may  be  erased  by  accident  or  worn  out  by 
time.  No.  How  did  Job  wish  to  leave  on 
record  his  confidence  in  his  living  Redeem- 
er ?  "  O,"  he  says,  "  that  my  words  were 
now  written  !  O  that  they  were  printed  in 
a  book  !  that  they  were  graven  with  an 
iron  pen  and  lead  in  the  rock  for  ever !" 
Thus  the  Lord  declares  the  sin  of  his  people 
to  be  recorded  ;  "  It  is  written  with  a  pen 
of  iron  and  with  a  point  of  a  diamond;" 
with  instruments  which  men  employ  to 
leave  the  most  durable  inscriptions  on  the 
flinty  rock  or  imperishable  glass. 

And  these  are  not  vain  words.  The 
daily  conduct  of  God  is  in  strict  agreement 
with  them. 

3.  Consider  his  ways.  Look  at  wliat  he 
has  done. 

We  all  know  that  there  is  misery  in  the 
world,  much  misery,  deep  misery.  We 
aee  it  and  feel  it.     While  men  are  foolishly 


saying  that  "  the  Lord  regardeth  not 
iniquity,"  his  judgments  are  in  all  the 
earth  ;  they  are  often  in  our  own  families 
and  houses,  perhaps  in  our  own  bosoms. 
Go  where  we  may,  we  see  marked  on 
many  a  forehead,  "  Lamentation,  mourn- 
ing, and  wo."  And  were  it  laid  bare, 
where  is  the  breast  in  whi"eh  we  might  not 
find  concealed  an  aching  heart,  disappointed 
hopes  or  withered  joys,  some  fountain  of 
sorrow  or  root  of  bitterness  ? 

Now  whence  comes  all  this  suffiiring  ? 
Does  it  come  forth  of  the  dust  ?  Is  it  all  a 
casualty,  an  accident,  the  work  of  chance  ? 
How  is  it,  then,  that  the  chance  which  has 
broken  so  many  hearts,  has  never  yet 
made  one  completely  blessed  ?  No,  breth- 
ren ;  this  misery  is  the  work  of  a  holy  and 
offended  God.  It  springs  forth  from  those 
iniquities  which  lie  has  set  before  liiin. 

This  was  evidently  the  feeling  of  the 
psalmist.  Mark  where  he  has  placed  this 
text.  It  stands  in  the  midst  of  a  touching 
complaint  over  human  vanity  and  human 
misery.  "  We  are  consumed,"  he  says, 
"  by  thine  anger ;  by  thy  wrath  are  we 
troubled."  And  why?  "Thou  hast  set 
our  iniquities  before  thee."  And  how  did 
he  know  they  were  set  there  ?  He  imme- 
diately tells  us;  "For  all  our  days  are 
passed  away  in  thy  wrath :  we  spend  our 
years  as  a  tale." 

Sometimes  also  the  Lord  steps  out  of  his 
ordinary  path,  as  though  determined  that 
)ncn  should  see  and  confess  his  remem- 
brance of  their  sins.  Why  were  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah  destroyed  1  'Why  were  the 
Amalekites  driven  out  of  the  land  of  their 
fathers  1  Why  did  the  nations  of  Canaan 
perish  1  One  answer  will  serve  for  all — 
the  eyes  of  an  insulted  God  were  fastened 
on  their  crimes. 

And  look  into  his  church.  How  has  he 
acted  there  ?  Let  the  dying  Moses  say. 
Let  the  weeping  David  declare.  And 
what  will  Jacob  tell  us  ?  That  man  was 
exceedingly  dear  to  God,  chosen  and  belov- 
ed ;  but  while  he  was  yet  young,  he  sinned 
against  him  ;  he  deceived  his  aged  fatlier. 
From  that  moment  the  Lord  never  forgot 
his  sin.  He  began  by  banishing  him  from 
his  country  and  his  home.  Then  for  seven 
years  all  seems  quiet;  but  at  the  end  of  these 
years,  Jacob,  in  his  turn,  is  deceived. 
Laban  imposes  on  him.  Instead  of  giving 
him  the  beloved  Rachel  for  whom  he  had 
waited  so  long  and  toiled  so  hard,  he  gave 


66 


SINS  REMEMBERED  BY  GOD. 


him  Leah.  "Year  after  year  passes  away, 
and  the  iniquity  of  Jacob  seems  forgotten. 
Rachel  is  his  own,  his  children  rise  up 
and  call  him  blessed,  his  flocks  and  herds 
are  increased,  his  brother  Esau  is  recon- 
ciled to  him  ;  and  where  is  his  iniquity 
now  ?  Where  it  was  at  first.  Suffering 
has  not  removed  it ;  years  have  not  worn 
it  out.  It  is  before  the  Lord.  His  daugh- 
ter is  shamefully  defiled,  and  his  two  sons, 
Simeon  and  Levi,  m  avenging  her  wrongs, 
act  more  like  assassins  than  men.  Surely 
now  the  displeasure  of  heaven  is  past.  No, 
brethren ;  that  which  took  place  in  the 
chamber  of  Isaac,  is  present  as  ever  before 
the  face  of  a  jealous  God.  There  are 
yet  arrows  in  his  quiver  for  Jacob's  heart. 
Now  Rachel  dies,  and  now  Joseph,  his  fa- 
vorite boy,  is  lost.  True,  he  finds  him 
again,  but  what  a  pang  for  a  father's  soul 
mars  his  joy !  Tiie  old  patriarch  learns 
that  ten  of  his  other  sons  were  little  better 
than  guilty  of  their  brother's  blood. 

And  is  it  not  tlie  same  in  the  present 
day  ?  Why  is  the  city,  once  the  joy  and 
dwelling-place  of  Jehovah,  trodden  down  of 
the  heathen  '?  Why  are  the  Jews  wander- 
ing as  outcasts  among  the  nations  ?  Nearly 
two  thousand  years  ago,  the  Lord  of  glory 
was  crucified  in  their  streets.  "  His  blood 
be  on  us  and  on  our  children,"  was  the 
hori'id  cry  of  their  fathers.  It  reached  the 
heavens.  It  still  rings  in  the  ears  of  the 
Lord  of  hosts.  The  blood  of  the  Son  of 
God  is  on  their  children. 

Take  an  instance  from  common  life.  A 
nnan  is  dishonest.  By  overreaching  his 
neighbors,  by  defrauding  his  country,  or 
by  some  other  unlawful  means,  he  acquires 
property;  he  enriches  his  children.  But 
how  often  does  such  wealth  come  speedily 
to  an  end  !  The  curse  of  God  seems  on  it. 
It  wastes  away.  In  a  few  years,  its  own- 
ers are  poor  as  the  poorest,  are  beggars  in 
our  sight. 

Take  yet  one  instance  more.  Look  on  a 
graceless  son.  In  the  days  of  his  youth, 
he  plants  many  a  sting  in  liis  father's  soul, 
and  breaks  his  mother's  heart.  He  goes 
on  quietly  for  a  while,  and  prospers.  But 
he  himself  becomes  a  fatlier,  and  then  the 
Lord  reveals  himself  as  a  sin-remembering 
and  sin-avenging  God.  His  own  children 
fly  in  his  face.  Their  conduct  forces  his 
mind  back  to  the  long-forgott(Mi  scenes  of 
his  own  early  wickedness.  He  remembers 
a  father  and  a  mother  whom  his  own  vices 


stung,  and  then,  like  them,  he  goes  down 
with  sorrow  to  the  grave. 

O  brethren,  who  can  tell  what  judgments 
are  hanging  over  some  of  us,  for  iniquities 
which  we  long  since  thought  forgotten  for- 
ever ?  Who  can  tell  how  many  hours  of 
future  bitterness  some  secret  sin  of  the  last 
week  or  month  may  have  stored  up  for  us  ? 
Who,  as  he  thinks  on  these  things,  will  not 
fly  to  a  Saviour's  cross,  and  say  there, 
with  the  trembling  psalmist,  "  O  remember 
not  the  sins  of  my  youth  !  O  remember 
not  against  us  our  former  iniquities  !" 

Now,  putting  together  what  the  great 
God  is,  what  he  has  said,  and  what  he  has 
done,  there  is  no  escaping  from  this  con- 
clusion— our  sins  are  seen,  they  are  re- 
membered— the  declaration  in  this  text  is 
true. 

But  what  if  it  is  true  ?  Is  it  important  ? 
Or  if  important,  is  it  so  to  us  ?  It  is. 
There  is  no  truth  that  ever  reached  our 
ears,  which  can  concern  us  more  closely, 
or  afiect  our  best  interests  more  deeply. 

III.  Let  us  now  endeavor  to  discover  its 
importance. 

Of  this  we  can  know  but  little.  It  is 
not  fully  understood  even  in  the  regions 
beyond  the  grave,  those  worlds  of  discovery 
and  knowledge.  Nothing  but  eternity  can 
unfold  it  all.  We  may  however  obtain  a 
faint  idea  of  its  greatness,  by  recollecting 
the  purposes  for  which  God  thus  holds  our 
sins  in  his  remembrance. 

1.  He  keeps  them  there,  that  he  may 
eventually  set  them  before  us. 

We  are  all  conscious  that  many  things 
live  in  our  memories,  of  which  we  seldom 
or  never  think.  When  told  of  them,  we 
recollect  them,  and  perhaps  a  long  train  of 
circumstances  connected  with  them.  This 
common  operation  of  the  memory  may  dis- 
cover to  us,  that  at  present  we  know  but 
little  of  its  powers.  It  was  designed  to  hold 
fast  every  idea  that  has  ever  passed  through 
our  minds.  It  once  probably  had  this 
power  ;  sooner  or  later,  it  will  have  it 
again.  And  then  where  will  our  sins  be  ? 
Tliey  will  rise,  like  ghosts,  from  the  dead. 
They  will  be  where  the  guilt  of  David  was, 
when  he  said,  "  My  sin  is  ever  before  me." 
They  will  be  where  the  transgressions  of 
the  people  of  Jerusalem  were,  when,  prick- 
ed in  their  heart,  they  cried  out,  "  Men 
and  brethren,  what  shall  we  do  ?"  They 
will  be  where  Cain's  foul  oflcnce  was,  wh^n 
he  said,  "  My  punishment  is  greater  than 


SINS  REMEMBERED  BY  GOD. 


67 


I  can  bear."  They  will  be  where  the 
sill  of  Judas  was,  wlien  "  he  went  and 
hanged  liimsclf.''"  They  will  be  before 
our  eyes  ;  they  will  be  rankling  in  our 
hearts.  And  it  is  God  who  will  place  them 
there.  He  touches  the  guilty  conscience  ; 
lie  sets  tormenting  memory  to  work  ;  and 
then  our  iniquities  array  themselves  in  ter- 
ror before  us.  They  lie,  heavy  as  a  moun- 
tain of  lead,  upon  the  conscience  ;  they 
stick,  like  arrows,  in  the  soul. 

The  anguish  which  they  give,  even  when 
we  are  partially  reminded  of  them  in  this 
life,  is  almost  intolerable.  It  forced  Paul, 
who  complained  of  nothing  else,  to  com- 
plain of  liis  wretchedness.  In  the  world 
to  come,  it  will  be  ten-fold  worse — terrify- 
ing, maddening,  an  ever-gnawing  worm,  a 
devouring  fire,  au  everlasting  burning. 

2.  Others  also  will  know  our  sins.  The 
Lord  remembers  them  io  expose  them.  He 
generally  lays  some  of  them  bare  before 
we  die.  Others  often  come  to  the  light  af- 
ter we  are  dead.  But  what  is  this  ?  No 
more,  when  compared  with  the  exposure  of 
the  great  day,  than  the  gleam  of  a  taper  to 
the  Ijlaze  of  a  meridian  sun  ;  no  more  than 
a  whisper  to  the  thunder  of  the  clouds. 
There  is  reason  to  believe  that  not  a  soul 
in  the  universe  will  be  left  ignorant  of  any 
one  of  our  sins.  Those  of  the  ungodly 
will  be  revealed,  that  the  justice  of  God 
may  be  magnified  in  their  condemnation. 
Those  of  the  pardoned  will  be  proclaimed, 
that  assembled  worlds  may  adore  the  riches 
of  Jehovah's  grace. 

Who  can  conceive  aright  of  the  dark 
mountains  of  iniquity  which  we  shall  then 
see  arise  ?  Were  the  secret  sins  that  we 
ourselves  have  committed,  now  exposed, 
what  a  scene  of  wonder  would  this  clmrch 
become  !  And  O  what  a  loathsome  world 
would  the  earth  appear,  if  all  that  is  now 
going  on  in  secret,  were  brought  out  be- 
fore the  light !  But  when  we  are' standing 
before  the  Son  of  man,  no  .secrets  will  be 
hidden  ;  all  the  sins  of  all  the  world  will 
rise  up,  in  all  their  dreadful  magnitude, 
before  us;  they  will  astonish  and  dismay  us. 

3.  But  God  remembers  our  sins  for  a 
purpose  yet  more  awful  still — that  he  may 
call  us  to  a  strict  account  for  them.  This 
Jeremiah  teaches  us.  "  Tliine  eyes,"  he 
says,  "  are  open  upon  all  tlie  ways  of  the 
sons  of  men  ;"  and  fir  this  purpose,  "  to 
give  every  one  according  to  his  ways,  and 
according  to  the  fruit  of  his  doings." 


God,  it  is  often  said,  "  will  judge  the 
world  in  righteousness."  "  Me  will  re- 
ward every  man  according  to  his  works." 
Now  how  can  he  do  this  unless  he  sets 
before  him  all  our  sins  ?  A  loose  and 
general  estimate  of  them  must  not  guide 
the  sentence  which  will  afiect  an  inniiortal 
soul  throughout  eternity.  The  account 
must  be  strict  and  minute.  We  are  ac- 
cordingly told  that  God  "  shall  bring  every 
work  into  judgment,  with  every  secret 
thing."  "  Every  idle  word,"  says  Christ, 
"  that  men  shall  speak,  they  shall  give  ac- 
count thereof  in  the  day  of  judgment." 
"  The  Lord,"  says  Paul,  "  will  bring  to 
light  the  hidden  things  of  darkness,  and 
will  make  manifest  the  counsels  of  the 
heart."  He  will  force  from  our  own  lips 
a  faithful  record  of  every  crime  we  have 
committed  ;  he  himself  will  display  a  re- 
gister of  every  sin.  And  then,  unless  we 
can  say  of  a  Redeemer's  blood,  "  It  has 
cleansed  me  ;"  and  of  a  holy  Saviour's 
justifying  righteousness,  "  It  is  mine  ;"  ev- 
ery iniquity  shall  add  to  our  condemnation, 
every  tran.sgression  shall  have  its  sting. 

And  now,  brethren,  judge  for  yourselves 
— are  these  things  matters  of  importance, 
or  are  they  trifles  ?  If  there  be  any  thing 
hard  to  bear  in  the  workings  of  an  awa- 
kened conscience,  if  public  exposure  and 
shame  be  worthy  of  a  thought,  if  we  ap- 
prehend any  serious  consequences  from  the 
judgment  of  the  living  God,  then  the  decla- 
ration in  the  text  is  not  a  light  and  trifling 
saying  ;  it  is  of  tremendous  importance  to 
us  all. 

Have  you  any  sense  of  its  importance  ? 
There  is  perhaps  hardly  one  among  you, 
who  is  not  ready  to  answer.  Yes.  You 
say,  "  We  are  sure  that  we  have  never 
made  light  of  this  truth.  We  never  speak 
of  it  but  with  the  greatest  seriousness. 
Sometimes  when  we  liave  heard  it  read  at 
the  funeral  of  a  friend,  it  has  almost  made 
us  tremble."  And  is  this  all  it  has  done 
within  you  and  for  you  ?  Then  may  the 
living  God  complain  of  you,  as  he  did  of 
Israel  of  old,  "  They  consider  not  in  their 
hearts,  that  I  do  remember  all  their  wick- 
edness." He  does  not  say  that  they  dis- 
believed it,  or  despised  it,  or  even  forgot  it. 
All  he  complains  of  is,  that  it  had  no  fi^cd 
place  in  their  hearts.  And  what  place  has 
it  in  yours  ?  None.  You  have  never  even 
wished  it  to  have  any  ;  amid  a  crowd  of 
other  things,  you  have  lost  sight  of  it.     Per- 


68 


SINS  REMEMBERED  BY  GOD. 


haps  throughout  your  whole  life,  you  have 
never  spent  a  single  hour,  no,  nor  a  single 
minute,  with  your  thoughts  taken  up  with 
this  truth,  "  The  great  God  sees  and  re- 
members my  sins." 

This  inconsidcration  cannot  end  well.  It 
may  seem  a  very  harmless  thing,  but,  all 
this  while,  it  is  hardening  your  hearts,  and 
bringing  on  your  ruin.  What  is  it  that 
has  made  many  a  death-bed  so  wretched, 
and  filled  eternity  with  so  much  wo  ?  It 
is  nothing  more  than  this  inconsidcration 
of  which  you  are  guilty,  this  thoughtless- 
ness, this  deadly  unconcern.  It  never  lasts 
longer  than  life.  When  eternity  begins, 
reflection  begins  ;  and  such  reflection  !  so 
bitter,  so  harrowing,  that  existence  becomes 
an  intolerable  curse.  O  brethren,  what 
will  you  do,  when  you  ask  of  a  God  of 
mercy  only  one  drop  of  water  to  cool  your 
tongue,  and  all  you  gain  by  your  prayer 
is  this  piercing  answer,  "  Son,  remember, 
remember  !" 

Does  this  prospect  alarm  you  ?  Then 
let  this  scripture  show  you  your  great  need 
of  Christ. 

Give  an  angel  all  that  the  universe  con- 
tains, he  would  not  consent  to  have  one 
sin  before  the  eyes  of  God.  Nay,  offer  to 
the  poorest  Christian  all  the  collected  riches 
of  the  earth  to  have  one  unpardoned  ini- 
quity there,  the  man  would  shudder  at  the 
thought.  But  how  many  unpardoned  sins 
have  some  of  you  in  that  holy  place  ?  Ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand.  How  can 
you  bear  to  think  of  them  ?  How  can  you 
sit  here  in  peace  ?  How  can  you  lie  down 
at  night  in  peace  1  The  recollection  is 
fearful  now,  but  what  will  it  be  when  con- 
science begins  to  sting,  and  shame  begins 
to  cover  us,  and  judgment  is  at  hand  ?  O 
shall  we  not  need  a  Helper  and  a  Saviour 
then  1     Do  we  not  need  one  now  ? 

Learn  then,  from  this  truth,  to  admire 
the  riches  of  Jehovah\s  mercy.  When  we 
hear  of  the  pardon  of  sin,  we  often  think  of 
it  as  the  pardon  of  our  late  transgressions 
only.  We  forget  our  earlier  sins.  But 
God  never  offers  us  forgiveness  without 
having  in  his  mind  every  one  of  our  ini- 
quities. They  are  all  before  him.  They 
are  all  as  fresh  in  his  memory  and  as 
hateful  in  his  sight  as  the  sins  of  yester- 
day, or  the  transgressions  of  the  present 
hour. 

Try  then  to  view  3'our  sins  in  a  mass,  as 
God  views  them.     Suppose  all  of  them  to 


have  been  crowded  into  one  day  ;  suppose 
this  very  sabbath  to  be  that  guilty  day  ; 
what  think  you  of  yourselves  ?  Do  you 
not  say,  "  We  are  more  sinful,  more 
abominable,  than  tongue  can  tell  ?"  What 
then  must  God  think  of  you  ?  .  At  this  very 
moment,  the  long  and  dark  catalogue  of 
your  crimes  is  before  his  face,  and  he  looks 
on  the  first  and  last  of  them  alike,  just  as 
though  neither  of  them  were  an  hour  old. 
And  yet  how  does  he  act  towards  you  ? 
Instead  of  sending  you  quick  into  hell,  he 
opens  wide  for  you  the  gate  of  heaven.  He 
holds  out  before  you  the  dreadful  scroll  of 
your  sins,  and  while  you  are  trembling  at 
the  sight,  and  his  violated  law  is  thunder- 
ing vengeance,  he  points  to  the  cross  of  his 
dear  Son,  and  says,  "  Behold  the  Lamb  of 
God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world."  And  what  is  the  language  of 
that  bleeding  Lamb  ?  "  Look  unto  me, 
and  be  ye  saved,  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth." 
Nay,  so  complete  and  lasting  is  the  pardon 
he  offers  you,  that  he  speaks  of  it  as  though 
in  conferring  it  he  had  laid  aside  one  of  his 
own  perfections.  He  says  to  every  sinner 
whom  he  finds  washed  in  the  blood  and 
clothed  in  the  righteousness  of  his  Son,  and 
says  it  of  the  very  sins  which  are  ever  in 
his  sight,  "  I,  even  I,  am  he  that  blotteth 
out  thy  transgressions  for  mine  own  sake, 
and  will  not  remember  thy  sins." 

Flave  you  through  grace  sought  and 
found  this  mercy  ?  Let  this  declaration 
teach  you  to  live  in  a  constant  remembrance 
of  your  sins.  You  see,  brethren,  the  char- 
acter which  the  author  of  this  psalm  as- 
sumes— it  is  the  character  which  you  your- 
selves long  bore — that  of  a  transgressor,  a 
sinner.  And  do  you  not  bear  it  now  ? 
One  look  within  shows  you  that  it  is  still 
your  own.  And  can  you  forget  the  sins 
which  so  holy  an  eye  beholds,  and  such 
amazing  grace  pardons  ?  Ought  you  to 
forget  them  ?  Never.  The  instant  you 
lose  sight  of  them,  or  of  the  divine  remem- 
brance of  them,  you  sin  against  God  and 
wrong  your  own  souls  ;  you  throw  a  veil 
over  the  glory  of  Jehovah's  mercy  ;  you 
place  yourselves  on  ground  whereon  no 
child  of  the  dust  can  ever  stand  ;  you 
close  your  hearts  against  the  sweetest  joys 
that  a  sinner  can  ever  know.  Who  is  the 
happiest  being  on  the  earth  ?  Not  the  man 
who  says  he  is  in  Christ,  and  will  think  of 
his  sins  no  more.  It  is  he  who  looks  on  all 
his  manifold  and  great  transgressions,  and 


SINS  BLOTTED  OUT  BY  GOD. 


09 


while  he  loathes  himself  on  account  of 
tliem,  can  lay  himself  in  the  dust  and  say, 
"  I  am  pardoned."  This  recollection  melts 
him.  It  fdls  his  heart  with  unutterable 
love  for  his  dying  Lord  ;  it  makes  his  very 
name  precious  to  his  soul.  It  abases  him 
so  low,  that  when  he  is  taken  up  into  heav- 
en, angels  can  scarcely  bend  down  to  his 
humility.  It  lifts  him  so  high,  that  they 
cannot  reach  his  blessedness.  Whether  in 
heaven  or  in  earth,  this  is  the  character 
and  this  the  happiness  of  the  Christian — he 
is  a  pardoned  smner — he  feels  and  acts  as 
a  pardoned  sinner — he  is  a  man  "  who 
loveth  much,"  because  he  sees  that  "much 
has  been  forgiven  him." 


SERMON    XIII. 

SINS  BLOTTED  OUT  BY  GOD. 

Isaiah  xliii.  25. 

/,  even  J,  am  he  that  blotteth  out  thy  transgres- 
sions for  mine  own  sake,  and  will  not  remember 
thy  sins. 

The  world,  brethren,  was  once  a  para- 
dise :  it  is  now  a  prison  ;  and  we  who  live 
and  move  in  it,  are  criminals  in  the  liands 
of  justice,  and  liable  every  hour  to  be  call- 
ed to  our  trial  and  execution.  It  is  clear, 
then,  that  of  all  the  blessings  we  ever  heard 
of,  pardon  is  that  which  we  most  need.  In 
comparison  with  it,  none  other  is  worthy 
of  a  single  thought.  But  where  shall  we 
look  for  it  ?  Here  in  this  text  comes  one 
proclaiming  a  pardon,  and  almost  laying 
it  at  our  feet. 

Who  then  is  he  ?  Let  this  be  our  first 
inquiry.  What  is  the  nature  of  the  par- 
don he  brings  ?  Let  this  be  our  second. 
What  is  the  motive  which  leads  hun  to  offer 
it  to  us  ?  We  must  take  this  as  our  third. 
How  shall  we  act  with  respect  to  it  ?  Let 
this  be  our  last. 

I.  No  tidings  can  be  more  welcome  than 
those  which  are  here  published,  none  more 
joyful  ;  but  loho  is  he  thai  hn'mr.s  vs  this 
offer  of  forgiveness  ?  On  this  point  de- 
pends all  the  value  of  his  news.  He  him- 
self seems  aware  of  its  importance,  for  he 
evidently  wishes  to  turn  on  himself  our  no- 
tice  and  inquiry.  He  speaks  too  as  though 
he  could  quiet  our  most  anxious  suspicions. 


as  though  he  were  sure  that  a  pardon  com. 
ing  from  him  would  leave  us  notliing  to 
fear  or  desire. 

He  can  be  no  fellow-mortal,  then,  who 
speaks  thus  ;  no  prophet  or  angel.  All 
the  strength  of  men  and  angels  could  no 
more  blot  out  such  sins  as  ours,  than  it 
could  drive  the  midnight  shades  from  the 
sky.  It  is  the  great  God  himself,  who  un- 
dertakes this  work.  It  is  the  Holy  One 
of  eternity,  who  comes  among  us  and  says, 
"  I,  even  I,  am  he  that  blotteth  out  thy 
transgressions." 

There  is  more  in  this  assurance  than  a 
mere  glance  can  discover. 

1.  He  who  thus  offers  us  pardon,  is  Ihe 
Being  whom  our  sins  have  most  dii pleased. 

We  know  how  offensive  iniquity  some- 
times is  even  to  our  own  minds.  It  has 
often  caused  us  to  shudder  as  we  have  wit- 
nessed it.  But  our  abhorrence  of  sin  is  as 
nothing.  Would  you  pull  down  a  house, 
because  a  sinner  had  entered  it  ?  Would 
you  lay  waste  a  garden  or  a  field,  because 
it  had  been  the  scene  of  a  crime  ?  But 
mark  the  conduct  of  God.  He  built  the 
world.  When  he  had  made  it,  ho  called 
it  good.  It  is  an  immense  world,  a  lovely 
world,  a  glorious  monument  of  power  and 
goodness.  But  sinners  have  trodden  on 
it ; — that  is  enough — it  is  accursed  in  the 
sight  of  God  ;  he  will  soon  sweep  it  from 
the  heavens. 

None  but  God  can  tell  how  God  loathes 
iniquity.  It  is  "  that  abominable  thing 
which  he  hates."  It  is  the  only  thing 
which  he  hates  ;  the  only  thing,  on  earth 
or  in  hell,  which  can  excite  in  him  one 
moment's  displeasure.  Yet  with  the  ob- 
jects of  his  abhorrence  full  before  him, 
with  all  our  sins  blazoned  before  his  face, 
he  says,  "  I,  even  I,  am  he  tliat  blotteth  out 
thy  transgressions." 

2.  He  is  a /so  the  Being  whom  our  sins 
have  most  injured.  I  speak  after  the  man- 
ner of  men  ;  or  rather  after  the  manner  of 
God,  for  he  himself  speaks  of  sin  as  an  in- 
jury done  to  him.  "  Will  a  man  rob 
God  ?"  he  says  ;  "  yet  ye  have  robbed 
me."  And  well  may  he  say  so.  None  of 
us  have  given  God  his  due.  Of  tliat  debt 
which,  as  creatures  and  sinners,  we  owe 
him,  we  have  not  paid  him  one  mite.  On 
the  contrary,  we  have  been  employed,  every 
moment  of  our  existence,  in  returning  him 
evil  for  good.  No  man  ever  injured  man, 
as  we  have  injured  God.     He  who  brings 


70 


SINS  BLOTTED  OUT  BY  GOD. 


us  these  tidings,  is  the  most  outraged  Be- 
ing in  the  universe  ;  one  whose  name  we 
have  profaned,  whose  authority  we  have 
trampled  on,  whose  glory  we  have  stained, 
whose  displeasure  at  our  foul  offences  we 
have  mocked  at,  and — worst  of  all,  that 
which  robs  him  more  than  all  other  wrongs 
— whose  amazing  mercy  we  have  despised. 

Here  then  are  two  great  points  gained. 
The  sinner,  however,  must  have  more.  If 
I  enter  my  neighbor's  house  and  rob  him 
of  his  property,  he  may  forgive  me  the 
wrong  ;  and  when  I  return  home,  my  family 
and  connections,  whom  my  conduct  has 
grieved,  may  pardon  me.  But  I  am  not 
yet  safe.  The  officers  of  justice  are  in 
pursuit  of  me  ;  the  laws  of  my  country 
must  be  satisfied  ;  nothing  short  of  my 
sovereign's  pardon  can  save  me. 

Thus  the  dying  Stephen  reasoned.  The 
savage  Jews  were  stoning  him.  He  was 
the  party  injured  by  their  violence,  and  he 
forgave  them.  But  what  was  his  pardon 
worth  ?  They  had  a  King  reigning  above  ; 
they  had  broken  his  laws.  "  With  a  loud 
voice"  therefore  the  martyred  saint  cries 
to  him  for  mercy  for  them  ;  "  Lord,  lay 
not  this  sin  to  their  charge." 

3.  He  then  who  is  here  represented  as 
blotting  out  our  sins,  is  our  King,  the  very 
Being  whose  laws  we  have  hroken. 

We  must  not  consider  God,  when  we 
sin  against  him,  merely  as  an  injured  or 
offended  Father.  He  is  the  Monarch  of 
the  world,  its  Lawgiver  and  Sovereign. 
There  is  none  above  him,  none  equal  to 
him.  It  follows,  therefore,  that  if  he  par- 
dons, none  can  condemn.  He  made  the 
law  ;  I  have  broken  it,  and  it  condemns 
me  ;  but  he  sets  me  free,  and  I  am  safe. 

4.  But  our  final  trial  is  not  yet  past. 
And  what  if  it  is  not  ?  He  who  brings  us 
these  tidings  of  mercy,  is  none  other  than 
the  Being  who  idll  he  our  Judge. 

This  is  not  an  unimportant  point.  A 
king  may  determine  to  pardon  a  criminal, 
and  may  promise  him  a  pardon  ;  but  the 
judge  appears ;  the  prisoners  are  sum- 
moned before  him  ;  the  guilty  man  is 
condemned  ;  he  i)leads  his  sovereign's 
promise  ;  but  what  does  this  avail  ?  The 
judge  knows  nothing  of  it  ;  he  leaves  him 
to  suffer,  and  he  dies.  Not  so  however 
the  man  whom  the  King  of  heaven  par- 
dons. He  is  called  on  1o  meet  his  .Judge  ; 
and  such  a  Judge  !  so  awful,  so  terrible  in 
his  greatness,  that  the  earth  and  the  heav- 


ens flee  away  before  his  face.  The  as 
tonished  man  lifts  up  his  inquiring  eyes  to 
the  throne  before  him  ;  and  whom  does  he 
see  on  it  ?  No  enemy,  no  stranger,  no 
minister  of  vengeance.  He  sees,  with  un- 
utterable joy,  his  own  gracious  King,  the 
Son  of  man,  the  very  Being  who  said  to  him 
in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  "  I,  even  I,  am  he 
that  blotteth  out  thy  transgressions."  How 
then  can  he  fear  1  The  tribunal  of  justice 
is  changed  to  a  throne  of  grace.  The  Judge 
who  sits  on  that  throne,  is  the  Saviour  of 
his  soul,  the  very  Jesus  who  once  hung  on 
a  cross  to  atone  for  his  crimes. 

On  this  head  then  the  most  fearful  may 
be  satisfied.  If  he  offers  us  pardon,  whom 
we  have  most  displeased  and  most  injured, 
who  is  our  Monarch  and  will  be  our  Judge, 
let  the  whole  world  condemn,  it  cannot 
harm  us.     Every  hair  of  our  head  is  safe. 

II.  But  what  kind  of  pardon   does  he 
offer  ?     Just  such  a  pardon  as  our  lost  situ-  , 
ation  requires  ;  just  such  a  pardon  as  be- 
comes the  Lord  of  the  universe  to  give. 
Consider  its  nature. 

It  is  expressed  in  the  text  by  the  "  blot- 
ting out  of  transgressions,"  and  the  "  not 
remembering  of  sins."  Now  one  of  the 
first  thoughts  that  enter  the  mind,  is  a  sus- 
picion of  some  contradiction  between  this 
language  and  that  which  God  sometimes 
employs  when  speaking  of  sin,  even  of  the 
sin  he  has  pardoned.  We  read  here  of 
his  ceasing  to  remember  it.  He  describes 
it,  in  other  places,  as  being  ever  before 
him,  fixed  in  the  light  of  his  countenance  ; 
he  swears  that  he  will  never  forget  it.  And 
we  know  that  his  words  are  true.  A  God 
of  infinite  knowledge  must  see  all  things 
and  rememiber  all  things — every  leaf  of 
the  woods  that  has  withered  and  dropped  ; 
much  more  the  transgressions  of  the  chil- 
dren of  men.  How  then  can  these  decla- 
rations be  reconciled  ?     Only  in  one  way. 

When  God  speaks  of  remembering  sin, 
the  sin  of  his  people,  he  alludes  to  the  moral 
guilt,  the  turpitude  or  demerit,  of  it.  This 
is,  in  its  own  nature,  as  eternal  as  himself. 
When  he  speaks  of  blotting  out  sin  and 
forgetting  sin,  he  speaks  of  its  legal  guilt, 
its  sentence,  its  curse,  the  wo  denounced 
against  it.  This  is  done  away  with  when 
the  soul  turns  itself  to  Christ.  It  ceases 
to  exist.     It  is  remembered  no  more. 

Peter  denied  his  Master.  The  baseness 
of  his  conduct,  his  oaths  and  curses,  are  re- 
membered on  earth  and  in  heaven.     But 


SINS  BLOTTED  OUT  BY  GOD. 


71 


where  is  the  punishment  of  his  sin  ?  Where 
is  tlie  vengeance  it  merited  ?  It  is  out  of 
existence.  For  seventeen  hundred  years, 
the  man  has  not  shed  a  tear  nor  felt  a  pang. 

The  sum  of  tiie  whole  is  this — pardon 
leaves  the  desert  of  condemnation  where  it 
finds  it,  on  the  head  of  the  transgressor, 
while  it  frees  him  from  condemnation  itself. 

1.  The  pardon  then  which  is  here  pro- 
claimed, is  a  remission  of  punishment,  and 
it  is  a  full,  complete  remission. 
,  Here  many  a  guilty  conscience  hesitates. 
"  O  were  it  not  for  a  few  heinous  sins," 
says  one  transgressor,  "  I  would  sue  for  a 
pardon.  \Ycvq  my  iniquities  the  common 
frailties  of  my  brethren,  numerous  as  they 
might  be,  I  would  plead  and  hope  for  for- 
giveness. But  the  crimes  of  that  one  dark 
hour,  the  transuressions  of  that  dreadful 
year! — they  are" too  black  to  be  covered." 
"  The  multitude  of  my  sins  dismays  me," 
says  another.  But  look  at  this  procla- 
mation. It  shows  us  God  blotting  out 
transgressions  and  sins.  He  means  all 
transgressions,  all  sins;  sins  as  great  as 
IManasseh's,  and  as  numerous  as  David's  ; 
most  certainly  as  numerous  and  great,  as 
those  of  the  guiltiest  of  the  people  to  whom 
he  is  speaking.  His  words  were  otherwise 
a  mockery  of  them.  He  pardons  them  by 
blotting  them  out;  and  what  is  that?  It 
supposes  them  written  and  recorded  in  tlie 
book  of  his  remembrance  ;  and  cannot  the 
hand  which  can  touch  that  awful  record, 
cross  out  a  thousand  debts  as  well  as  one  ? 
Cannot  the  debt  for  a  thousand  talents  be 
erased  as  easily  as  though  it  were  for  ten  1 

Turn  to  another  declaration.  Look  at 
two  clouds  as  they  rise  in  the  heavens. 
One  is  a  blot  on  the  sky,  dark  and  huge; 
the  other  is  scarcely  visible,  a  light  fleecy 
thing.  We  can  remove  neither.  God  can 
remove  both.  But  which  the  most  easily? 
We  are  ready  to  say,  the  lightest.  That 
cloud  then  shall  not  be  first  mentioned  as 
an  emblem  of  Israel's  sins.  Look  at  the 
other.  A  breath  which  you  neither  hear 
nor  feel  takes  it.  Though  heavy  and 
threatening,  it  passes  over  the  mountains 
and  is  gone.  And  its  light  companion 
follows  it ;  the  .sky  is  clear.  Now  hear  the 
voice  of  Israel's  God  ;  now  learn  the  extent 
of  his  pardoning  mercy;  "I  have  blotted 
out,  as  a  thick  cloud,  thy  transgressions, 
and  as  a  cloud,  thy  sins." 

The  fact  is,  brethren,  that  the  grace  of 
Gt)d  can  as  easily  triumph  over  many  and 


great  sins,  as  over  few  and  comparatively 
light  iniquities.  Ample  provision  is  made 
m  the  everlasting  covenant  for  the  greatest 
possible  enormities  of  every  humbled  sinner. 
Hence  no  partial  forgiveness  is  ever  offered 
us.  If  we  are  justified  at  all,  it  is  "from 
all  things."  God  has  no  other  pardon  to 
bestow.  No  other  would  save  us.  One 
uncancelled  sin  would  prove  our  ruin. 

2.  There  may  be  lingering  in  some  mind 
yet  another  fear.  "I  believe,"  says  the 
stricken  penitent,  "the  fulness  and  extent 
of  Jehovah's  mercy.  Vile  as  my  past 
transgressions  have  been,  the  blood  of  Christ, 
I  trust,  has  cleansed  ine  from  them.  But 
am  I  not  a  transgressor  still?  And  may 
not  this  rebellious  heart  of  mine  provoke  the 
Lord,  before  I  die,  to  withdraw  the  pardon 
he  has  given  me?"  Never.  The  forgive- 
ness which  God  bestows,  is  an  eternal,  as 
well  as  a  complete  pardon  ;  "  I,  even  I,  am 
he  that  blotteth  out  thy  transgressions;" 
"  blotteth  them  out,"  as  a  creditor  blots  out 
from  his  book  an  enormous  debt.  He  does 
not  let  the  debt  stand  over  for  a  time ;  he 
makes  it  void,  he  looks  on  it  as  paid. 

And  if  this  be  not  enough,  the  Lord 
speaks  yet  again.  And  O  what  sounds  of 
mercy  come  from  his  lips !  He  whose 
memory  retains  every  sin  we  have  com- 
mitted, more  surely  and  firmly  than  a 
sculptured  rock  or  leaves  of  brass,  the  great, 
the  infinite  God,  declares  to  his  guilty 
Israel,  "  I  will  not  remember  thy  sins." 
What  can  this  language  mean  ?  It  means, 
brethren,  that  the  sins  which  Jehovah 
pardons,  are  no  more  to  him  when  he  sits 
in  judgment,  than  as  though  he  had  never 
seen  them.  It  means  tliat  the  guiltiest  of 
you,  if  washed  in  the  Saviour's  blood,  are 
as  safe,  as  secure  from  condemnation,  as 
though  you  had  never  been  stained  by  one 
transgression.  It  is  not  a  respite  of  which 
the  Lord  here  tells  you  ;  it  is  an  acquittal, 
a  full  and  eternal  discharge.  It  is  more. 
It  is  an  act  of  oblivion.  It  is  the  casting 
of  your  sins  into  "the  depths  of  the  sea." 
It  is  like  the  passing  of  the  ocean  over  a 
record  on  sand — the  writing  is  gone,  it  can 
never  be  recalled. 

Is  this  language  too  bold  ?  Then  let 
God  himself  explain  his  mercy.  "  In  those 
days  and  in  that  time,  saith  the  Lord,  the 
iniquity  of  Israel  shall  be  sought  for,  and 
there  shall  be  none ;  and  the  sinsof  Judah, 
and  they  shall  not  be  found  ;" — and  why  ? 
"  for  I  will  pardon  them." 


72 


SINS  BLOTTED  OUT  BY  GOD. 


3.  But  when  is  this  great  pardon  given  ? 
Now  ;  the  very  moment  when  grace  brings 
the  sinner  to  himself,  and  mercy  finds  him 
at  the  Redeemer's  feet.  It  is  an  immediate 
pardon.  We  read  here,  not  "I  will  for- 
give;" but  "I  forgive."  "  I  am  he  that 
blotteth  out  thy  transgressions."  "Even 
now  wliile  I  am  speaking,  my  hand  is  pass- 
ing over  the  black  and  crowded  page.  I 
have  spoken  ;  the  work  is  done  ;  thou  art 
irce.  Thou  must  wait  indeed  awhile  be- 
fore thy  pardon  is  publicly  proclaimed  ;  my 
angels  must  be  summoned,  and  all  the 
sleeping  dead  must  be  awaked  ;  thou  may- 
est  wait  for  a  few  short  davs  before  thy 
own  unbelieving  heart  rejoices  in  its  blessed- 
ness, or  even  knows  it ;  but  the  deed  of 
acquittal  is  written  ;  I  have  set  my  seal  to 
it ;  the  blood  of  the  covenant  is  on  it. 
Since  I  can  swear  by  no  greater,  I  swear  by 
myself  that  it  shall  never  be  recallecl. 
Thou  wilt  find  it  in  my  word.  Place  it  in 
thy  bosom.  Rejoice  in  it  when  thou  liest 
down,  and  when  thou  risest  up.  And  when 
thy  lips  are  opened  after  the  silence  of  the 
grave,  A\hen  thou  seest  me  on  my  throne, 
and  hast  pleaded  '  Guilty,  guilty,'  at  my 
bar,  then  bring  it  forth.  I  will  acknowledge 
it.    The  heavens  shall  hear  it  and  rejoice." 

Such  then  is  the  pardon  which  God  be- 
stows. And  is  it  not  a  most  gracious 
pardon  ? — so  full,  that  of  all  the  multiplied 
millions  of  Israel's  sins,  there  is  not  one  left 
on  the  record  ; — so  lasting,  that  it  runs  on 
with  eternity  ; — so  immediate  and  prompt, 
that  the  guiltiest  here  might  have  it  in  an 
hour.  Looking  at  the  Being  it  comes  from, 
we  say  with  one  pardoned  sinner,  "  Who 
shall  lay  any  thing  to  the  charge  of  God's 
elect?  It  is  God  that  justifieth.  Who  is 
he  that  condemneth  ?"  Looking  at  the  par- 
don itself,  we  exclaim  with  another,  "  Who 
is  a  God  like  unto  thee,  that  pardoneth 
iniquity  ?" 

III.  "But  why  is  all  this  ?  Where  shall 
we  find  the  Jiwfives  of  Ihis  act  of  mercy  ? 
This  is  our  third  inquiry.  The  answer  to 
it  is  short ;  it  is  humbling,  but  yet  of  all 
answers  the  most  encouraging  and  the  no- 
blest. These  four  words,  "  for  mine  own 
Sake,"  are  the  sum  and  substance  of  the 
gospel ;  the  hope  of  a  lost  world  ;  the  theme, 
the  praise,  the  security,  of  a  sav(>d  one. 

A  good  king  never  pardons  without  a  rea- 
son for  his  conduct.  This,  in  most  cases, 
must  be  looked  for  either  in  the  criminal  or 
in    himself.     Seek    it    in    these    criminals. 


They  are  men  who  have  been  "  makfng 
God  to  serve,"  oppressing  him  "  with  their 
sins,"  and  "  wearying  him  with  their  in- 
iquities." "  Put  me  in  remembrance,"  he 
says  to  them  ;  "  let  us  plead  together  ;  de- 
clare thou,  that  thou  mayest  be  justified," 
They  are  silent ;  their  own  proud  lips  dare 
not  talk  of  justice,  no,  nor  even  plead  foi 
mercy.  And  what  can  our  lips  sav  ? 
They  have  said  much.  They  have  spoken 
of  goodness  and  merit,  of  tears,  and  chari- 
ties, and  prayers,  of  good  hearts  and  harm- 
less lives  ;  but  what  has  God  answered  1 
"Ye  are  all  as  an  unclean  thing,  and  all 
your  righteousnesses  are  as  filthy  rags." 
Misery,  pollution,  guilt;  a  darkened  mind,  a 
desperately  wicked  heart ;  vile  aftections, 
contending  passions,  and  triumphant  lusts  ; 
a  soul  as  earthly  as  a  worm's,  as  proud  as 
Satan's; — these  are  the  things  among  which 
man  must  search  for  all  his  goodness,  for 
all  the  recommendations  he  can  plead  to 
heaven's  favor.  O  what  a  fool  is  man, 
when  man  dreams  of  righteousness  and 
worth  ! 

The  springs  of  mercy  then  must  be  in 
God  ;  but  what  are  they  ?  Turn  again  to 
an  earthly  king. 

1.  He  sometimes  pardons  from  a  love  of 
mercy  ; '  to  gratify  the  feelings  of  a  kind  and 
compassionate  heart.  So  also  does  God. 
"  He  pardoneth  iniquity,"  says  Micah ; 
"  he  passeth  by  the  transgression  of  the 
remnant  of  his  heritage  ;  he  retaineth  not 
his  anger  forever,  because  he  delighteth  in 
mercy."  No  one  loves  mercy  as  God  loves 
it.  And  of  all  the  mercy  he  delights  in, 
pardoning  mercy  he  values  the  most.  He 
is  more  ready  to  offer,  than  the  perishing 
to  accept  it ;  more  willing  to  speak  peace 
to  the  ofTending,  than  they  are  to  hear  it. 
He  deems  his  grace  his  wcallh.  He  calls 
it  his  "riches,"  "the  riches  of  his  glory," 
his  glorious  riches. 

2.  A  king  may  pardon  from  another  mo- 
tive. Perhaps  he  has  just  ascended  his 
throne.  He  desires  to  be  loved  by  his  sub- 
jects ;  he  wishes  his  reign  to  be  glorious. 
He  begins  it,  therefore,  with  an  act  of 
grace,  a  proclamation  of  jiardon.  And 
God  pardons  to  display  his  Hilary  ;  "  for  his 
own  sake  ;"  to  make  his  perfections  known, 
to  put  honor  on  his  eternal  Son,  to  fill  a 
universe  with  his  praise.  And  how  does 
he  attain  this  end  ?  Not  by  at  once  re- 
storing  sinners  to  his  forfeited  love.  No. 
He  saves  his  Israel  ;  one  after  another,  he 


SINS  BLOTTED  OUT  BY  GOD- 


73 


takes  his  redeemed  to  heaven  ;  and  we 
wonder  at  his  grace  as  we  think  of  beings 
so  unworthy  rejoicing  in  so  lioly  a  place  ; 
but  it  is  not  their  salvation  simply,  which 
we  admire.  It  is  not  that  which  raises  the 
new  and  loudest  hosannas  of  his  temple. 
It  is  the  way  in  whicti  he  nas  saved  them ; 
it  is  the  display  he  has  made  of  his  glory 
in  the  cross  of  his  Son.  The  redeemed 
would  have  been  happy,  had  he  pardoned 
them  without  any  satisfaction,  but  neither 
his  love  nor  his  justice  would  have  been  so 
highly  exalted.  Mercy  would  have  shone 
forth,' but  not  in  her  brightness,  not  in  that 
glorious  attire  in  which  she  now  triumphs 
and  reigns. 

IV.  "We  have  now  examined  the  for- 
giveness proclaimed  to  us.  The  most  im- 
portant matter,  however,  yet  remains  be- 
hind— How  oii^ht  we  to  Irea'l  this  offer  of  par- 
don ?  How  ouiiht  we  to  act  with  respect  to  it  ? 

Place  yourselves  within  a  prison.  A 
sovereign  enters  it,  and  declares  aloud  that 
he  has  mercy,  many  free  and  full  acquit- 
tals, to  bestow.  How  would  the  inhabitant 
of  every  cell  and  dungeon  act  ?  Would  he 
not  hasten  to  throw  himself  at  his  monarch's 
feet,  and  eagerly  exclaim,  "  Pardon  me ! 
O  save  me  !"     Imitate  these  men. 

1.  Make  this  your  first  concern,' to  seek 
the  pardon  offe  red  you  in  the  gospel .  Labor 
to  secure  it  for  yourselves. 

You  answer,  perhaps,  "  We  have  done 
so."  Then  tell  me,  or  rather  tell  your  own 
consciences,  the  hour,  the  day,  in  which  you 
have  sought  this  mercy.  Name  the  cham- 
ber, the  field,  the  church,  where  you  have 
smitten  on  the  breast,  and,  with  the  earnest- 
ness of  a  dying  man  supplicating  life,  cried 
for  forgiveness.  Is  there  such  a  place  on 
the  earth  1  Is  there  such  an  hour  in  your 
history  1  Some  of  you  must  answer,  "  No." 
Then  how  came  this  wonderful  pardon 
yours  ?  Brethren,  it  is  not  yours.  None 
has  ever  found,  who  has  not  sought  it.  It 
is  as  free  as  the  air  you  breathe  ;  but  they 
die  unpardoned,  who  despise  it.  O  that  you 
knew  your  need  of  it !  O  that  you  knew 
its  value  !  O  that  you  knew  the  conse- 
quences of  setting  it  at  naught !  You  may 
do  without  it  in  some  poor  way,  as  long  as 
you  are  within  these  prison  walls,  but  you 
must  soon  leave  them.  "  The  Judge  is  at 
the  door."  Death  is  ready  to  call  you 
away.  Ere  a  few  more  years  are  gone, 
your  body  will  be  a  lump  of  clay,  and  your 
soul  will  stand  trembling  before  its  God. 
10 


O  pity  yourselves !  To  be  going  to  sucli  a 
place  as  the  bar  of  heaven,  and  to  be  going 
there  with  the  tidings  of  pardon  sounding  in 
your  ears,  and  yet  to  care  about  any  thing 
or  every  thing  rather  than  pardon ! — none 
but  the  Spirit  of  God  can  cure  such  fully  as 
this.  At  once  implore  him  to  work  elFcc- 
tually  in  your  hearts.  Fall  down  this  night 
before  him,  and  on  your  bended  knees  make 
this  your  prayer,  "  Lord,  help  me."  "  Lord, 
save  me."  "  Wash  me  thoroughly  from 
mine  iniquity,  and  cleanse  me  from  my 
sin." 

2.  Are  any  of  you  already  seeking  this 
forgiveness?  seeking  it  with  a  feeling, 
broken,  imploring  heart  ?  Then  stretch 
forth  the  hand  of  faith  -.—take  this  pardon. 
You  have  heard  that  it  is  full  ;  God  tells 
you  it  is  free.  He  offers  it  to  you,  not  be- 
cause you  have  deserved  it,  or  because  you 
are  fit  to  receive  it ;  but  simply  "  for  his 
own  sake"— to  indulge  his  mercy,  to  mag- 
nify his  grace. 

Cease  then  from  all  unbelieving  reason- 
ings and  proud  objections.  If  you  are  con- 
scious of  your  need  of  pardon,  if  above  all 
things  you  desire  pai'don,  if  you  despair  of 
doing  any  thing  whatsoever  to  deserve  it, 
if  you  are  really  willing  to  receive  it,  as 
guilty,  condemned,  helpless,  dying  men  ; 
then  "you  are  as  much  warranted  as  sinners 
can  be,  to  go,  in  Christ's  name,  to  the  mercy- 
seat,  and  to  take  this  complete  and  eternal 
pardon  as  your  own.  To  you,  as  well  as 
to  the  proud  in  heart,  God  says,  "  Put  me 
in  remembrance.  Let  us  plead  together." 
"  Tell  me  not  forever  of  thine  unfitness  for 
my  kingdom,  thy  rebellion  and  thy  crimes. 
Tell  me^'of  my  iiivitations  to  the  guilty,  and 
my  promises  to  the  lost.  Tell  me  of  the 
blood  that  was  shed  to  save  thee.  Tell  me 
of  the  tears,  and  prayers,  and  righteousness, 
the  cross,  and  passion,  of  my  Son.  Show 
me  that  thou  canst  trust  my  word.  Only 
believe,  and  though  thou  wert  as  sinful  as 
the  cursing  Peter,  or  as  unworthy  as  the 
l)ersecuting  Saul,  I,  even  I,  am  he  that  blot- 
tcth  out  ti>y  transgressions  for  mine  own 
sake,  and  will  not  remember  thy  sins." 

3.  Are  any  among  you  really  in  posses- 
sion of  this  mercy  ?  Then  go  once  again 
for  instruction  to  the  prisoner's  cell. 

He  has  sought  and  obtained  his  mon- 
arch's pardon.  The  deed  confirming  it  is 
in  his  hands.  After  a  kw  months  or  years 
have  past,  he  hears  the  same  voice  again  pro- 
claiming the  same  free  mercy.    How  would 


74 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  PARDONED. 


such  a  mail  act  ?  Would  he  hear  that 
voice  now  with  indifference  ?  O  no.  It 
would  remind  him  anew  of  his  former  dan- 
ger. He  would  press  the  warrant  of  his 
safety  closely  to  his  heart  and  rejoice  in 
it  afresh.  And  how  would  he  treat  the 
author  of  his  security  ?  Would  he  despise 
him  because  he  was  merciful  ?  make  liglit 
of  his  displeasure,  because  he  had  been  set 
free  by  his  grace  ?  Would  he  turn  traitor 
against  him,  because  he  was  good  ?  He 
could  not  do  this.  He  would  make  the 
prison  ring  with  his  praises.  He  would  be 
found  amongst  the  very  first  at  his  feet ;  he 
would  be  the  last  to  depart  from  his  sight. 
One  minute,  he  would  be  calling  on  some 
thoughtless  criminal  to  apply  for  his  mercy ; 
the  ne.xt,  he  would  be  shouting  with  praise 
for  some  new  pardon  bestowed.  Were  he 
in  his  right  mind,  such  a  man  would  be  the 
humblest  and  happiest  within  those  prison- 
walls. 

What  shall  I  .say  more  ?     Re  like  that 
man.     "  Go,  and  do  thou  likewise." 


SERMON  XIV. 

THE  CHARACTER  OF  THE  PARDONED. 

St.  Luke  vii.  37,  38. 

Behold,  n  tnoman  in  the  city,  which  was  a  sinner, 
when  she  knew  that  Jesus  sat  at  meat  in  the 
Pkarisee^s  house,  brought  an  alabaster  box  of 
ointment,  and  stood  at  his  feet  behind  him, 
weeping,  and  began  to  wash  his  feet  with  tears, 
and  did  wipe  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head, 
and  kissed  his  feet,  and  anointed  them  with  the 
ointment. 

A  SINNER  mu.st  bo  either  pardoned  or  lo.st. 
We,  brethren,  are  .sinners.  It  is  a  question 
therefore  which  no  one  of  us  can  too  ear- 
nestly put  to  his  soul,  Are  my  sins  forgiven  ? 
Am  I  a  pardoned,  or  an  unpardoned  trans- 
gressor of  the  law  of  Heaven  ?  Some  of  us 
perhaps  are  deeply  anxious  to  have  this 
momentous  question  truly  answered.  How 
then  shall  we  proceed  ?  There  is  no  easier 
way  than  to  open  our  Bibles,  to  find  there 
some  transgressor  whom  God  himself  has 
declared  forgiven,  and  to  see  how  far  his 
character  corresponds  with  our  own. 

This  text  brings  such  a  sinner  before  us — 
a  woman  of  Capernaum  or  Nain.  Her 
name  is  not  mentioned.  A  few  short  ver- 
ses contain  all  that  we  know  of  her  history. 


But  we  are  sure  that  we  are  right  in  turn- 
ing to  her  for  a  .standard.  Tlie  blessed 
Jesus  himself  seems  to  hold  her  out  to  us 
for  this  purpose.  He  treats  her  with  pecu- 
liar favor ;  he  twice  pronounces  her  for- 
given. O  may  he  ble.ss  our  review  of  her 
character  to  the  conviction  or  comfort  of 
every  heart  ? 

I.  She  is  first  introduced  to  our  notice, 
as  entering  a  house  wherein  our  Lord  was 
sitting  at  meat.  It  was  a  Pharisee's  liouise. 
She  was  a  sinner  ;  a  known,  open  sinner ; 
consequently  an  unbidden,  and  doubtless  an 
unwelcome  guest.  But  Christ  was  under 
that  roof;  and  thither,  regardless  of  conse- 
quences, did  her  eager  feet  at  once  carry  her. 

Here  then  becomes  visible  one  of  the 
first  marks  which  distinguish  the  pardoned 
— they  seek  Christ  ;  they  come  to  him. 

None  others  seek  him.  Not  the  care- 
less— they  think  not  of  him.  Not  the  self- 
righteous — they  can  do  without  him.  Not 
all  whom  conscience  stings — thousands  of 
these  fly  to  a  giddy  world  for  relief;  many 
try  sacraments  and  prayers,  and  many 
more  intemperance  and  sin  ;  some  exclaim 
for  a  time,  with  the  astonished  Peter,  "  De- 
part from  me,  for  I  am  a  sinful  man,  O 
Lord ;"  a  few,  even  on  this  side  of  the 
grave,  cry  out  in  the  anguish  of  their  hearts, 
with  the  unclean  spirits,  "  What*have  we 
to  do  with  thee,  Jesus,  thou  Son  of  God  ?" 
and  then,  like  Judas,  they  rush  unbidden  to 
his  bar. 

But  turn  to  the  pardoned.  "  We  would 
see  Jesus,"  is  the  language  of  them  all. 
Nothing  can  satisfy,  nothing  can  quiet 
them  but  Christ.  They  seek  him  more 
than  they  seek  any  thing  or  every  thing  be- 
side. There  is  not  one  of  them,  who  does 
not  grieve  because  his  cold,  wandering 
heart  does  not  seek  him  more. 

They  seek  him  with  different  feelings  ; — 
sometimes  like  the  P-thiopian  convert,  re- 
joicing; sometimes,  like  Joseph  and  Mary, 
sorrowing  ;  sometimes,  like  the  woman  who 
touched  the  hem  of  his  garment,  trembling  ; 
l)ut  whether  happy  or  sad,  in  sickness  or 
in  health,  in  trouble  or  in  joy,  they  arc  in- 
quiring for  Christ,  they  cannot  rest  till  they 
find  him.  In  his  works,  they  look  for  him  ; 
in  his  house,  they  strive  to  draw  near  to 
him  ;  in  prayer,  they  thirst  for  his  presence. 
They  prize  his  word,  because  it  testifies  of 
his  grace  ;  their  mercies  are  sweetened  to 
them,  becau.se  in  their  mercies  they  see  his 
goodness;  they  almost  love  t'.ieir  aflliction«;, 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  PARDONED. 


75 


because  tlieir  afflictions  brincj  him  near  to 
their  souls.  They  long  for  death,  for  they 
know  death  to  be  tlie  messenger  which  he 
sends  to  fetch  his  people  to  himself.  And 
when  tiiey  think  of  heaven,  this  is  the  pros- 
pect whicli  makes  their  hearts  burn  the 
most ;  not,  "  We  shall  hunger  no  more, 
neither  thirst  any  more  ;"  not,  "  We  shall 
have  done  with  sorrow  and  care ;"  but, 
"  We  shall  see  Christ ;  we  shall  be  ever 
witii  the  Lord." 

The  pardoned  seek  Christ ; — that  mark 
distinguishes  them  from  the  worldly.  They 
seek  him  as  a  Saviour ; — that  separates  them 
from  the  pharisaic  and  proud.  They  seek 
him  as  a  Sanctiiier,  a  King  ; — that  draws 
the  line  between  them  and  all  the  abusers 
of  his  grace.  They  seek  him  as  a  Com- 
forter ; — that  removes  them  far  away  from 
those  who  are  "  lovers  of  pleasure  more 
than  lovers  of  God." 

But  the  angels  seek  Christ.  We  must 
go  further  therefore  in  search  of  some  other 
mark  of  the  pardoned.     We  have  it  here — 

II.  They  have  a  lively  rememlrance  of 
tlieir  sins. 

Not  a  word  indeed  does  this  woman 
speak  of  her  guilt ;  but  had  she  forgotten  it  ? 
One  look  at  her  tells  us  that  it  was  fresh  in 
her  memory,  and  almost  bursting  her  heart. 
The  Phaj'isee  deems  her  a  sinner  ;  a  sin- 
ner, the  Holy  Spirit  calls  her  ;  as  a  sinner, 
Christ  himself  addresses  her  ;  and  could 
she  have  spoken,  with  what  feeling  would 
she  have  echoed  the  word,  and  styled  her- 
self a  sinner,  yea,  of  sinners  the  chief! 

This,  we  may  be  told,  was  her  infirmity. 
O  that  it  were  the  infirmity  of  every  trans- 
gressor on  the  earth  !  There  are  men  who 
contend  that  pardoned  sin  should  be  forgot- 
ten. They  know  no  more  of  the  power  of 
godliness  than  a  stone.  It  can  never  be 
forgotten.  As  soon  as  it  is  cancelled  in 
heaven,  it  is  written  "  with  a  pen  of  iron" 
in  the  memory  forever.  The  murderer 
may  forget  his  crimes,  Judas  his  treason, 
and  all  liell  its  rebellion  ;  but  as  long  as 
the  pardoned  have  minds  that  can  work, 
and  hearts  that  can  feel,  not  all  the  sor- 
rows of  life,  nor  all  the  joys  of  heaven,  nor 
all  the  ageij  of  eternity,  can  blot  out  the  re- 
membrance of  their  guilt  or  weaken  its 
power.  It  is  as  lasting  as  pardon  itself. 
A  sense  of  pardon  keeps  it  alive.  A  man 
never  rightly  feels  hiniself  a  sinner,  till  he 
looks  with  an  eye  of  faith  on  Christ  as  his 
Saviour  ;  till  he  begins  to  hope  that  wrath 


is  escaped  and  heaven  won.  "  Then  shall 
ye  remember  your  own  evil  ways  and  your 
doings  that  were  not  good,"  says  the  Lord 
to  Israel.  And  when  was  this  remembrance 
to  begin  ?  Not  till  he  had  "  saved  them 
from  all  their  uncleannesses  ;"  not  till  he 
had  said  to  them,  "  Ye  shall  be  my  people, 
and  I  will  be  your  God." 

Look  at  the  prodigal.  "  When  he  was 
yet  a  great  way  ofT,  his  father  saw  him, 
and  had  compassion,  and  ran,  and  fell  on 
his  neck,  and  kissed  him."  And  what  was 
the  effect  of  all  this  tenderness  ?  The  very 
effect  which  the  enjoyment  of  redeeming 
love  produces  in  every  breast.  The  first 
words  which  came  from  that  contrite  rebel 
were  a  confession  of  his  guilt.  The  son 
said  unto  him,  "Father,  I  have  sinned 
against  heaven  and  in  thy  sight,  and  am  no 
more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son." 

And  look  higher.  Why  is  that  new  song 
in  heaven  so  loud  ?  Why  are  the  par- 
doned  the  most  fervent  in  their  hosannas 
and  praise  1  Because  they  know  that  they 
are  pardoned.  They  have  taken  up  into 
heaven  a  remembrance  of  the  sins  which 
they  committed  upon  earth,  they  compare 
their  former  state  with  their  present,  they 
see  something  of  the  amazing  love  which 
has  saved  them  ;  and  though  the  voice  of 
all  the  angels  were  silenced,  they  could  not 
hold  their  peace  ;  they  would  still  make 
the  courts  of  heaven  ring  with  this  one 
sound,  "  Salvation  ;"  they  would  still  say, 
"  Thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us;" 
they  would  still  cry  aloud,  "  Unto  him  that 
loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins,  be 
glory  and  dominion  forever." 

But  an  objection  may  be  raised  even 
here — sin  is  remembered  in  hell,  as  well  as 
in  heaven  ;  by  many  of  the  condemned  on 
earth,  as  well  as  the  justified.  Something 
more  peculiar  yet  is  wanted  to  mark  the  for- 
given transgressor.  This  penitent  will 
supply  it. 

III.  The  pardoned  remember  their  sins 
with  a  softening  and  humbling  sorrow. 

This  can  be  said  of  none  other.  The 
angels  that  sinned  are  as  proud  in  their 
own  wretchedness  now,  as  in  the  first  hour 
of  their  fall.  And  who  have  been  among 
the  most  high-minded  and  hardened  on 
earth  ?  They  who  have  sufTered  the  most 
from  the  anguish  of  remorse.  Did  Cain 
ever  weep  for  sin  ?  Did  Pharaoh  humble 
himself?     Did  Judas  pray  1 

There  is  a  sorrow  for  past  transgressions, 


/6 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  PARDONED. 


which  proves  no  more  in  our  favor  than 
a  fever  in  the  l)rain  or  a  whirlwind  in  the 
air.  No  holy  effects  follow  it:  it  may  break 
our  hearts,  but  it  will  never  subdue  them. 
No  gracious  dispositions  produce  it :  a  trou- 
bled conscience,  a  dread  of  shame,  a  fear  of 
punishment — these  are  its  sources.  Death 
is  its  end.  But  look  at  that  consciousness 
of  guilt  which  distinguishes  the  accepted 
penitent.  It  lays  the  proudest  in  the  dust. 
This  woman  was  once  probably  an  object  of 
admiration,  if  not  of  love  ;  flattered  perhaps 
by  the  great,  and  seated  on  high  with  the 
rich.  Where  is  she  now  ?  At  the  feet  of 
a  despised  Nazarene. 

Here  we  must  remember  that  the  ancient 
Jews  did  not  sit  at  their  meals,  as  is  usual 
among  ourselves.  They  lay  reclined  on 
couches  placed  round  their  tables.  The 
feet  of  Jesus,  on  this  occasion,  were  con- 
sequently not  on  the  ground,  but  on  the 
couch  whereon  he  was  sitting.  Near  them 
this  sinner  took  her  station.  "  She  stood  at 
the  feet"  of  Jesus.  Mary  sat  at  his  feet 
when  she  listened  to  his  words  at  Bethany. 
This  was  an  humble  station ;  but  this  wo- 
man stands  in  his  presence,  and  stands  at 
his  feet.  And  not  only  so,  she  deems  her- 
self unworthy  to  appear  before  his  face; 
she  stands  "  behind  him."  And  what  is 
her  errand  there  ?  She  came  to  pour  oint- 
ment on  his  head,  but  she  cannot  fulfil  her 
purpose.  Trembling  diffidence  restrains 
her  hand.  Her  heart  is  melting  within  her. 
All  she  can  do  is  to  weep.  She  "  stood  at 
his  feet  behind  him  weeping."  And  the 
tears  which  she  shed  were  not  a  few. 
They  fell  so  fast,  that  they  served  to  wash  the 
blessed  feet  of  her  Lord.  And  they  fell 
for  a  long  time.  The  Saviour  began  to 
speak,  but  her  tears  did  not  cease.  O  what 
a  scene  was  this  !  An  angel  could  hardly 
have  looked  on  it  without  wishing  to  share 
its  emotions. 

Will  any  man  say  that  the  tears  shed 
here  were  the  tears  of  weakness  or  folly  ? 
that  they  flowed  from  merely  natural 
causes  ?  Then  let  him  tell  us  whence 
flowed  the  tears  of  the  manly  Peter,  when 
he  went  out  from  the  high  priest's  palace, 
and  "wept  bitterly."  Let  him  tell  us  why 
Jacob  "wept  and  made  supplication;" — 
why  the  noble  Paul  served  God  "  with 
many  tears;" — why  the  tears  of  David 
were  his  "meat  day  and  night."  And  then 
let  him  go  a  step  further.  I^et  him  tell  us 
that  a  sino;le  tear  for  sin  never  falls  from  his 


own  dry  eye;  that  all  his  life  long  his 
transgressions  have  never  perhaps  cost  him 
a  sigh.  What  answer  shall  we  make  him  ? 
We  would  tell  him  to  look  upward  ;  there 
dwells  an  offended  Father; — downward; 
there  lies  a  dark  and  wo-worn  hell ; — 
backward ;  he  will  see  mercies  abused, 
patience  wasted,  and  sins  committed,  which 
might  make  an  angel  mourn  ; — forward  ; 
a  tremendous  eternity  ; — within  him  ;  a 
polluted  and  ruined  heart ; — without  him  ; 
a  miserable  and  wicked  world,  a  world 
which  he  has  loved  better  than  his  God. 
If  these  things  have  not  power  to  move  him, 
we  Avill  tell  him  of  an  incarnate  God;  of 
the  Babe  of  Bethlehem ;  of  the  Man  of 
sorrows  we  have  seen  at  Golgotha  ;  of  the 
love,  and  tears,  and  cross,  of  Jesus  Christ. 
We  will  tell  him  of  mercy  that  even  now 
does  not  abandon  him  ;  of  grace  that  even 
yet  is  sounding  in  his  ears,  "  Why  will  ye 
die  ?"  And  then,  if  that  man  still  makes 
scorn  of  the  penitent  transgressor's  sorrow, 
we  will  say,  and  say  it  almost  weeping, 
that  we  would  not  have  our  souls  in  his  soul's 
stead  for  a  thousand  worlds. 

Contrition,  shame,  humiliation,  self- 
loathing — sorrow,  pungent,  secret,  and  last- 
ing— these  are  the  marks  which  stamp  a 
sinner  for  heaven.  These  are  the  things 
which  make  angels  rejoice,  as  they  look  on 
a  worm  of  the  dust,  and  cause  the  Redeem, 
er  himself  to  call  him  blessed. 

Do  you  need  any  proof  that  these  sayings 
are  true  ?  O  that  your  own  hearts  could 
afford  it !  O  that  your  own  experience 
rendered  every  other  testimony  needless  ! 
But  hear  the  voice  of  Jehovah.  He  is  speak- 
ing to  Israel.  "I  will  establish  my  cove- 
nant with  thee ;" — for  what  purpose  ?  "  that 
thou  mayest  remember,  and  be  confounded, 
and  never  open  thy  mouth  any  more  because 
of  thy  shame,  when  I  am  pacified  towards 
thee  for  all  that  thou  hast  done,  saith  the 
Lord  God."  Hear  a  weeping  Saviour's 
testimony  ;  "  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn, 
for  they  shall  be  comforted."  "  Blessed 
are  ye  that  weep  now,  for  ye  shall  laugh." 

Here  we  miglit  stop.  Angels  may  seek 
Christ,  as  well  as  the  pardoned  ;  the  con- 
demned and  lost  may  remember  their  sins; 
but  neither  on  earth,  in  heaven,  nor  in  hell, 
can  this  humiliation,  this  sorrow  for  sin,  be 
found,  except  in  a  pardoned  soul.  But 
there  is  one  feature  more  in  the  character 
of  the  forgiven,  which  the  conduct  of  tHs 
woman  wil  not  suffer  us  to  overlook. 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  PARDONED. 


77 


IV.  They  have  a  peculiar  love  for  Christ. 
their  Lord;  such  u  love,  brethrfii,  as  passes 
the  understanding  of  a  cold-liearted  world; 
a  love  that  angels,  in  the  very  presence  of 
their  Lord,  cannot  feel.  I 

W^e  all  say  that  Christ  must  be  loved, 
but  what  is  the  love  which  men  in  general 
bear  him  ?  Let  them  offer  it  one  to  another ; 
let  a  child  ofler  such  love  to  a  parent,  or  a 
man  to  his  friend  ; — it  would  be  scorned. 
It  is  cold,  selfish,  without  feeling  or  life  ; 
a  love  of  profession  and  form,  drawing  at 
times  a  few  words  of  respect  from  the  lips, 
but  never  exciting  in  the  heart  one  throb  or 
glow.  It  is  less  costly  than  the  Hindoo's 
love  for  his  idol  ;  it  is  almost  as  low  as  the 
African's  love  for  the  evil  spirit  at  whose 
image  he  trembles. 

'•  Seest  thou  this  woman  ?"  said  Jesus  to 
iSimon.  It  was  her  love  that  he  bid  him 
mark.  And  what  was  that?  The  homage 
•which  greatness  extorts  ?  the  respect  which 
exalted  goodness  commands  ?  the  obedience 
and  service  which  a  cold  sense  of  duty  re- 
luctantly yields  ?  It  was  more.  It  was 
an  emotion,  a  feeling;  a  pure,  and  deep, 
and  all-conquering  principle  ;  an  affection, 
such  as  Christ  only  can  excite,  and  his 
Spirit  only  can  give.  It  was  that  love  to 
which  a  consciousness  of  pardon  ever  gives 
birth  in  a  sinner's  breast.  Consider  its 
character. 

It  was  a  tender  love ;  a  love  which 
delights  in  its  object,  and  seeks  to  be  near 
it ;  a  love  which  can  say  with  the  pardon- 
ed David,  "  In  thy  presence  is  fulness  of 
joy."  She  came  to  Jesus ;  she  stood  near 
him  ;  she  kissed  his  feet. 

It  was  an  active  love.  It  said  not  a  word, 
but  it  did  all  that  it  could.  Simon  himself 
ought  to  have  washed  the  feet  of  Christ. 
The  act  would  have  been  no  more  than  the 
usual  hospitality  of  the  country  required. 
But  he  was  too  haughty  to  perform  such  an 
office  for  such  a  guest.  This  woman  could 
not  bear  the  neglect.  A  flood  of  tears 
gushed  from  her  eyes;  and  these  supplied 
the  place  of  the  water,  which  the  hands  of 
others  ought  to  have  administered. 

It  was  a  self-denying  love.  To  pour  oil 
on  the  head  was  another  mark  of  respect 
sometimes  offered  in  eastern  countries  to 
strangers.  It  was  less  usual  than  washing 
the  feet,  and  not,  in  ordinary  cases,  involv- 
ing in  its  omission  any  breach  of  civility. 
This  sinner  did  not  expect  Christ  to  be  thus 
honored  in  the  house  of  a  Pharisee  j  but 


shall  he  go  without  any  mark  of  honor, 
which  she  can  pay  him  ?  No.  Like 
Mary  of  Bethany,  she  takes  a  box  of  the 
most  precious  ointment  which  the  country 
afforded,  and  hastened  with  it  to  her  Lord. 
When  by  his  side,  she  pours  the  ointment 
on  the  feet  which  the  haughty  Pliarisee  had 
dishonored,  and  then  she  "  wipes  them 
with  the  hairs  of  her  head."  She  deems 
no  sacrifice  too  great,  so  that  it  honors 
Christ ;  no  service  mean,  that  he  will  ac- 
cept. Joyfully  would  she  have  forsaken 
all  the  world  for  him,  and  followed  him  as 
his  servant  all  the  days  of  her  life.  Nay, 
who  can  look  at  this  woman,  and  not  sec,  at 
a  glance,  that  she  would  have  rejoiced  to 
shed  her  heart's  blood  for  that  Nazarene  ? 

And  then  the  love  which  she  bore  to  him 
was  a  delightful  love  ;  a  love  which  made 
her  happy.  It  mingled  with  her  humilia- 
tion and  shame,  and  took  from  them  much 
of  their  bitterness.  It  almost  turned  her 
sorrow  into  joy.  It  made  her  very  tears 
pleasant  to  her,  the  sweetest  doubtless  she 
had  ever  known.  Of  all  the  women  on  the 
earth,  she  perhaps  at  that  moment  was  the 
happiest.  It  seems  as  though  a  step  would 
have  taken  her  to  heaven  ;  as  though  she 
could  in  a  moment  have  broken  out  into  its 
song,  and  opened  her  heart  to  its  joys.  And 
what  can  be  more  blessed  than  to  lie  at  the 
feet  of  Christ  1  to  have  our  hard  hearts 
melted  there  in  penitence  and  love,  and 
then  to  have  that  whisper  from  heaven  enter 
the  soul,  "  Thy  sins  are  forgiven  ?"  All 
that  is  higher  than  this,  is  not  on  earth  ;  it 
must  be  looked  for  in  the  heavens. 

This,  brethren,  is  the  sinner,  whose  char- 
acter we  proposed  to  examine.  We  have 
taken  only  a  partial  survey  of  it.  There 
is  enough,  however,  in  what  we  have  seen, 
to  show  us  hoio  many  graces  depend  on  a 
simple  application  to  the  Saviour  for  mercy. 

The  humility,  contrition,  and  love,  which 
we  have  been  contemplating,  were  not 
merely  the  signs  of  a  pardon  conferred  ; 
they  were  the  fruits  of  a  pardon  received. 
They  all  sprang  out  of  that  faith  which 
brought  this  woman  as  a  sinner  to  Christ ; 
they  all  flowed  from  a  belief  of  his  pardoning 
grace.  She  "  loved  much,  because  her  sins, 
which  were  many,  had  been  forgiven."  And 
to  what  does  our  Lord  attribute  her  safety, 
her  peace,  her  salvation  ?  To  the  very 
faith  which  brought  her  to  him  for  j)ardon. 
lie  said  to  her,  "  Thy  faith  hath  saved  thee  ; 
go  in  peace." 


78 


CHARACTER  OF  THE  PARDONED. 


Some  of  us  then  may  discover  here  why 
we  are  so  ungodly  and  comfortless — we 
are  never  on  our  knees  at  a  footstool  of 
mercy.  Others  may  see  why  their  graces 
are  so  languid  and  their  hopes  so  low — 
they  are  seldom  pleading  the  blood  of  Christ 
for  forgiveness.  When  once  they  have 
caught  a  faint  view  of  pardon,  many  ap- 
pear to  act  as  though  they  needed  pardon 
no  more.  They  no  longer  seek  it.  They 
imagine  that  in  the  new  title  of  children  of 
God,  they  have  lost  the  character  of  sin- 
ners. This  notion  has  been  the  bane  of 
thousands.  It  has  first  puffed  up  and  then 
ruined  many  a  soul.  It  has  clouded  the 
views,  and  marred  the  comforts,  and  hin- 
dered the  progress  of  many  more.  Re- 
nounce it,  brethren.  However  sanctified 
and  however  blessed,  you  must  enter  heaven 
at  last  as  sinners.  O  be  content,  while  on 
earth,  to  stand  before  God  as  sinners.  Is 
the  hardness  of  your  hearts  a  grief  to  you  ? 
Is  their  pride  a  burden  ?  Is  their  want  of 
love  a  sorrow  and  a  shame  ?  Do  your 
souls  ache  for  an  assurance  of  pardon  ? 
O  then  seek  this  assurance,  seek  peace, 
seek  love,  seek  a  broken  and  contrite  spirit, 
in  this  one  prayer,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me 
a  sinner !" 

We  learn  also  here  how  to  judge  of  the 
state  of  our  own  souls. 

Twice  does  our  Lord  call  this  woman 
forgiven.  Not  satisfied  with  telling  Simon 
that  her  guilt  was  cancelled,  he  says  to  her, 
unasked,  "  Thy  sins  are  forgiven."  And 
when  does  he  say  this  ?  While  she  is 
standing  behind  him  weeping  ;  while  she  is 
washing  his  feet  with  her  tears,  and  wiping 
them  with  the  hairs,  of  her  head.  We  need 
not  then  go  up  to  the  skies  to  see  whether 
our  iniquities  are  blotted  out  from  the  rec- 
ords of  heaven  ;  nor  must  we  trust  to  con- 
victions, or  impressions,  or  feelings.  We 
must  look  into  our  hearts  ;  we  must  ex- 
amine our  dispositions  and  lives ;  we 
must  endeavor  to  discover  in  ourselves  the 
marks  which  distinguish  all  the  pardoned 
of  God. 

Are  these  marks  visible  on  you  1  Have 
you  beheld  in  the  character  of  this  silent 
penitent,  any  resemblance  to  your  own  ? 
We  will  not  say,  do  you  seek  Christ  so  ear- 
nestly as  she  sought  him?  is  your  remem- 
brance of  sin  as  lively  as  hers  ;  your  sor- 
row as  humbling  and  softenuig ;  your  love 


as  tender,  and  warm,  and  active,  and  self- 
denying,  and  blessed  ?  She  had  been  a 
great  sinner ;  and  all  her  feelings  and  ac- 
tions were  in  some  degree  proportioned  to 
the  greatness  of  her  sin.  We  will  come 
lower.  Do  you  really  love  Christ  more 
than  you  love  any  earthly  friend,  more 
than  you  love  any  earthly  sin  ?  Do  you 
love  him,  because  you  have  received  from 
his  hands  a  pardon  bestowed  by  his  mercy, 
and  bought  with  his  blood  ?  Do  you  seek 
his  favor  and  presence  more  than  you  seek 
money,  or  pleasure,  or  any  thing  which 
the  world  can  give  ?  Is  your  remembrance 
of  sin  such  as  would  make  it  as  easy  for 
you  to  cease  to  breathe,  as  to  cease  from 
prayer  for  forgiveness  ?  Do  you  so  mourn 
over  it,  as  to  feel  it  to  be  your  chief  sor- 
row  ?  and  are  you  so  humbled  under  a 
sense  of  it,  as  to  ae-c-ount  it  your  chief,  your 
only  shame  ? 

Trust  not  to  any  one  of  these  things. 
They  were  all  in  this  woman.  Not  a  jus- 
tified sinner  has  ever  trodden  the  earth,  in 
whom,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  they 
have  not  all  been  found.  If  they  are  not  in 
you  ;  if  your  eye,  which  can  weep  under 
worldly  sorrows,  is  dry  as  a  desert  over 
spiritual  evils,  and  your  heart  hard  as  a 
rock  at  the  mention  of  spiritual  mercies,  be 
assured  that  the  forgiveness  you  hope  in, 
is  not  that  which  this  woman  received,  nor 
that  which  Christ  bestows.  It  is  a  forged 
pardon.  It  comes  from  the  father  of  lies. 
And  what  will  it  profit  you  1  No  more 
than  an  acquittal  written  with  his  own  hana 
Avould  profit  a  criminal  who  has  been  tried 
and  condemned.  It  will  answer  no  other 
purpose  than  to  deceive,  to  harden,  and 
destroy  you. 

Think  of  your  situation,  brethren.  You 
are  unpardoned  sinners  in  a  dying  world, 
on  the  verge  of  a  wretched,  endless  hell. 
"  The  Judge  is  at  the  door."  The  minis- 
ters of  vengeance  are  at  hand.  A  few 
hours  only  are  left  you  for  escape.  O  let 
them  not  run  to  waste.  "  Agree  with  thine 
adversary  quickly,  whiles  thou  art  in  the 
way  with  him  ;  lest  at  any  time  the  adver- 
sary deliver  thee  to  the  judge,  and  the 
judge  deliver  thee  to  the  officer,  and  thou 
be  cast  into  prison.  "Verily,  I  say  unto 
thee,  thou  shalt  by  no  means  come  out 
thence,  till  thou  hast  paid  the  uttermost 
farthing." 


THE  AFFLICTED  DAVID  A  PARDONED  SINNER. 


79 


SERMON    XV. 

THE  AFFLICTED  DAVID  A  PARDONED 
SINNER. 

2  Samuel  .\ii.  13. 

Nathan  said  unto  David,  The  Lord  also  hath  put 
away  ihij  sin. 

The  closinp:  yearsof  the  life  of  David  are 
deeply  but  most  painfully  interestiiiff.  His 
dreadful  crimes,  and  the  miseries  wliich  fol- 
lowed them,  are  such  as  we  can  never  forget, 
and  yet  never  think  of  without  a  shudder. 

But  there  is  some  light  amidst  all  this 
darkness.  We  learn  from  the  text  the 
readiness  of  Jehovah  to  blot  out  the  most 
heinous  olfences  ;  and  who  can  look  on  the 
contrition  of  this  pardoned  sinner,  without 
instruction  and  pleasure  ?  Some  of  us  may 
derive  consolation  even  from  his  sufferings. 
They  show  us  that  many  things  which  we 
are  prone  to  regard  as  the  sure  marks  of 
an  unpardoned  condition,  are  yet  sometimes 
found  in  the  redeemed  soul  ;  are,  in  fact, 
no  proofs  or  indications  whatever  of  a  con- 
demned state.  To  this  single  point  then 
let  us  confine  our  attention  ;  and  may  the 
Holy  Spirit  bless  our  consideration  of  it  to 
i.he  comfort  of  every  sorrowful  heart ! 

I.  Heavy  ajfliciions  are  no  signs  of  an 
unpardoned  condition.  If  they  were,  who 
was  ever  more  lost  than  David?  "The 
Lord  hath  put  away  thy  sin,"  said  the 
prophet  to  him  ;  but  from  that  hour  judg- 
ments followed  him  to  the  grave. .  You 
remember  the  history  of  his  woes.  They 
were  such  as  make  a  father's  ear  tingle  as 
he  hears  of  them.  They  almost  broke  that 
poor  monarch's  heart.  But  in  the  lowest 
depths  to  which  he  sunk,  the  words  of 
Nathan  concerning  him  were  as  true,  as 
though  he  had  been  happy  on  his  throne. 
The  iniquities  of  David  were  forgiven. 

There  are  times  when  we  find, it  hard  to 
believe  this  truth.  A  light  and  short  afllic- 
tion  seldom  much  depresses  us,  for  we  can 
easily  reconcile  it  with  a  Father's  faithful- 
ness ;  but  when  blow  succeeds  to  blow, 
when  our  troubles  are  peculiar,  and  long 
continued,  and  harrowing,  our  hearts  begin 
to  fail  us.  .We  think  that  a  gracious  God 
never  can  love  the  creatures  whom  he  so 
severely  wounds.  We  could  not  so  afllict 
our  children  ;  we  are  ready  to  conclude, 
therefore,  that  were  we  the  children  of  a 
loieavenly  Father,  he  would   not  so  afllict 


us :  our  once  peaceful  assurance  of  his 
pardoning  mercy  gives  way,  and  is  suc- 
ceeded by  perplexity  and  doubt. 

But  where  all  this  time  are  tiie  declara- 
tions of  our  Bilde  gone  ?  VVc  have  only 
to  bring  our  alllictions  to  the  standard  of 
tiiat  holy  book,  and  their  character  is  in  a 
moment  changed.  The  Holy  Spirit  fore- 
saw all  our  ajiprchensions,  as  well  as  our 
sulferings  ;  and  this  is  his  language  to  us 
under  them  ;  "  Ye  have  forgotten  the  ex- 
hortation  which  speakcth  unto  you  as  unto 
children  ;  My  son,  despise  not  thou  the 
chastening  of  the  Lord,  nor  faint  when  thou 
art  rebuked  of  him  ;  for  whom  the  Lord 
loveth,  he  chasteneth  ;  and  scourgeth  every 
son  whom  he  receiveth."  "  But  not  as  we 
arc  scourged,"  you  answer.  Then  turn 
again  to  that  faithful  word  of  testimony. 
Read  in  it  the  history  of  the  church  which 
was  bought  with  blood.  Is  it  not  a  record 
of  afflictions,  such  as  you  never  witnessed  ? 
And  whose  atllictions,  whose  trials,  were 
all  these  ?  They  were  the  portion  of  men, 
"  of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy  ;"  of 
men  who,  while  on  earth,  were  the  most 
beloved  of  God,  and  who  in  heaven  are 
nearest  to  his  throne. 

When  your  troubles,  brethren,  are  more 
bitter  than  those  of  David,  more  numerous 
than  Paul's,  and  more  hard  to  be  borne 
than  the  desolate  Job's,  then  regard  them 
as  witnesses  against  you.  Till  then,  look 
on  them  rather  as  manifestations  of  kind- 
ness. They  will  not  prove  you  forgiven, 
but  they  will  prove  that  you  are  not  aban- 
doned.  They  are  no  more  the  marks  of 
condemnation,  than  the  pruning  knife  is  a 
sign  that  the  tree  must  fall.  Does  the 
refiner  often  heat  his  furnace  for  the  metal 
which  he  knows  to  be  worthless  ?  Do  you 
watch  over  and  correct  year  after  year  a 
stranger's  child  ? 

II.  To  all  this  perhaps  you  have  an 
answer  ready.  "  We  know,"  you  say, 
"  that  if  we  are  Christ's,  alllictions  are  a' 
part  of  our  inheritance.  They  alone  could 
never  excite  one  fear  in  our  souls.  This 
is  the  cause  of  our  misgivings — we  have 
no  consolations  under  them.  All  without 
us  is  trouble,  and  all  within  us  is  darkness. 
Were  we  among  the  pardoned,  would  it, 
could  it  be  thus  ?"  Turn  again  to  the  expe- 
rience of  David.  It  tells  us,  as  plainly  as  the 
most  comfortless  affliction  can  tell  us,  that  a 
want,  of  spiritual  consolation  umler  calami- 
ties is  no  evidence  of  an  unpardoned  state 


80 


THE  AFFLICTED  DAVID  A  PARDOA^ED  SINNER. 


It  is  true  that  tlie  Lord  Jesus  Christ  has  j 
taught  his  people  to  expect  special  consola- 
tions in  special  sufTerings.  It  is  true  also, 
that  their  most  atHicted  hours  have  some- 
tinnes  been  their  happiest.  But  is  it  not  as 
true  that  they  have  often  walked  in  dark- 
ness and  had  no  light  ?  Their  feelings 
under  afflictions  have  been  as  various  as 
their  afflictions  themselves.  What  ditTer- 
ent  feelings,  for  instance,  have  they  mani- 
fested a*  the  death  of  children  !  "  Blessed 
be  the  name  of  the  Lord,"  was  the  ex- 
clamation of  Job,  when  the  tidings  were 
brought  to  him  of  tlie  loss  of  all  his  off- 
spring. "  Aaron  held  his  peace,"  when 
his  two  sons  were  consumed.  The  end  of 
Hophni  and  Phineas  could  not  move  old 
Eli.  It  was  not  till  he  heard  that  the  ark 
of  God  was  taken,  that  he  fell  from  his  seat. 
But  turn  to  David.  His  infant  sickens  and 
dies.  This  was  his  first  affliction  after  his 
fall.  A  ray  of  comfort  seems  to  have 
cheered  him  under  it.  But  where  was 
David's  spiritual  joy,  when  he  "  tare  his 
garments"  at  the  news  of  Amnon's  death, 
and  "lay  on  the  earth,"  and  "wept  very 
sore?"  Did  his  consolations  abound,  when 
his  chamber  rang  with  the  sounds,  "  O  my 
son  Absalom  !  my  son,  my  son,  Absalom  ! 
Would  God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absa- 
lom, my  son,  my  son  !" 

And  think  of  the  psalms  which  are  every 
sabbath  on  our  lips.  Most  of  these  are  the 
compositions  of  this  pardoned  sinner.  Is  it 
possible  for  words  to  express  more  unmix- 
ed, comfortless  misery,  than  that  which 
gives  vent  to  its  wretchedness  there  ?  "I 
am  troubled,"  he  says  ;  "I  am  bowed  down 
greatly ;  I  go  mourning  all  the  day  long." 
"  I  am  weary  with  my  groanings  :  all  the 
night  make  I  my  bed  to  swim  ;  I  water  my 
couch  with  my  tears."  "'  How  long  wilt 
thou  forget  me,  O  Lord  ?  for  ever  ?  How 
long  wilt  thou  hide  thy  face  from  me  ?" 
And  hear  the  piteous  complaints  of  the  dis- 
consolate Hcman.  "  My  soul,"  he  says, 
"  is  full  of  trouble."  "Thou  hast  laid  me 
in  the  lowest  pit,  in  darkness,  in  the  deeps." 
"  Lord,  why  easiest  thou  off  my  soul  ? 
Why  hidest  thou  thy  face  from  me  ?"  Job 
too  bewails  departed  comforts,  and  Jere- 
miah groans  in  unbroken  darkness.  And 
shall  we  forget  the  exceeding  great  sorrow 
of  his  soul,  who  "  knew  no  sin,  neither  was 
guile  found  in  his  mouth  ?"  The  spotless 
Jesus  himself,  in  the  hour  of  his  deepest 
misery,  was  comfortless.     The  most  pier- 


cing cry  that  ever  came  from  human  lips, 
came  from  the  holiest ;  "  My  God,  my 
God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me?"'" 

III.  A  want  of  consolation  then  is  no 
proof  of  a  condemned  state :  neither,  thirdly, 
is  a  troubled  conscience. 

"  We  read  in  our  Bibles,"  say  some, 
"  that  they  who  are  justified  by  faith,  have 
peace  with  God.  We  are  told  also,  that 
they  have  peace  within  ;  that  the  blood 
which  cleanses,  quiets  them.  Christ  him- 
self promises  them  rest ;  we  see  that  some 
of  them  enjoy  it.  There  was  a  time  when 
we  ourselves  were  easy  ;  but  now  a  pris- 
oner on  the  rack  might  almost  pity  us. 
Shis  committed  months  and  years  ago,  sins 
which  we  thought  blotted  out  of  God's  re- 
membrance and  our  own  forever,  are  now 
as  fresh  in  our  memory  as  though  they  were 
not  an  hour  old.  They  follow  us  wherever 
we  go.  We  cannot  forget  them.  They 
are  a  terror  to  us  by  night,  and  a  burden 
by  day.  We  could  be  content  to  be  com- 
fortless ;  we  could  welcome  the  sharpest 
tribulations;  but  this  wounded  spirit,  this 
evil  conscience,  who  can  bear  ?  It  is  the 
scourge  of  an  angry  God  ;  it  is  a  mark  of 
his  wrath."  No,  brethren ;  an  accusing 
conscience  is  a  mark  of  nothing  but  this, 
that  you  are  sinners,  and  that  sin  is  a  more 
evil  and  bitter  thing  than  you  once  thought 
it.  It  cannot  of  itself  prove  you  forgiven, 
for  the  guilty  in  hell  are  "  tormented  in 
this  flame."  Much  less  can  it  prove  you 
condemned.  Thousands  have  groaned  un- 
der it,  who  are  now  peaceful  in  heaven; 
and  thousands  more,  who  will  soon  be  in 
heaven,  it  often  lays  on  the  ground  in  an- 
guish. 

Your  sense  of  guilt  may  be  exceedingly 
painful ;  and  so  was  David's.  The  agonies 
of  his  soul  pass  all  description.  Words 
fail  him,  as  he  attempts  to  express  them. 
In  the  thirty-eighth  psalm,  he  compares 
his  recollections  of  sin  to  arrows  darting 
into  his  flesh,  to  a  wasting  disease,  to  rank- 
ling wounds,  to  broken  and  aching  bones. 

The  sufferings  of  your  s])irit  may  be 
frequent.  His  were  constant.  "  Thine 
arrows,"  he  says,  "  stick  ftist  in  me." 
"  There  is  no  soundness  in  my  flesh,  because 
of  thine  anger  ;  neither  is  there  any  rest  in 
my  bones,  because  of  my  sins."  "  My 
sorrow  is  continually  before  me." 

"  But  David,"  you  answer,  "  was  sup- 
ported. He  had  strength  to  bear  his  misery. 
Ours  is  sometimes  overwhelming,  intoler- 


THE  AFFLICTED  DAVID  A  PARDONED  SINNER. 


81 


able."  Was  David's  light  ?  Did  he  think 
nis  aimuish  easy  to  be  borne  ?  "  Thy 
hand,"  he  cries^  "  presseth  me  sore." 
"  Mine  iniquities  are  gone  over  my  head  ; 
as  an  heavy  burden,  they  are  too  heavy  lor 
me."  •' I  "am  feeble  and  sore  broken.  I 
have  roared  by  reason  of  the  disquietness 
of  mv  heart." 

'•  But  mv  sins,"  you  reply  again,  "  are 
so  abominable,  so  loathsome  ;  the  remem- 
brance of  them  fills  me  with  self-abhor- 
rence ;  it  covers  me  with  unutterable 
shame."  Turn  once  again  to  this  troubled 
king.  "  My  wounds  stink  and  are  corrupt, 
because  of  mv  foolishness."  "  My  loins  are 
filled  witli  a  loathsome  disease."  Hear  too 
A'hat  the  astonished  Ezra  says.  "  O  my 
God.  I  am  ashamed,  and  blush  to  lift  up 
mv  face  to  thee,  my  God."  And  hear  the 
upriirht  Job.     "  I  abhor  myself." 

And  pass  from  the  prophets  of  old  to  the 
holy  men  who  wrote  our  Prayer  Book. 
Did  thev  deem  convictions  of  sin  tokens  of 
condeml)ation  ?  Why  then  have  they  la- 
bored so  much  to  keep  these  convictions 
alive  ?  Why  have  they  taught  us  to  call 
ourselves  no  fewer  than  six  times  every 
sabbath,  "  miserable  offenders,  miserable 
sinners  ?"  And  what  is  the  language  which 
they  put  into  our  lips  at  the  table  of  the  Lord  ? 
With  the  emblems  of  his  blessed  body  and 
blood  before  us — the  body  which,  they  tell 
us,  was  given,  and  the  blood  which,  they 
say,  was'shed  for  us — they  call  us  not  at 
once  to  a  song  of  exultation  or  praise. 
Thev  bid  us  bewail  our  manifold  sins ; 
they' bid  us  say  of  them  what  you,  and  such 
as  vou,  arc  the  only  persons  who  can  say 
without  a  mockery  of  heaven,  "  The  re- 
membrance of  them  is  grievous  unto  us ; 
the  burden  of  them  is  intolerable."  And 
what  perhaps  is  the  feeling  of  some  envied 
neiiihbor  who  is  kneeling  by  your  side,  or 
of  the  minister  whose  voice  is  uttering  this 
confession  in  vour  ears  ?  He  is  wishing  for 
a  more  heartfelt  sense  of  its  meaning :  he 
is  praving  for  a  greater  measure  of  the 
compunction  it  describes. 

O  happy  are  you,  if  your  only  cause  of 
fear  is  a  troubled  spirit !  Wherever  God 
bestows  a  pardon,  ho  always  fir.st  bestows 
this  ;  and  even  when  his  pardon  has  been 
welcomed  to  the  heart,  sooner  or  later  he 
generally  bestows  this  gift  again.  And  it 
is  not  a  useless  gift.  Pardon  teaches  us 
the  extent  of  .Jehovah's  mercy  ;  this  painful 
sense  of  guilt  shows  us  the  awfulness  of  his 


I  justice,  the  fearfulness  of  his  wrath.  By 
the  one,  he  exalts  himself;  by  the  other,  he 
abases  and  empties  us.  He  pardons  our 
sins,  that  we  may  be  saved  from  them  ;  he 
suffers  us  to  taste  their  wormwood  and  their 
o-all,  that  wc  may  value  salvation.  He 
Takes  us  to  heaven,  that  we  may  magnify 
his  grace  ;  he  shows  us  the  bitterness  of  sin 
in  our  way  to  it,  that  we  may  not  enter 
heaven  with  a  cold  heart  and  a  silent  tongue ; 
that  when  we  are  there,  we  may  praise  the 
Lamb  that  was  slain,  with  a  love  propor 
tioned  to  the  greatness  of  the  evil  from 
which  he  has  delivered  us,  and  with  a  fer- 
vor suited  to  the  weight  of  the  curse  which 
he  has  borne. 

It  may  be  that  even  yet  the  cause  of  your 
disquietude  has  not  been  touched.  It  is  not 
trouble,  it  is  not  darkness,  it  is  not  past 
guilt,  that  makes  you  deem  yourselves  ac- 
cursed ;  it  is  present  sin.  You  have  great 
temptations  from  without,  and  strong  corrup- 
tions within.  Satan  harasses  you.  Your 
wearied  soul  is  a  scene  of  perpetual  conflict. 
You  tell  us  that  sin,  when  remitted,  is  not 
thus  powerful  ;  that  where  Christ  is  a  Sa- 
viour, he  is  a  Sanctifier  also.  You  infer 
therefore  that  you  have  no  interest  in  his 
salvation. 

IV.  We  will  go  then  a  step  further,  and 
say,  without  fear  of  misleading  you,  that 
a  painful  seme  of  imcard  corruptions  is  not 
inconsistent  with  pardoning  mercy. 

But  let  us  be  cautious  here.  If  there  is 
any  one  lust  which,  day  after  day,  and 
year  after  year,  leads  you  captive  ;  any- 
one ungodly  practice,  in  which  you  habit- 
ually hidulgc  ;  if  the  sin  which  is  your 
fear,  is  at  the  same  time  your  delight,  ever 
committed  with  greediness,  though  some- 
times  repented  of  with  anguish;  let  an 
angel  from  heaven  declare  you  to  be  par- 
doned, we  will  appeal  to  the  written  testi- 
mony of  God,  and  say  that  the  truth  is  not 
in  him  ;  that  you  have  no  more  reason  to 
regard  yourself  forgiven,  than  a  dying  man 
has  to  think  himself  in  health.  But  if  sin 
is  opposed,  as  well  as  felt  ;  if  its  strivings 
within  you  lead  to  prayer  instead  of  iniqui- 
ty ;  if,  through  the  SpiVit,  the  base  passions 
o"f  your  nature  are  habitually  overcome  ; 
if  sin  is  your  grief  and  abhorrence,  as  well 
as  terror ;  then,  brethren,  we  are  as  sure 
as  the  Bible  can  make  us,  that  the  warfare 
in  your  soul,  though  painful,  and  tumultuous, 
and  unceasing,  is  no  mark  of  the  displeas- 
ure of  Heaven  ;  is  as  plain  a  token  as  God 


S2 


THE  AFFLICTED  DAVID  A  PARDONED  SINNER. 


can  give  you,  thcat  he  has  "  blotted  out  as  a 
thick  cloud  your  transgressions,  and  as  a 
cloud  your  sins." 

It  is  true  the  holy  Jesus  sanctifies  all  he 
redeems.  By  these  conflicts  he  is  sanctify- 
ing you.  They  will  end  in  the  victor's 
shout,  and  the  conqueror's  crown.  They 
will  end  in  the  puritj%  as  well  as  the  bless- 
edness, of  glory.  Where  is  David  now  ? 
Among  the  holiest  and  happiest  arobnd  the 
throne  of  his  God.  But  what  was  his 
state  when  on  earth  ? — his  state,  not  in  that 
awful  year  wiien  an  offended  God  gave  him 
up  to  himself,  but  his  state  when  sovereign 
mercy  "  renewed  him  again  to  repent- 
ance," and  a  messenger  from  God  had 
pronounced  him  forgiven?  He  himself 
shall  describe  it ;  "  Behold,  I  was  shapen 
in  iniquity,  and  in  sin  did  my  mother  con- 
ceive me."  And  did  none  of  this  inbred 
pollution  remain?  His  prayer  will  tell  us; 
"  Purge  me  with  hyssop,  and  I  shall  be 
clean  ;  wash  me,  and  I  shall  be  whiter 
than  snow."  "Create  in  me  a  clean  heart, 
O  God,  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me." 
"  Take  not  thy  Holy  Spirit  from  me." 

"  But  David,"  it  may  be  said,  "  was 
just  recovering  from  a  polluting  fall." 
Turn  then  to  the  blameless  Paul,  to  him  of 
whom,  after  his  conversion  to  God,  the 
Holy  Ghost  hast  not  left  on  record  one  sin 
or  one  folly.  What  says  his  experience  ?  It 
goes  further  than  we  have  yet  ventured  to 
lead  you.  "It  tells  you  that  there  may  be 
conflict  in  a  pardoned  heart ;  and  it  tells 
you  more — that  there  may  be  in  that  very 
heart,  amidst  all  its  conflicts,  a  sense  of 
forgiveness,  a  triumphant  assurance  of 
pardon.  It  tells  you  that  a  man  may  groan 
under  a  sense  of  sin,  and  yet  look  on  him- 
self as  an  heir  of  glory.  "  I  delight,"  he 
says,  "  in  the  law  of  God  after  the  inward 
man  ;  but  I  see  another  law  in  my  mem- 
bers, warring  against  the  law  of  my  mind, 
and  bringing  me  into  captivity  to  the  law  of 
sin  which  is  in  my  members.  O  wretched 
man  that  I  am  !  who  shall  deliver  me  from 
the  body  of  this  death?"  And  what  does 
he  add  ?  "I  ain  unpardoned  ;  I  am  lost?" 
No;  "  I  thank  God  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord."  And  for  what  does  he  thank 
God  ?  For  ni.s  corru[)tions  ?  for  the  dread- 
ful burden  under  which  he  groaned  ?  In 
no  wise  ; — for  a  deliverance  which  he 
foresaw  and  almost  enjoyed  ;  for  a  conquest 
which  was  so  certain,  that  he  already 
speaks  of  it  as  his  own,     "  The  sting  of 


death,"  he  says  in  another  pluce,  "  is  sm, 
and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law  ;  but 
thanks  be  to  God  which  giveth  us  the  vic- 
tory through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

Here  w^e  must  stop.  The  sum  of  all 
you  have  heard  is  briefly  this — I  am  not  to 
look  on  my  guilty  soul  as  pardoned  because 
heavy  afflictions  are  sent  me,  or  spiritual 
consolation  is  denied ;  because  a  troubled 
conscience  weighs  me  down,  or  my  own 
evil  heart  tormentti  me  ;  but  if  the  Holy 
Spirit  has  stamped  on  me  those  marks 
which  the  redeemed  have  ever  borne,  none 
of  these  things  can  weaken  their  testimony  ; 
no,  nor  all  of  them  together,  prove  me  con- 
demned. Troublea  and  comfortless,  I  am 
warranted  to  lift  up  my  wretched  eyes  to 
heaven  and  say,  "  Thou  hast  forgiven  the 
iniquity  of  thy  people,  thou  hast  covered  all 
their  sin." 

But  who,  under  such  discouragements, 
can  raise  his  confidence  so  high  ?  We  can 
listen  to  the  Christian  minister  or  friend 
who  tells  us  that  these  things  ought  not  to 
cast  us  down.  It  is  easy  to -understand  his 
reasoning,  and  impossible  perhaps  to  gain- 
say one  of  his  words ;  but  what  good  has 
he  done  us  ?  What  hope  has  he  kindled  in 
our  souls  ?  None.  Our  sins  are  as  heavy 
as  though  he  had  not  uttered  a  A\ord,  our 
hearts  as  sinking,  our  misgivings  as  strong. 
Learn  here  then  the  importance  of  a  simple 
faith  in  the  Redeemer'' s  hJood. 

There  are  times,  brethren,  when  every 
effort  to  discover  our  interest  in  the  divine 
mercy  will  fail  us.  Sin  may  cloud  the 
evidences  of  our  safety  ;  or  the  Holy  Spirit, 
for  gracious  purposes,  may  cease  to  shine 
on  them  ;  or  infirmity  of  body  or  mind  may 
hide  them  from  our  sight.  We  may  search 
our  hearts  till  they  ache  in  the  work  ;  we 
may  compare  ourselves  with  one  pardoned 
transgressor  after  another,  and  the  only 
fruit  of  our  inquiries  may  be  thicker  dark- 
ness, more  painful  uncertainty.  How  then, 
in  these  straits,  shall  wc  act  ?  Mark  how 
David  acted.  He  applied  to  Jehovah  for 
pardon.  At  first,  he  examined,  he  rea- 
soned, he  "took  counsel,"  as  he  says,  in 
his  soul  ;  but  what  could  reasoning  do  for  a 
sinner  like  him  ?  What  could  self  examina- 
tion do,  but  unveil  to  him  more  dishearten- 
ing views  of  his  crimes  ?  He  tells  us  that 
these  things  did  nothing  to  comfort  him, 
that  he  had  "  sorrow  in  his  heart  daily." 
He  flies  at  length  as  a  poor,  sunk,  helpless 
transgressor,  to  liis  God,  and  throws  liinv 


THE  AFFLICTED  DAVID  A  PARDONED  SINNER, 


83 


self  on  his  mercy.  He  seeks  peace  through 
pardon.  "  Have  mercy  upon  me,  O  God," 
he  says,  "  according  to  thy  loving  kindness, 
according  unto  the  multitude  of  thy  tender 
mercies,  hlot  out  my  transgressions.  Wash 
me  thoroughly  from  mine  iniquity,  and 
cleanse  me  from  my  sin."  And  what  fol- 
lowed ?  Years  perhaps  of  sorrow ;  but 
before  he  died,  his  guilty  lips  spake  yet 
again  of  pardoning  grace  ;  "  Blessed  is  he 
whose  transgression  is  forgiven,  whose  sin 
is  covered."  And  on  his  dying  bed,  we 
see  him  calmly  reposing  in  the  covenant 
and  salvation  of  his  God. 

TiOt  us  follow  his  footsteps.  Cease  for  a 
wliile,  bretin-cn,  from  your  wearisome  in- 
quiries into  your  own  state.  If  they  have 
discovered  to  you  how  little  you  can  do  for 
yourselves,  how  utterly  unable  you  are  to 
obtain  present  peace,  much  less  everlasting 
salvation,  they  have  done  their  work.  It 
is  a  blessed  work.  Amid  conflicts  and 
fears,  they  are  not  likely  to  do  more.  Nor 
need  they.  The  great  Saviour  of  sinners 
is  both  able  and  willing  to  accomplish  all 
you  desire.  Look  out  of  yourselves  to 
him.  7\.nd  for  what  purpose  ?  For  the 
very  same  purpose  that  David,  and  Paul, 
and  all  who  are  in  heaven,  have  look- 
ed to  him  ;  for  the  same  purpose  that  you 
yourselves  have  looked  to  him  in  the  days 
that  are  gone — for  the  remission  of  your 
sins.  Instead  of  asking  whether  you  are 
pardoned  or  lost,  cast  yourselves  at  the  feet 
of  him  by  whom  all  the  lost  may  be  par- 
doned, and  in  whom  only  the  pardoned  can 
be  safe.  Approach  him  as  sinners  ;  as 
sinners,  embrace  anew  Ins  promises  ;  as 
sinners,  hope  in  his  mercy,  and  righteous- 
ness, and  blood.  This  is  the  way  to  heaven, 
and  there  is  no  other  way  to  hope  or  quiet- 
ness on  earth.  In  the  very  first  moment 
in  \\hich  the  assurance  will  not  prove  a 
curse  to  you,  he  will  send,  not  a-  prophet, 
but  liis  Holy  Spirit  to  say  to  you,  in  a  voice 
which  vou  cannot  misunderstand,  "  The 
Lord  hath  put  away  thy  sin."  "  Thy  sins 
are  forgiven  thee." 

There  is  a  lesson  also  here  for  thrjjcace- 
fill  Chrislian.  Are  you  free  from  the  fears 
wiiich  perplex  many  of  your  brethren  ? 
Do  you  live  in  the  enjoyment  of  "  a  good 
hope  through  grace  ?"  Tlien  look  on  Da- 
vid, and  behold  what  havoc  sin  can  occasion 
in  the  nohlest  mind. 

There  was  a  time  when  this  was  the 


happiest  of  men.  He  had  his  troubles,  but 
there  was  no  sting  in  them  ;  he  did  not 
lieed  them.  His  song  from  day  to  day  was 
a  song  of  joy,  of  thankfulness  for  mercies 
l)ast,  and  of  the  liveliest  hope  of  higher 
mercies  yet  to  come.  But  turn  your  eyes 
on  "  the  sweet  psalmist  of  Israel"  now.  O 
what  a  mournful  change  !  Not  a  single 
note  of  happiness  comes  from  that  once 
cheerful  harp.  All  is  complaint,  distrac- 
tion, and  misery.  And  what  has  wrought 
this  change  ?  That  accursed  thing  which 
can  turn  a  paradise  into  a  desert.  The 
man  has  been  feeding  on  ashes.  He  has 
forgotten  on  his  throne  the  law  which  was 
so  dear  to  him  in  the  fields  of  Bethlehem, 
and  on  the  mountains  of  Judea.  Sin  has 
poisoned  his  happiness  ;  it  has  made  him  a 
wreck.  Look  not  at  his  wretched  family 
in  order  to  see  wiiat  this  tremendous  evil 
can  do.  Look  not  at  his  dying  babe,  his 
injured  daughter,  his  wicked  sons,  his  mur- 
dered Amnon,  his  lost  Absalom.  Look  not 
at  the  monarch  driven  by  his  own  child 
from  his  throne,  and  followed  with  the 
curses  of  a  rebel,  as  he  flies,  weeping  and 
barefoot,  to  the  wilderness.  Look  at  the 
ravages  of  sin  within  that  man.  What  has 
it  done  there  ?  It  has  ruined  a  peace 
which  God  himself  had  given  him  from 
above  ;  it  has  put  an  end  to  a  joy  which 
was  almost  divine  ;  it  has  darkened  the 
hopes  which  once  soared  to  heaven.  It  has 
done  more.  It  has  made  reflection  a  ter- 
ror to  him,  conscience  a  scourge,  life  bur- 
densome, death  dreadful.  It  has  thrown 
down  the  once  firm,  spiritual,  towering 
mind  of  David,  and  turned  it  into  a  ruin. 

Where  then  is  the  mind  which  can  open 
itself  to  sin,  and  not  be  overthrown  by  it  ? 
Not  yours,  brethren  ;  not  mine  ; '  no,  nor 
an  angel's.  It  would  be  easier  to  bear  the 
ravages  of  the  plague,  and  not  be  weak- 
ened ;  easier  to  pass  through  the  flames  of 
a  furnace,  and  escape  unhurt.  Sin  never 
brings  guilt  on  a  Cliristian's  conscience, 
without  bringing  pollution  into  his  mind ; 
without,  in  the  end,  weakening  its  powers, 
debasing  its  affections,  blasting  its  hopes, 
and  withering  its  joys.  Would  you  con- 
tinue happy  ?  Continue  holy.  "  Remem- 
ber David  and  all  ids  troubles."  Keep 
your  hearts  "  with  all  diligence."  "  Watch 
and  pray  that  ye  enter  not  into  temptation." 
"  Walk  in  the  Spirit."  "  Let  the  peace 
of  God  rule  in  your  hearts." 


84 


THE  MESSAGE  SENT  TO  PAUL  IN  THE  STORM. 


SERMON    XVI. 

THE  MESSAGE  SENT  TO  PAUL  IN  THE 
STORM. 

Acts  xxvii.  23,  24. 

There  stood  by  ine  tliix  ni<rht  the  angel  of  God, 
whose  J  am  arid  whom  I  serve,  saying,  Fear 
not,  Paul  ;  thou  must  be  brought  before  Ccasar. 

A  Christian  can  often  bring  hope,  where 
other  men  can  bring  none.  His  fellow-sin- 
ners make  light  of  him  ;  perhaps  they  do 
him  much  wrong  ;  but  when  trouble  comes, 
they  learn  his  value.  They  genei'ally  find 
him  to  be  tb.eir  best  comforter,  and  some- 
times their  only  friend. 

Paul  was  now  in  the  hands  of  his  ene- 
mies. They  were  carrying  him  as  a  pris- 
oner from  Jerusalem  to  R.ome.  In  their 
way  thither,  they  encountered  a  storm, 
which  raged  so  violently  and  long,  that  all 
hope  of  safety  was  at  last  gone.  And  now 
was  the  time  for  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to 
put  honor  upon  his  persecuted  servant,  and 
to  bring  glory  to  himself.  He  sends  down 
an  angel  from  heaven  to  assure  him  of  his 
safety.  He  tells  him  too,  that,  for  his  sake, 
every  life  in  the  vessel  should  be  preserved. 
And  then  the  apostle  comes  forth,  and  pro- 
claims to  his  despairing  companions  the 
joyful  tidings  he  had  received. 

I.  If  we  would  make  his  words  useful  to 
ourselves,  we  must  bear  in  mind  the  char- 
acter of  the  man  who  spoke  them.  Let  us 
begin  then  with  ihe  description  which  the 
apostle  has  here  given  us  of  hiinself. 

This  is  short,  but  it  is  full  of  meaning ; 
so  humble,  that  the  meanest  Christian  may 
lay  claim  to  it  ;  and  yet  so  honorable,  that 
the  most  aspiring  can  wish  for  nothing 
higher.  It  seems  indeed  to  be  the  very 
description  which  an  angel  would  rejoice 
to  own.  Were  one  of  those  exalted  beings 
asked  to  tell  us  of  his  glory  and  his  great- 
ness, wliat  could  he  do  more,  than  take  up 
the  language  of  this  storm-tossed  voyager, 
point  to  the  throne  of  the  Holy  One,  and 
say,  "  His  I  am,  and  him  I  serve  ?" 

1.  All  the  creatures  which  his  hands 
have  formed,  are  God's  ;  but  Paul  was  his 
in  a  special  manner,  in  the  same  peculiar 
sense  in  which  his  own  heaven  and  throne 
are  called  his. 

If  we  ask  how  he  became  so,  he  himself 
informs  us.  "  By  the  grace  of  God,"  he 
gays,  "I  am  what  I  am."     There  was  a 


time  when  he  was  the  slave  of  sin,  and  con- 
sequently  the  property  of  Satan,  "a  blas- 
phemer and  a  persecutor  ;"  no  more  the 
Lord's,  than  the  spirits  of  the  lost  are  his. 
The  glory  of  the  Saviour  seemed  to  require 
his  destruction  ;  the  church  perhaps  expect- 
ed it ;  but  he  had  long  been  set  apart  to 
give  to  mercy  a  more  glorious  triumph  than 
vengeance  co.uld  have  found  in  him.  In 
the  evei-lasting  covenant  of  grace,  this  very 
Saul  had  been  given  to  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  as  one  whom  he  was  to  redeem  and 
save.  He  did  redeem  him  ;  he  bought  him 
with  his  own  most  precious  blood,  and  made 
him  all  his  own.  In  order  to  show  how 
much  sin  he  can  pardon,  how  much  en- 
mity subdue,  and  how  much  grace  impart, 
he  first  laid  this  persecutor  trembling  at  his 
feet,  and  then  sent  him  through  the  world, 
to  labor,  and  suffer,  and  die,  for  his  name's 
sake. 

2.  Paul  also  well  knew  the  mercy  which 
he  had  obtained,  and  the  end  for  which  he 
was  destined.  The  grace  bestowed  on  him 
"  was  not  in  vain."  He  gave  himself  to 
the  Lord,  who  had  so  freely  chosen  and 
redeemed  him.  Hence  he  goes  on  to  say 
that  he  "  served"  him. 

We  all  know  what  it  is  to  serve  the 
world.  It  is  to  have  our  hearts  much  taken 
up  with  it,  to  be  very  careful  and  troubled 
about  it,  to  toil  early  and  late  for  what  it 
has  to  give.  What  is  there,  which  some 
of  us  will  not  do  for  the  sake  of  this  poor 
world  ?  If  need  be,  we  would  wear  our- 
selves out  in  its  service.  So  the  apostle 
served  Christ,  He  made  his  glory  the 
great  business  of  his  life.  Keeping  ever  in 
his  remembrance  the  price  at  which  he  had 
been  bought,  he  felt  that  he  was  not  his  own, 
that  he  was  the  Lord's,  entirely  and  con- 
stantly the  Lord's,  and  therefore  bound  tc 
"  glorify  him  with  his  body  and  with  his 
spirit,  which  were  his." 

Such  was  Paul,  and  such  is  every  real 
Christian.  H^e  has  obtained  the  san)e  mer- 
cy, the  same  eternal,  free,  and  rich  grace, 
that  this  man  found  ;  and  it  produces  in 
him  the  same  effects.  If  then  I  would 
know  whose  I  am,  let  me  only  ask  myself. 
Whom  do  I  serve  ?  Where  is  my  heart  ? 
Is  it  with  Christ  in  heaven  ?  or  is  it  tied 
down  to  my  enjoyments,  or  cares,  or  griefs, 
on  earth  ?  What  is  my  life  ?  Is  it  a  cease- 
less toiling  to  get  more  of  the  world  ?  or  is 
it  something  higher  and  better  ?  a  daily 
crucifixion  to  the  world,  a  living  unto  God, 


THE  MESSAGE  SENT  TO  PAUL  IN  THE  STORM. 


85 


a  preparation  for  the  work  and  pleasures 
of  the  skies? 

II.  Consider,  in  the  next  place,  the  situa- 
tion of  the  apostle  at  this  time.  And  tin's 
was  not  the  situation  in  which  we  might 
have  supposed  the  Lord  would  place  one 
who  was  so  dear  to  him,  and  who  so  faith- 
fully served  him.  He  is  the  Lord's,  and 
yet  he  is  in  tlie  power  of  heathen  persecu- 
tors. He  served  the  Lord,  and  yet  the  very 
winds  and  waves  which  the  Lord  com- 
mands, are  threatening  to  destroy  him. 
Jonah  met  with  a  storm,  hut  he  A\'as  flying 
from  his  work.  Paul  is  in  a  tempest  on  his 
way  to  fresh  labors  in  his  Master's  service. 

1.  We  learn  here  that  710  dcvotedness  to^ 
Christ  will  save  us  from  tribulation. 

Many  of  our  afflictions  are  sent  to  re- 
prove us  for  our  want  of  this  devotedness  ; 
to  stir  us  up ;  to  remind  us  of  neglected 
duties  and  foi'gotten  vows.  But  very  severe 
trials  will  sometimes  come  upon  us,  when 
our  hearts  arc  most  constrained  by  a  Sa- 
viour's love,  when  we  seem  to  be  doing,  and 
risking,  and  suffering,  all  we  can  for  Christ. 

Our  love  for  liim  brings  on  us  the  ill  usage 
of  the  world.  We  bear  it,  for  we  expect 
him  to  smile  on  us,  to  recompense  us  for  the 
world's  hatred  by  peculiar  tokens  of  his  re- 
gard ;  and  our  expectation  is  in  general 
realized.  But  sometimes  in  the  hour  of 
persecution,  he  hides  his  face  from  us.  He 
does  more.  He  sends  us  tribulation.  He 
wounds,  even  when  Satan  harasses  and  the 
world  smites. 

2.  We  are  taught  also  here,  that  some  of 
the  trials  with  which  tJie  Lord  visits  his  peo- 
ple, seem  to  hinder  rather  than  fulfil  his  de- 
signs and  promises. 

It  was  the  will  of  Christ,  that  Paul  should 
preach  his  gospel  at  Ronif.  His  apostle 
knew  this.  But  from  time  to  time,  various 
circumstances  arose,  which  threatened  to 
defeat  the  divine  purpose.  They  were 
overruled,  and  Paul  at  length  is  safe  in  a 
vessel  which  is  carrying  him  with  a  fair 
wind  to  Rome.  WIio  now  can  hinder  the 
fulfilment  of  the  Saviour's  promise  ?  The 
Saviour  himself  hinders  it.  He  raises 
against  this  vessel  a  tempest,  which  drives 
it  from  its  course,  and  is  now  ready  to  over- 
whelm it. 

It  is  often  thus.  Some  of  the  afflictions 
which  arc  sent  us  from  heaven,  appear  for  a 
longtime  asthougli  they  would  turn  us  from 
the  way  to  hc«aven.  They  discourage  us. 
They  obstruct  our  usefulness.     They  bring 


to  naught  our  best-laid  schemes  for  the  Re- 
deemer's glory.  Tiicy  force  us  to  cease  from 
this  or  that  work  which  had  begun  to  prosper 
in  our  hands,  and  which  we  had  almost  per- 
suaded  ourselves  the  Lord  had  pledged  liim- 
self  to  bless.  Look  at  the  pious  parent.  He 
is  laid  pehaps  for  years  on  a  bed  of  suffering, 
hardly  able  to  speak  to  the  children  whom 
he  longs  to  train  up  for  God.  The  strength 
of  the  faithful  minister  deserts  him  in  his 
work.  He  can  do  no  more  than  look  on 
and  weep,  where  he  had  been  among  the 
first  to  labor  and  rejoice.  The  zealous  mis- 
sionary sickens  and  dies  among  the  heathen 
whom  he  had  forsaken  all  to  save. 

What  use  then  are  we  to  make  of  these 
truths?  They  hid  us  expect  storms.  Tliey 
tell  us  that  if  ever  we  reach  heaven,  we 
must  pass  to  it  over  an  ocean  where  no 
one  ever  yet  found  rest,  an  ocean  wjiich 
the  Lord  himself  often  disturbs. 

We  are  ready  to  ascribe  our  trials  to 
ourselves,  and  xnany  of  them,  yea,  most  of 
them,  are  undoubtedly  of  our  own  creating  ; 
our  sins  are  their  authors.  But  the  winds 
which  tossed  Paul,  were  not  raised  by 
Paul's  sins.  They  were  sent  forth  by 
another  hand. 

We  are  prone  also  to  blame  others  for 
what  we  suffer.  W^e  trace  our  troubles  to 
the  situations  in  which  we  are  placed,  or  to 
the  persons  with  whom  we  are  connected. 
We  may  be  in  part  right ;  but  let  us  wait 
.awhile.  Circumstances  may  alter.  We 
may  be  as  far  from  all  tlie  pei'sons  and 
things  that  now  pain  us,  as  though  they  had 
ceased  to  exist.  But  are  our  troubles  gone  ? 
In  no  wise.  They  have  changed  their 
form  ;  but  we  have  troubles  still,  as  real 
and  great  as  ever.  Paul  is  in  danger  of 
his  life  from  the  persecuting  Jews.  He 
appeals  to  Ccesar,  and  escapes  their  malice. 
But  where  is  he  now  ?  On  a  raging  sea, 
in  an  almost  foundering  bark.  Is  his  life 
safe  ?  Every  billow  seems  to  rise  for  his 
destruction. 

The  fact  is,  wq  are  not  only  in  a  world 
of  trouble,  but,  if  we  are  the  Lord's,  we 
are  the  .servants  of  a  Master  who  was  him- 
self a  man  of  sorrows,  and  who  is  fieternn'ned 
to  make  his  people  like  him.  What  did  he 
say  of  Paul  when  he  first  made  him  his 
own  ?  "I  will  show  him  how  great  things 
he  must  suffer  for  my  name's  sake."  He 
says  the  same  to  all  his  disciples  ;  "  Ye 
shall  have  tril)ulation."  Look  at  the  cove- 
nant which  he  has  formed  with  his  chosen. 


86 


THE  MESSAGE  SENT  TO  PAUL  IN  THE  STORM 


What  read  we  there?  An  exemption  fVoin 
sorrow  ?  No.  Among  the  blessings  which 
it  promises,  stands  this — written  in  charac- 
ters so  plain,  that  he  who  runs  may  read 
it  —  "  tribulation,"'  ""  much  tribulation."' 
Hence  David  ascribes  some  of  his  bitter 
suficrings,  not  to  the  vengeance,  no,  nor 
even  to  the  fatherly  love  of  his  God,  but 
to  his  faithfulness.  "  I  know,  O  Lord, 
that  thy  judgments  are  right,  and  that  thou 
in  faithfulness  hast  afflicted  mc."  And 
the  more  the  Lord  loves  any  of  his  servants, 
tiie  more  of  this  tribulation  they  are  likely 
to  receive  ;  so  that  if  we  would  find  the 
))eople  whom  he  most  delights  to  honor,  w^e 
must  look  for  them  where  we  here  find  Paul, 
in  storms  ;  where  we  so  often  find  David,  in 
the  lowest  depths ;  where  Christ  himself  was 
found,  in  poverty,  in  reproach,  in  sorrows. 
But  none  of  them  are  forsaken  there. 

III.  Consider  the  message  wliich  loas  sent 
to  the  apostle  loliile  he  was  tossing  on  the 
waves. 

1.  The  first  circumstance  remarkable 
in  this,  is  the  person  who  received  it. 

Why  was  Paul  the  only  one  in  this 
crowded  ship,  to  whom  the  angel  said, 
"  Fear  not  ?"  There  were  others  in  it 
who  were  the  Lord's.  Luke,  we  know, 
was  there,  and  yet  no  angel  comes  to  cheer 
Luke's  heart  in  this  trying  hour.  We  may 
wonder  for  a  moment  at  this  seeming  par- 
tiality, but  there  was  no  injustice  in  it. 

It  is  the  righteous  will  of  Christ  to  give 
his  richest  consolations  to  his  most  devoted 
servants. 

Comfort,  as  well  as  pardon,  is  all  of  grace. 
In  administering  it,  "  the  God  of  all  com- 
fort" acts  just  as  he  acts  in  dispensing 
pardon — like  a  sovereign  who  "  divideth 
to  every  man  severally  as  he  will."  And 
yet  he  acts  also  like  a  God  of  faithfulness. 
He  suffers  some  of  his  people  to  mourn 
while  others  rejoice — we  see  and  own  his 
sovereignty ;  and  then  he  manifests  the 
equity  of  his  ways,  by  making  the  holiest 
of  his  servants  the  happiest.  "  Tliem  that 
honor  me,"  he  says,  "  I  will  honor  ;"  and 
in  the  time  of  trouble,  he  fulfils  his  prom- 
ise. He  shows  that  he  loves  llicni  nujst, 
who  serve  him  best. 

2.  But  turn  from  the  man  who  received 
this  consolation,  to  liie  messenger  who  hrought 
it. 

The  Lord  generally  comforts  them  that 
are  his,  by  means  of  their  fellow-sufferers. 
Thus  he  had  often  co)nforied  Paul.     But  in 


this  stormy  and  fearful  night,  he  sends  down 
to  him  a  comforter  from  heaven.  "  There 
stood  by  me  this  night  the  angel  of  God. 
saying.  Fear  not." 

And  what  does  the  appearance  of  this 
angel  teach  us  ?  A  most  encouraging  truth 
— They  who  svjfer  for  Christ,  generally  ob- 
tain the  most  signal  marks  of  his  favor 
when  they  suffer  the  most.  In  peculiar  trials, 
they  have  peculiar  consolations.  The  rea- 
son is  plain — they  most  need  them  in  those 
seasons.  And  not  only  so,  but  they  most 
seek  them.  Affliction  brings  sin  to  remem- 
brance. The  remembrance  of  sin  weighs 
down  the  soul :  and  then,  sinking  and  trem- 
bling, it  is  forced  to  turn  again  in  its 
anguish  to  its  crucified  Lord.  We  go  to 
liim  for  pardon ;  he  gives  us  pardon,  and, 
with  pardon,  quietness  and  rest. 

Besides,  trouble  makes  us  feel  our  weak- 
ness. It  shows  us  too  the  weakness  of  all 
around  us.  It  lays  bare  the  emptiness  of 
all  earthly  comforts,  and  the  feebleness  of 
all  earthly  props.  We  look  within  and 
without  for  relief,  and  there  is  none.  Refuge 
fails  us.  We  are  constrained  to  cast  our- 
selves on  Christ.  And  though  we  go  to  him 
as  our  last  Friend,  we  find  him  our  best. 
He  thiidvs  of  his  own  past  sorrows,  and  lie 
pities  ours.  Pie  upholds  us  ;  he  gives  us 
strength  to  suffer.  Sometimes  he  does  more. 
He  pours  into  our  hearts  a  consolation  so 
refreshing,  so  quieting,  so  unutterably 
sweet,  that  we  bless  the  trouble  ^Nhich  has 
made  it  ours. 

Are  you  strangers  to  affliction,  brctlivcn  ? 
Then  are  you  strangers  to  some  of  the  liii^h- 
est  consolations  that  are  known  on  earth. 
A  man  can  never  fully  understand  how 
Christ  can  comfort,  till  he  has  tried  him  in 
the  depths  of  sorrow,  till  he  has  taken  to 
him  a  wearied,  bleeding,  and  almost  burst- 
ing heart,  which  none  other  can  ease  or 
heal. 

Turn  to  the  saints  of  old.  An  angel  was 
repeatedly  sent  down  to  Daniel ;  and  where 
did  he  find  him  ?  At  one  time,  in  a  den  of 
lions ;  at  another  time,  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes,  mourning  over  the  transgressions  of 
Israel.  The  aged  John  is  banished  to 
Patmos.  He  had  before  seen  the  Son  of 
man  in  liis  humiliation  ;  he  sees  him  there 
in  his  greatness.  Look  at  Saint  Stephen. 
While  surrounded  with  the  betrayers  and 
murderers  of  his  Lord,  the  heavens  sudden- 
ly open  before  his  wondering  eyes,  and 
show  him  al-1  the  glorv  of  God,  and  his  cru- 


THE  MESSAGE  SENT  TO  PAUL  IN  THE  STORM. 


87 


cified  I\'aster  stanilinjr,  as  thoiirrh  waiting  to 
receive  him,  at  his  side.  Paul's  own  ex- 
perience was  the  same.  As  tlie  "sutlerings 
of  Christ  ahound  in  us,"  said  he,  "so  our 
consolation  also  aboundeth  by  Christ." 

But  we  need  not  go  to  prophets,  apos- 
tles, and  martyrs.  Some  of  you  have  had 
in  your  own  hearts  a  confirmation  of  this 
truth.  When  have  you  seen  most  clearly 
that  you  are  tlie  Lord's  ?  Which  of  your 
days  on  earth  have  resembled  most  the  day 


of hea\ 


Have  they  not  been  those  when 


the  God  who  loves  you,  has  brought  you 
the  most  low  ?  when  other  comforters  and 
other  refuges  have  all  given  way,  and  you 
have  been  sinking  ?  Has  not  aflliction  found 
you  cheerless  and  left  you  happy  ?  By 
quickening  your  faith  and  warming  your 
love,  has  it  not  revived  the  hopes  which  had 
languished,  and  the  joys  which  had  well- 
nigh  withered  ?  In  a  word,  have  there  not 
been  times,  in  which,  like  the  ark  of  Noah, 
you  have  been  raised  higher  and  higher 
towards  heaven,  as  the  floods  have  lifted 
themselves  up  and  increased  ? 

And  what  does  all  this  say  to  you  ?  It 
tells  you  to  look  on  aflliction  as  the  fore- 
runner of  mercy,  to  expect  signal  blessings 
in  signal  calamities  ;  not  to  give  up  all  for 
lost,  when  the  clouds  gather,  and  the  winds 
rise,  and  the  tempest  lowers,  but  to  wait 
with  patience  for  that  still  small  voice, 
which  will  sooner  or  later  be  heard  in  the 
storm,  saying  unto  you,  "  Fear  not." 

3.  There  is  one  point  more  to  be  noticed 
in  the  message  sent  to  the  apostle — the  piir- 
jjort  of  it. 

Though  brought  from  heaven  in  so  unu- 
sual a  manner,  if  we  except  the  promise  of 
safety  for  his  companions,  there  was  noth- 
ing new  in  it.  It  amounted  to  no  more  than 
this,  "  Thou  must  be  brought  before  Cgb- 
sar."  "  Thou  shalt  go  safe  to  Rome." 
And  with  this  purpose  of  his  Lord,  Paul 
was  already  acquainted.  Before  he  left 
Jerusalem,  Christ  himself  stood  by  him  and 
said,  "  Be  of  good  cheer,  Paul  ;  tor  as  thou 
hast  testified  of  me  in  Jerusalem,  so  must 
thou  bear  witness  also  at  Rome."  Here 
also  is  instruction. 

The  Lord  often  comforts  the  afflicted,  hy 
simply  reminding  them  of  his  jiromises. 

Wo  need  no  voice  from  heaven,  in  order 
to  make  us  happy.  There  is  enough  in 
the  Bible  to  cause  every  heart  in  this 
wretched  world  to  burn  with  joy.  No  an- 
gel could  bring  to  us  more  gracious  tidings 


than  are  published  there.  We  are  told  of 
j)ar(l()n  lor  the  guilty,  sanctilication  for  the 
polluted,  rest  for  the  burdened  soul,  salva- 
tion for  the  lost,  Christ  for  a  Comforter, 
heaven  for  a  home.  And  we  are  told  of 
these  things  for  this  express  purpose,  to  give 
us  consolation.  So  Paul  himself  informs 
us  ;  "  Whatsoever  things  were  written 
aforetime,  were  written  tor  our  learning, 
that  we,  through  patience  and  comfort  of  the 
scriptures,  might  have  hope." 

If  then  we  are  comfortless  in  trouble,  the 
fault  lies  in  ourselves.  We  forget  our  Bi- 
bles. Either  we  do  not  remember,  or  we 
do  not  believe  the  promises  of  Christ.  In 
compassion  therefore  to  our  infirmities,  the 
Saviour  recalls  our  attention  to  these  promi- 
ses, not  by  means  of  an  angel,  but  by  a 
higher  messenger,  the  Holy  Ghost.  He 
"  opens  our  understandings,  that  we  may 
understand"  them  ;  he  opens  our  hearts  to 
believe  them.  How  did  he  comfort  his 
sorrowful  disciples  in  their  way  to  Em- 
maus  ?  "  He  expounded  unto  them  in  all 
the  scriptures  the  things  concerning  him- 
self." And  how,  brethren,  has  he  com- 
forted you  ?  You  have  been  in  trouble. 
At  first  perhaps  you  were  exceedingly  cast 
down.  Afterwards  however  you  became 
tranquil,  if  not  happy.  What  wrought  this 
change  ?  In  almost  every  instance,  it  was 
wrought  by  the  word  of  God.  Some  prom- 
ise which  you  had  read  a  thousand  times 
before,  was  sent  home  for  the  first  time  to 
your  heart.  You  discovered  in  it  a  mean- 
ing and  sweetness  which  you  never  saw 
before,  which  at  once  surprised  and  glad- 
dened you.  You  felt,  as  you  thought  of  it, 
that  you  could  take  this  grateful  declaration 
of  tiie  prophet  as  your  own,  "  Thy  words 
were  found,  and  I  did  eat  them,  and  thy 
word  was  unto  me  the  joy  and  rejoicing  of 
mine  heart."  Let  your  experience  become 
your  teacher.  Go  to  the  promises  for  con- 
solation. Treasure  them  up  in  your  memo- 
ry. Live  on  them.  Learn  to  say  with  the 
rejoicing  David,  "Thy  statutes  have  been 
my  songs  in  the  house  of  my  pilgrimage." 

There  is  .still  more  in  this  history  to  claim 
your  attention.  Mark  the  credit  which 
Paul  gave  to  the  message  he  received.  It  ' 
was  prompt,  simple,  full  ;  a  taking  of  the 
great  God  at  his  word  ;  a  confident  ex- 
pecting of  the  promised  deliverance  in  the 
face  of  seen)ing  impo.ssibilities.  "  I  believe 
God,"  he  says,  "  that  it  shall  be  even  as  it 
was  told  me." 


8S 


THE  MESSAGE  SENT  TO  PAUL  IN  THE  STORM. 


And  mark  the  fruits  of  this  faith,  the  ef- 
fects it  produced.  It  kept  liim  tranquil  on 
the  billows.  Woiking  by  love,  it  made 
liini  anxious  for  the  present  comfort,  as  well 
as  the  future  deliverance  of  his  companions. 
"  Be  of  good  cheer,"  he  says  to  them  ;  "  I 
pray  you  to  take  some  meat,  for  this  is  for 
your  liealtli."  It  caused  him  to  set  a  high 
value  on  the  means  of  safety,  nay,  to  deem 
them  absolutely  neces.sary  for  their  preser- 
vation. Not  a  sailor  would  he  allow  to 
desert  the  laboring  vessel.  "  Except  these 
abide  in  the  ship,"  he  cries,  "  ye  cannot  be 
saved." 

And  mark  also  the  faithfulness  of  Paul's 
Lord.  The  ship  is  wrecked,  but  every 
passenger  is  .saved.  "  It  came  to  pass  that 
they  e.scaped  all  safe  to  land." 

Now,  brethren,  turn  to  yourselves.  Are 
you  the  Lord's  ?  Do  you  serve  him  ? 
Tiiere  is  but  little  difficulty  in  pointing  out 
those  who  are  not  the  Lord's.  All  are 
comprehended  in  this  class,  who  are  living 
"  without  God  in  the  world  ;" — such  of  you 
as  know  nothing  of  your  awful  departure 
from  him,  the  natural  enmity  of  your  hearts 
against  him,  your  close  alliance  with  his 
wretched  foe  ;  such  of  you  as  have  never 
sought  the  Redeemer's  mercy  and  the  Spir- 
it's grace  ; — such  as  have  not  torn  away 
their  hearts  from  the  world  and  sin,  and 
given  them  to  Christ  ; — not  the  ungodly, 
profane  man  only,  but  he  also  who  feels  no 
need  of  a  Saviour,  no  love  for  him,  no  zeal 
in  his  cause  ;  he  who  is  alive  in  every  thing 
that  concerns  his  own  interest  or  pleasure, 
but  dead  as  a  stone  to  whatever  concerns  a 
redeeming  Lord. 

Arc  you  men  of  this  character  ?  Then 
let  me  implore  you  to  remember  in  what  a 
world  you  are  living,  over  what  a  treach- 
erous sea  your  frail  bark  is  passing.  All 
may  be  sunshine  and  quiet  now,  but  how 
long  will  tiiecalm  last?  Perhaps  not  an 
hour.  No  angel  may  be  sent  from  heaven 
to  disturl)  it ;  but  before  this  day  shall  end, 
some  messenger  may  bring  you  tidings, 
which  will  make  your  soul  "  like  the  trou- 
bled sea  wlicn  it  cannot  rest."  And  what 
if  it  should  1)0  otherwise?  What  if  ."  to- 
morrow be  as  this  day  ?"  Will  an  hour  of 
trouble  never  come  ?  Will  your  friends 
and  children  never  die  ?  Will  sickness 
never  bring  you  low  ?  Will  a  false  world 
never  deceive  you,  nor  a  cruel  world  wound 
you  ?  There  are  miseries  even  on  this 
side  of  the  grave,  which  the  Christian,  with 


the  Bible  for  his  support  and  heaven  for  his 
hope,  sometimes  finds  it  hard  to  bear.  O 
how  can  you  bear  them,  with  no  prop  to 
lean  on,  no  refuge  to  flee  to,  no  hope  for 
your  soul  ?  And  is  not  death  at  hand,  and 
is  not  eternity  near  ?  Is  it  a  trifle,  think 
you,  to  stand  at  the  judgment-seat  of  the 
living  God  ? 

Look  at  the  case  of  these  mariners.  The 
sea  was  calm,  and  they  Avere  determined 
to  set  sail.  Paul  warned  them  ;  he  told 
them  of  future  storms  and  dano-ers  ;  but 
they  heeded  him  not.  You  know  what 
followed.  They  were  saved,  but  how  ? 
By  a  deliverance  that  was  almost  miracu- 
lous ;  there  was  not  one  among  them,  who 
would  not  have  given  all  he  possessed  to 
be  safe  on  land.  And  what  is  there  which 
you  will  not  be  ready  to  give  for  an  inter- 
est in  Christ,  when  the  hour  of  deep  afflic- 
tion, and  death,  and  judgment,  comes  ? 
What  can  you  do  without  it  ?  Where  can 
you  look  for  comfort  ?  where  for  safety  ? 
Not  to  God.  You  are  living  without  him 
now,  and  must  suffer  and  perish  Avith- 
out  him  then.  There  is  only  one  way  of 
safety  for  you  ;  "  Remember  now  "thy 
Creator,  while  the  evil  days  come  not." 
Become  at  once  the  Lord'^  and  serve  him. 
Seek  reconciliation  with  him  through  the 
blood  of  his  Son.  Instead  of  asking  with 
the  ungodly  Pharaoh,  "  Who  is  Lord  over 
us  ?"  say  with  David,  "  O  my  soul,  thou 
hast  said  unto  the  Lord,  Thou  art  my 
Lord." 

Has  the  Lord  already  made  you  his 
own  ?  Then  this  probably  is  the  scripture 
which  often  seems  to  describe  you  best — 
"  afflicted,  tossed  with  tempest,  and  not 
comforted."  What  think  you  in  such  sea- 
sons of  the  consolations  of  Christ  ?  Do  vou 
seek  them  ?  Do  you  expect  them  ?  I\Iany 
of  us  must  answer.  No.  W^e  tliink  of  them 
when  we  enjoy  them,  when  we  compara- 
tively but  little  need  them  ;  but  when  our 
need  is  the  greatest,  when  the  storm  rises, 
we  lose  .sight  of  them  in  clouds  and  dark- 
ness. Like  Peter,"  we  look  on  the  bois- 
terous waves,  till  we  can  no  longer  see  him 
who  rules  them.  The  consequence  is, 
"  we  are  afraid  ;"  we  are  wretciied  wlicn 
we  might  be  calm. 

We  must  struggle  against  this  evil,  breth- 
ren. Despondency  can  in  no  case  be  use- 
ful. On  the  contrary,  it  is  in  every  case 
injurious  ;  it  is  paralyzing,  chilling,  tor- 
menting.    And  how  is  it  to  be  overcome  ? 


THE  CONDESCENSION  OF  GOD. 


89 


Only  in  one  way — by  a  more  simple  and 
lively-faith  in  the  promises  of  heaven.  And 
of  these,  this  is  the  first  and  greatest,  "  Thou 
shalt  be  saved."  And  what  is  salvation  ? 
A  long  eternity  with  Christ  at  the  close  of 
a  life  which  is  perhaps  already  far  spent. 
What  can  we  desire  more  ?  But  more  is 
provided  for  us.  We  are  promised  refresh- 
ments in  the  storm,  as  well  as  a  quiet  and 
secure  haven  at  the  end  of  it.  Our  pres- 
ent portion  is  not  made  up  of  troubles  only. 
He  who  bought  us  with  his  blood,  lias  pur- 
chased comforts  to  gladden,  as  well  as  sor- 
rows to  humble  us.  They  are  all  in  his 
covenant  of  grace.  He  calls  upon  us  to 
think  of  them,  to  seek  them,  to  expect  them. 
He  has  told  us  that  we  shall  have  them. 
He  has  promised  us,  not  the  short  visit  of 
an  angel,  but  his  own  immediate,  constant 
presence.  It  is  his  own  voice  which  says 
to  us  in  the  darkness,  "  Fear  not,  for  I  am 
with  thee."  His  own  lips  have  declared, 
nay,  his  own  hand  has  written  the  gracious 
words,  "  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  for- 
sake thee." 

Let  the  winds  blow,  then,  and  let  the  rain 
descend  and  the  billows  swell ;  let  all  with- 
out be  commotion,  and  all  within  be  weak- 
ness ;  where  is  the  servant  of  Christ,  who 
will  not  say  with  the  tempest-driven  Paul, 
"  I  believe  God,  and  am  comforted  ?  He 
has  made  me  his  own  ;  and  he  will  not  for- 
sake the  work  of  his  own  hands.  He  has 
given  me  many  precious  promises ;  he  has 
enabled  me  to  believe  them  ;  he  has  taught 
me  to  remember  them  ;  and  will  he  himself 
forget  them  ?  Never.  I  have  waited  for 
him,  and  he  will  save  me.  I  am  his,  and 
he  will  keep  me.  Where  he  is,  there  also 
shall  his  servants  be.  I  shall  see  his  face  ; 
these  eyes  shall  behold  my  God." 


SERMON    XVII. 

THE  CONDESCENSION  OF  GOD. 

Psalm  cxiii.  5,  6. 

Who  is  like  unto  the  Lord  our  God  who  dwellcth 
on  high,  who  humbleth  himself  to  behold  the 
things  that  are  in  heaven  and  in  the  earth  ? 

We  never  think  seriously  of  God  with- 
out feeling,  with  the  psalmist,  that  there 
"  is  none  like  unto  him."     Among  all  the 
12 


wonders  we  ever  saw  or  heard  of,  ho  is  the 
greatest. 

But  what  is  it  that  makes  God  so  wonder- 
ful  a  Being  ?  You  think  perhaps  of  the 
extent  of  his  power,  the  eternity  of  his  ex- 
istence, or  the  mysterious  nature  of  his 
person  ;  but  there  is  something  in  the  Lord 
almiglity  still  more  wonderful  than  all  tiiese. 
It  is,  brethren,  the  greatness  of  his  love,  his 
amazing  condescension.  This  drew  from 
the  fervent  David  the  burst  of  admiration 
which  we  find  in  this  text.  In  a  transport 
of  wonder  and  praise,  he  challenges  the 
universe  to  show  any  thing  comparable  to 
his  great  and  condescending  God. 

I.  We'  may  consider,  first,  the  view 
which  he  gives  us  of  iJie  divine  majesty. 

But  how  can  I  convey  or  you  receive 
any  idea  of  this  ?  We  cannot  describe  it. 
The  fault  is  not  in  language  ;  it  is  in  the 
weakness  of  our  minds.  We  are  finite 
beings,  and  any  effort  to  comprehend  infinite 
greatness  is  vain ;  just  as  vain  as  an  attempt 
to  measure  the  wide  heavens  with  a  span, 
or  to  take  up  the  ocean  in  the  hollow  of  one 
little  hand. 

Why  then  does  the  Holy  Spirit  bring 
before  us  a  subject  of  which  we  can  form 
no  just  conception  ?  Because  even  the 
poor  conceptions  of  it,  which  we  are  capa- 
ble of  forming,  are  beneficial  to  us  ;  be- 
cause we  must  perish  without  some  know- 
ledge  of  God ;  because  we  may  know 
enough  of  him  to  bring  peace  and  life 
eternal  to  the  soul. 

No  description  of  his  greatness  can  be 
more  simple  than  that  given  us  here,  but  it 
would  carry  an  angel  further  than  he  could 
follow  it.  "  The  Lord  our  God  dwelleth 
on  high." 

The  grandest  objects  of  nature  are  mostly 
above  us.  The  towering  mountain,  the 
sun,  the  moon,  the  stars,  all  carry  our  eyes 
upward.  We  have  accordingly  learned 
to  attach  the  ideas  of  magnificence  and  ex- 
cellency to  whatever  is  lofty.  Hence,  in 
condescension  to  our  mode  of  thinking,  the 
groat  Gotl  is  frequently  spoken  of  as  "  the 
high  God,"  "the  Most  High,"  "the  High- 
est." Isaiah  describes  him  as  "  sitting 
upon  a  throne  high  and  lifted  up,"  and 
calls  him  "  the  high  and  lofty  One  who 
inhabiteth  eternity." 

In  tiie  verse  preceding  the  text,  the  in- 
spired psalmist  tells  us  something  of  the 
measure  of  his  exaltation.  "The  Lord," 
he  says,  "  is  high  above  all  nations,  and 


90 


THE  CONDESCENSION  OF  GOD. 


his  glory  above  the  heavens."  He  first 
bids  us  look  on  this  lower  world  ;  and  while 
we  are  admiring  its  convenience,  its  vast- 
ness,  and  its  grandeur,  he  says,  "  The  Lord 
dwells  not  there  ;  tlie  Lord  is  high  above 
all  nations."  He  then  lifts  up  our  eyes  to 
the  worlds  that  roll  in  light ;  and  as  we 
see  them  shining  far  away  in  their  magni- 
ffcence,  we  are  ready  to  say  that  in  some 
one  of  these  bright  orbs  is  the  dwelling- 
place  of  God.  But  no.  Again  the  pro- 
phet says,  "  The  Lord  is  not  there.  His 
glory  is  above  the  heavens."  Stupendous 
as  is  their  height,  they  come  not  nigh  the 
footstool  of  Jehovah's  throne.  Were  we 
standing  on  the  summit  of  them  all,  the  dis- 
tance between  him  and  us  would  still  be 
immeasurable  ;  our  minds  must  still  be 
stretched,  and  our  imaginations  strained,  to 
discover  his  abode. 

View  the  matter  in  another  light.  Look 
at  a  little  insect  as  it  flutters  in  the  air,  or 
crawls  on  the  ground.  Think  of  its  short 
life,  and  frail  texture,  and  limited  powers. 
Then  think  of  one  of  the  angels  of  God,  of 
the  noble  faculties  and  long  existence  of 
the  very  brightest  of  those  glorious  beings. 
Endeavor  to  calculate  the  distance,  the 
vast  diflerence  between  these  two  creatures. 
You  feel  at  once  that  you  cannot ;  that  the 
distance  is  so  great,  that  the  mind  is  bafHed 
as  it  sti-ives  to  measure  it.  But  what  is 
the  difference  between  an  insect  and  an 
angel,  when  compared  with  the  distance 
between  an  angel  and  the  living  God  ?  It 
is  a  mere  point,  a  nothing. 

Take  yet  another  view  of  the  subject. 
We  all  know  how  easy  it  is  to  say  what- 
ever can  be  said  in  commendation  one  of 
another.  A  few  poor  words  will  exhaust 
the  praise  of  the  most  excellent  of  the  earth. 
It  is  not  so  in  heaven.  The  songs  that  are 
resouiKb'ng  there,  come  from  innumerable 
hosts  of  angels,  and  from  "  a  great  multi- 
tude" of  the  redeemed  among  men.  They 
have  been  poured  forth  witliout  a  moment's 
interruption  for  many  age^  ;  they  will  go 
on  without  ceasing  forever.  -The  subject 
of  them  all  is  one  and  the  same,  the  praise 
of  the  Kiiitr  of  kings.  Now  imagine  for  a 
moment  what  such  songs,  in  such  a  place, 
from  such  worshippers,  must  be  !  how  fer- 
vent, how  elevated,  how  divine  !  We  are 
ready  to  think  them  worthy  of  their  subject, 
suited  to  the  glory  of  the  great  Lord  of  all. 
No,  brethren  ;  his  glorious  name,  we  are 
told,  "  is  exalted,"  raised  on  high,  "  above 


all  blessing  and  praise."  The  songs  of  hea- 
ven cannot  set  forth  his  majesty.  Though 
lengthened  out  to  eternity,  they  can  never 
adequately  display  even  one  of  his  perfec- 
tions. 

We  are  brought  then  to  this  conclusion, 
"  Great  is  the  Lord  and  greatly  to  be 
praised,"  but  "  his  greatness  is  unsearcha- 
ble." All  the  discoveries  which  have  yet 
been  made  of  it,  are  as  nothing  when  com- 
pared with  what  is  still  concealed ;  they  are 
rather  "the  hidings"  of  his  glory,  than  the 
unveiling  of  its  splendor.  The  psalmist's 
description  falls  far  short  of  the  truth.  God 
dwelleth  so  high,  that  we  cannot  ascend  to 
him,  we  "  cannot  find  him  out." 

But  it  is  not  in  his  greatness  only,  that 
the  Lord  is  thus  unrivalled. 

II.  We  are  called  on  to  consider  his 
condescension. 

And  here  we  have  before  us  the  link 
which  connects  the  great  Creator  with  his 
creatures.  We  cannot  rise  to  him  ;  he 
therefore  stoops  down  to  us.  And  he  does 
this  without  impairing  his  own  dignity.  His 
condescension  does  not  lessen  the  vast  dif- 
ference between  us  and  our  God.  It  leaves 
him  on  his  lofty  throne,  and  us  in  the  dust 
before  him.  And  yet  it  brings  him  near 
to  every  one  of  us  ;  it  places  us  as  much 
within  his  sight,  as  though  he  were  our 
equal  or  friend. 

W^e  need  not  go  far  for  proofs  of  the  di- 
vine condescension  :  we  ourselves  are  liv- 
ing monuments  of  it.  We  owe  to  it  our 
very  being,  all  we  have  and  are.  And 
what  is  the  work  which  now  employs  us, 
but  an  affecting  evidence  of  its  greatness  ? 
Fie  who  is  exalted  above  the  praise  of  an- 
gels, is  suffering  a  miserable  worm  to  sully 
his  glory  by  feeble  efforts  to  display  it,  is 
looking  with  delight  on  some  of  you  who 
are  endeavoring  to  comprehend  it,  is  bear- 
ing with  others  who  do  not  deem  it  worthy 
of  a  single  thought.  Let  us  admire  his 
patience,  while  we  look  at  the  psalmist's 
description  of  his  condescension. 

1.  "He  humbleth  himself,"  he  j;ays,  "to 
behold  the  things  that  are  in  heaven.^' 

By  "the  things  that  are  in  heaven,"  we 
are  to  understand  the  inhabitants  of  hea- 
ven, the  glorified  saints  and  angels,  m  ith 
all  that  belongs  to  or  surrounds  them.  And 
"beholding"  them  signifies,  not  merely  ob- 
serving them  as  their  Lawgiver  and  .Tudge, 
but  taking  an  interest  in  them  and  their 
concerns.     Exalted  as  he  is,  the  Lord   ia 


THE  CONDESCENSION  OF  GOD. 


9] 


not  so  wrapped  up  in  liis  majesty,  in  his  own 
glory  and  happiness,  as  to  overlook  them. 
No  ;  he  makes  them  tlie  objects  of  his  care,, 
his  love,  and  his  delight.  And  in  this  he 
manifests  his  condescension.  "lie  hum- 
bletli  himself  to  behold  the  things  that  are 
in  lieavon." 

But  liow  is  this?  Is  not  heaven  a  holy 
place,  and  ai'c  not  the  spirits  also  holy 
wlio  (hvull  in  it  ?  They  are  ;  but  then 
they  are  creatures,  and,  as  creatures,  they 
fall  infmitoly  short  of  the  perfection  of  tlie 
living  God.  In  comparison  with  ours,  their 
knowledge  is  excellent ;  but  it  is  as  noth- 
ing when  compared  with  his  infinite  wis- 
dom. Hence  he  is  said  to  "charge  his 
angels  with  folly."  And  pure  as  is  their 
dwelling-place  in  comparison  with  the  earth, 
he  says  that  it  is  not  "  clean  in  his  sight." 
Look  at  man,  and  all  in  heaven  is  know- 
ledge and  holiness  ;  look  at  God,  and  all 
is  mingled  with  ignorance,  pollution,  and 
meanness. 

Dwell  on  this  thought,  brethren.  Think 
what  a  world  heaven  is — how  unspeakably 
glorious  !  Read  the  glowing,  the  elevating 
descriptions  given  us  of  it  in  the  word  of 
God.  And  after  you  have  thought  and 
read,  hear  the  inspired  wrhers  tell  you, 
that  it  has  not  entered,  and  cannot  enter, 
into  your  heart  to  conceive  aright  of  this 
wondrous  place.  Tlien,  while  your  minds 
are  fdlcd  with  the  subject,  and  the  glories 
of  the  new  Jerusalem  seem  to  be  almost 
present  to  your  view,  turn  to  this  text,  and 
read  here — what?  that  this  is  a  place  wor- 
thy of  the  God  who  formed  it  ?  suited  to 
be  the  habitation  of  his  greatness  ?  No  ; 
that  he  humbles  himself  if  he  deigns  to 
cast  an  eye  on  it. 

2.  But  the  condescension  of  God  comes 
down  yet  lower  ;  "  he  humbleth  himself  to 
behold  tlie  things  that  are  in  the  earlh,^' 
even  this  vile  earth  ;  the  very  things 
which  we  ourselves  cannot  look  on  with- 
out many  mournful  and  many  a  sicken- 
ing thought. 

And  here  again  by  tlie  word  "  behold," 
we  must  understand  sometliing  more  than 
a  mere  glance.  It  implies  a  concern,  an 
interference,  in  our  affairs  ;  a  constant  and 
deep  interest  in  all  that  passes  around  us 
and  within  us  ;  a  care  so  extensive  that  it 
reaches  to  the  meanest  of  our  race,  and 
so  close  that  it  numbers  the  hairs  of  our 
heads. 

Look  at  the  divine  condescension  as  it  is 


seen  in  tite  prcsrn-adon  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  earth.  Think  of  the  goodness  that 
upholds  us. 

j  We  have  experienced  this  so  constantly 
I  and  so  long,  that  many  of  us  regard  it  only 
I  as  a  matter  of  course  ;  as  a  mercy  of  so 
ordinary  a  kind,  that  it  need  not  excite 
!  either  our  surprise  or  thankfulness.  But 
did  we  know  the  power  which  is  required 
merely  to  keep  in  existence  such  frames 
as  ours,  frames  so  "fearfully  and  wonder- 
fully 'made,"  we  should  all  be  fdled  with 
astonishment  to  find  ourselves  still  alive. 

Think  also  of  the  goodness  that  provides 
for  us.  When  we  consider  that  every  mo- 
ment since  we  were  born,  the  providence 
of  God  has  been  at  work  for  our  support 
and  welfare  ;  that  he  has  ordered  all  our 
affairs,  from  the  highest  down  to  the  very 
lowest ;  tliat  not  a  thought,  not  a  movement 
of  our  hearts  has  escaped  his  notice ;  when 
we  recollect  how  he  has  come  to  our  aid 
in  the  hour  of  need,  and  guided  us  in 
the  hour  of  difficulty  ;  how  he  has  com- 
forted us  in  our  affliction,  and  laid  us  low 
when  in  danger  of  being  lifted  up  in  our 
prosperity  ;  how  he  has  brought  darkness 
out  of  light  for  us,  and  good  out  of  evil,  and 
peace  out  of  bitterness  ;  when  we  remem- 
ber all  the  way  wherein  the  Lord  our  God 
has  thus  led  us,  we  must  stand  amazed  at 
his  infinite  condescension.  We  must  break 
out,  with  the  wondering  psalmist,  and  say, 
"  Lord,  what  is  man,  that  thou  art"  so 
"mindful  of  him?  and  the  son  of  man, 
that  thou"  so  "  visitest  him?" 

And  to  place  this  goodness  in  a  yet 
stronger  ligiit,  consider  for  a  moment  what 
we  are  whom  the  Lord  thus  beholds.  We 
are  not  dwelling  in  heaven,  but  here  in  a 
fallen  world,  and  we,  like  the  world,  are 
mean  and  fallen.  We  are  formed  of  the 
dust,  and  after  a  few  years  of  weakness, 
vanity,  and  suffering,  we  turn  to  dust  again, 
are  buried  in  darkness  and  forgotten.  And 
not  only  this,  we  are  polluted  as  well  as 
mean ;  the  prey  of  vile  affections  and  de- 
basing lusts ;  so  full  of  evil,  that  we  can 
hardly  bear  with  ourselves  or  with  one 
another.  As  for  God,  the  greater  part  of 
us  forget  him  ;  some  of  us  blaspheme  him 
to  his  face,  and  pour  equal  contempt  on  his 
mercy  and  his  wrath.  And  what  is  the 
service  which  the  best  of  us  render  Iiim  ? 
So  defiled,  that  were  an  angel  to  offer  him 
such  service,  he  would  be  sent  quick  into 
hell.     Yet  we  are  the  very  beings  whoni 


92 


THE  CONDESCENSION  OF  GOB. 


the  Lord  upholds  and  provides  for ;  this  is 
the  very  eartli  in  which  he  even  dwells. 

But  even  this  condescension  falls  short 
of  the  humility  which  he  has  manifested  in 
the  redemption  of  his  church. 

Think  of  the  means  by  which  this  re- 
demption was  purchased.  That  the  great 
and  eternal  God,  the  very  God  who  "dwell- 
eth  on  high,"  should  descend  so  low  as  to 
become  man ;  that,  emptying  himself  of 
his  majesty,  he  should  take  upon  him  our 
meanness ;  that  he  to  whom  all  honor, 
and  glory,  and  happiness  belong,  should 
submit  himself  to  contempt,  reproach,  and 
misery  ;  that  the  holy  One  of  Israel,  into 
whose  presence  iniquity  never  came,  should 
dwell  among  transgressors,  be  vexed  with 
their  pollutions,  and  numbered  with  them ; 
that  the  Author  and  Giver  of  life  should 
himself  suffer  death,  be  seen  hanging  in  a 
sinner's  likeness  on  a  cross,  bleeding,  groan- 
ing, and  dying  there  ;  and  after  all  his 
work  was  accomplished,  that,  instead  of 
casting  off  the  form  in  which  he  had  suffer- 
ed, he  should  raise  it  out  of  the  grave,  take 
it  with  him  into  heaven,  and  sit  down  in  it 
on  his  everlasting  throne  ; — this  is  conde- 
scension indeed,  the  utmost  depth  of  abase- 
ment, the  infinite  humility  of  an  infinite  God. 

Remember  too  the  condescension  dis- 
played in  the  application  of  this  dearly  pur- 
chased redemption.  Behold  the  great  King 
of  heaven  stooping  from  his  height,  and 
deigning  to  offej  terms  of  peace  to  a  rebel 
in  arms  against  him.  Hear  him  persuad- 
ing and  beseeching  him  to  accept  these 
terms  ;  reasoning  with  the  sinful  worms  of 
the  earth  with  as  much  earnestness  as 
though  his  own  blessedness  were  bound  up 
in  their  salvation.  See  him  bearing  to  be 
despised  and  i-eiccted  ;  following  the  worth- 
less object  of  his  care  into  every  scene  of 
vanity,  and  striving  with  him  there  ;  alarm- 
ing his  conscience,  rousing  his  fears,  war- 
ring with  his  lusts,  exciting  his  desires  ; 
never  leaving  nor  forsaking  him  till  he  has 
laid  him  a  suppliant  penitent  at  his  feet, 
and  then  rejoicing  over  him  as  though  he 
had  recovered  a  long-lost  son.  Bretiiren,  is 
not  this  amazing  condescension  ?  Is  it  not 
enough  to  force  every  tongue  to  exclaim, 
"Who  is  like  unto  the  Lord  our  God  ?" 

Consider  also  the  end  at  which  all  this 
wonderful  goodness  aims.  And  what  is 
this  1  The  following  verses  of  the  psalm 
will  tell  us.  "  He  raiseth  up  the  poor  out 
of  the  dust,  and  liftcth  the  needy  out  of  the 


dunghill,  that  he  may  set  him  with  princes, 
even  with  the  princes  of  his  people . ' '  These 
words  appear  to  be  taken  out  of  the  song 
of  Hannah,  in  the  second  chapter  of  the 
first  book  of  Samuel.  In  their  primary  ap- 
plication, they  relate  probably  to  the  eleva- 
tion of  such  men  as  Saul  and  David  from 
the  lowest  ranks  of  life  to  the  throne  of  Is- 
rael. But  the  connection  in  which  they 
stand,  requires  us  to  look  for  a  higher  mean- 
ing in  them.  They  show  us  men  like  our- 
selves, raised  from  the  lowest  depths  of 
sin  and  misery,  not  to  an  earthly  throne,  but 
to  all  the  honor  and  blessedness  of  heaven. 
"  He  beholdeth  the  things  that  are  in  the 
earth  ;"  and  this  is  the  great  end  he  has 
in  view  in  all  the  preserving  and  redeem- 
ing mercy  he  has  shown  them,  to  take  the 
poorest  he  can  find  among  them  out  of  the 
dust  of  death,  and  set  them  among  his  own 
kings  and  priests  in  a  world  of  life  ;  to  lift 
up  the  needy,  the  contrite,  and  broken- 
hearted, out  of  this  wretched  earth,  this 
dunghill  of  vileness,  and  to  cause  them  to 
sit  down  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
in  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  to  make  them  the 
sharers  of  his  own  glory  and  partakers  in 
his  own  joy. 

And  here  we  must  stop.  We  can  no 
more  fathom  the  depth  of  the  divine  conde- 
scension, than  we  can  measure  the  height 
of  the  divine  greatness.  Indeed,  without  a 
full  knowledge  of  the  one,  our  views  of  the 
other  must  be  partial.  It  is  the  infinite 
grandeur  of  God  that  magnifies  his  conde- 
scension. It  does  more  tlian  adorn  and 
augment  it  ;  it  makes  it  infinite.  In 
both  cases  our  finite  understandings  fail  us. 
Like  men  standing  on  the  shore  of  a  wide 
ocean,  we  can  see  a  vastness  that  surpri- 
ses and  fills  the  mind,  but  there  is  beyond 
our  sight  a  boundless,  immeasurable  ex- 
panse, which  no  eye  can  reach.  Instead 
therefore  of  aiming  at  a  knowledge  of  God 
which  is  "  too  excellent  for  us,"  let  us 
rather  seek  to  make  a  practical  use  of  that 
which  we  are  permitted  to  attain.  Admi- 
ration is  not  all  which  tjie  contemplation  of 
his  condescension  requires.  It  is  conde- 
scension towards  ourselves ;  we  are  the 
very  beings  who  are  most  nearly  concerned 
in  it. 

III.  Let  us  then  consider  the  influence 
which  it  ought  to  have  vpon  our  own  minds. 
We  are  repeatedly  called  on  in  this  psalm 
to  praise  God  for  it ;  but  how  is  this  praise 
to  be  shown  ? 


THE  COXDESCEf^SION  OF  GOD. 


93 


1.  In  godly  fear. 

It  may  appear  strange  to  some  of  you, 
that  fear  sIiouIlI  be  the  first  efiect  exppcted 
to  spring  IVom  a  consideration  of  mercy  ; 
but  turn  to  the  scripture.  "  The  children 
of  Israel,"  says  Hosea,  "shall  fean  the 
Lord  and  his  goodness."  "  They  shall 
fear  and  tremble,"  says  God  by  his  prophet 
Jeremiah,  "  for  all  the  goodness  and  for  all 
the  prosperity  that  I  procure  unto  it."  '  And 
then  comes  David  '•  out  of  the  depths," 
singing  of  mercy  and  plenteous  redemption, 
and  at  the  same  time  declaring  before  his 
God,  "  There  is  forgiveness  with  thee,  that 
thou  may  est  be  feared." 

The  mere  professor  of  religion  cannot 
comprehend  this  ;  it  is  one  of  those  myste- 
ries which  must  ever  perplex  hiin  ;  but  the 
Christian  understands  it.  His  experience 
has  made  it  plain.  Ask  him  when  his 
reverence  of  God  is  the  deepest,  and  his 
awe  the  most  profound  ;  he  tells  us,  not 
when  he  is  confining  his  thoughts  to  his 
majesty,  but  when  he  is  enabled  to  regard 
him  in  Christ  Jesus^ashis  own  condescend- 
ing, gracious,  and  pardoning  God.  Tlie 
fact  is,  the  greatness  of  the  Lord  is  seen 
the  most  in  his  goodness.  He  never  un- 
veils so  much  of  his  glory,  as  when  show- 
ing mercy  to  the  sinful,  raising  up  the  poor, 
and  redeeming  the  lost.  None  but  a  God 
of  infinite  greatness  could  display  such  in- 
finite grace. 

2.  With  this  godly  fear,  self-ahasement 
will  be  connected. 

It  is  impossible  to  look  on  God  in  the 
glory  of  his  condescension,  without  being 
thrilled  with  a  sense  of  our  vilcness.  And 
the  higher  we  rise  in  our  apprehensions  of 
the  divine  goodness,  the  lower  we  must  in- 
evitably fall  in  our  own  esteem.  Would 
you,  brethren,  continue  to  think  yourselves 
wise,  and  righteous,  and  great  ?  Then 
turn  away  your  eyes  from  "  the  high  and 
lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eternity,"  and 
keep  them  fixed  on  worms  of  the  dust. 
Would  you  see  yourselves  as  you  really 
are  ?  Acquaint  yourselves  with  God. 
Would  you,  with  Isaiah,  feel  yourselves 
unclean  ?  Then  strive,  with  Isaiah,  to  see 
"  the  King,  the  Lord  of  hosts."  Would 
you,  with  Job,  abhor  yourselves  ?  Then, 
with  Job,  be  not  content  with  "  the  hearing 
of  the  ear,"  but  behold  with  the  eye  of 
faith  a  holy  God.  Would  you,  with  an- 
gels, prostrate  yourselves  before  the  throne  ? 
Then,  with  angels,  look  into  those  things 


wherein  "  he  who  sitteth  on  the  throne," 
has  caused  his  glory  to  shine. 

3.  And  from  this  self-abasement  flows  a 
holy  sorrow.  Is  the  God  whose  laws  I  am 
so  often  breaking,  thus  wonderful  in  his 
condescension  ?  How  base  then  has  been 
my  conduct  towards  him  !  I  have  sinned 
against  infinite  goodness  ;  I  have  ollcnded 
against  infinite  love.  And  how  little  have 
I  thought  of  this  love  and  goodness  !  How 
transient  have  been  my  views,  and  how  low 
my  conceptions,  of  it !  I  have  admired  the 
works  of  God  ;  I  have,  looked  with  delight 
on  some  of  his  creatures ;  and  yet  to  Ids 
own  unspeakable  glories  I  am  often  blind. 
"  Surely  I  am  more  brutish  than  any  man, 
and  have  not  the  understanding  of  a  man." 

4.  Trust  is  another  effect  produced  by  a 
sight  of  the  divine  condescension. 

Why  do  we  find  it  so  hard  to  repose  in 
God  ?  Because  we  have  low  thoughts  of 
him.  We  measure  him  by  ourselves  ;  at 
least,  we  judge  of  his  goodness  by  our  own 
ideas  of  what  is  becoming  his  character. 
The  consequence  is,  when  fear  comes,  we 
yield  to  it.  But  look  at  this  text.  It  de- 
scribes the  goodness  of  God  to  be  as  great 
as  his  majesty  ;  as  much  exceeding  all  our 
conceptions  of  it,  as  the  glory  that  fills 
heaven  and  earth  passes  our  understand, 
ing.  It  is  not  such  mercy  as  we  expect, 
or  desire,  or  need  ;  it  is  such  mercy  as 
corresponds  with  the  grandeur  of  Jehovah, 
such  mercy  as  even  towers  above  his  gran- 
deur, and  becomes  the  chief  glory  of  his 
wonderful  name. 

Great  faith  then  ought  to  be  exercised 
towards  such  a  God.  It  is  a  lessening  of 
his  honor,  to  allow  either  sins,  or  troubles, 
or  wants,  to  sink  us  into  despair.  He  can 
stoop  lower  than  we  can  fall.  He  can 
raise  the  meanest  and  poorest  higher  than 
the  most  heavenly-minded  can  conceive. 
He  can  succor  where  human  kindness 
would  abandon,  comfort  where  the  tender- 
est  earthly  friend  would  forsake,  pardon 
where  the  most  merciful  of  his  creatures 
would  condemn.  Our  firmest  confidence, 
our  most  enlarged  expectations,  can  never 
equal  his  love. 

We  might  still  go  on.  The  attribute  we 
have  been  contenij)lating  calls  on  us  to  love, 
to  imitate,  to  glorify  our  God.  But  there 
is  an  inquiry  connected  with  this  subject, 
too  momentous  to  admit  of  being  passed 
over.  It  is  this — Who  among  ourselves 
are  warranted  to  rejoice  in  the  divine  con- 


94 


THE  FOOLISH  VIRGINS. 


descension  ?  "Who  are  tlie  happy  men  for  i 
whoso  sake  the  great  God  of  heaven ; 
"  humbleth  himself  to  behold  the  things  that 
are  on  the  earth  ?"  And  how  can  we  an- 
swer this  question  ?  In  no  other  way  than 
by  looking  into  our  hearts  and  lives  ;  in  no 
other  way  than  by  inquiring  whether  we 
bear  on  us  those  marks,  by  which  the  Lord 
has  distinguished  the  objects  of  his  regard. 
And  these  are  no  high  or  splendid  attain- 
ments ;  nothing  that  it  requires  either 
learning,  or  rank,  or  even  a  worldly  religion, 
to  acquire.  Thus'  saith  the  Lord,  "  The 
heaven  is  my  throne,  and  the  earth  is  my 
footstool.  Where  is  the  house  that  ye  build 
unto  me,  and  where  is  the  place  of  my 
rest  ?  To  this  man  will  I  look,  even  to  him 
that  is  poor,  and  of  a  contrite  spirit,  and 
trembleth  at  my  >vord." 

Is  this  character  yours,  brethren  ?  Are 
you  made  so  sensible  of  your  spiritual  pov- 
erty as  to  be  convinced  that  in  you  "  dwclleth 
no  good  thing  ?"  Is  your  heart  broken, 
contrite,  tender  ?  Does  the  word  of  God 
pierce  your  very  soul,  causing  you  to  fear 
even  when  it  fails  to  encourage  you  to 
hope  ?  Then  you  are  the  very  men  whom 
he  that  "  dwelleth  on  high"  beholds. 
"  His  eyes  run  to  and  fro  throughout  the 
earth"  in  search  of  such  as  you.  He  has 
already  found  you  out.  Amidst  the  infi- 
nite variety  of  his  works,  you  ar  eas  much 
noticed  by  him,  as  though  you  were  the 
only  creatures -that  his  hands  have  formed. 
Nay,  he  enters  into  your  smitten  and  fear- 
ful soul ;  he  dwells  and  rests  there  ;  and 
he  loves  his  mean  abode.  As  he  chose  it 
for  his  habitation,  he  said  of  it,  as  he  said 
of  Zion  of  old,  "  This  is  my  rest  forever  : 
here  will  I  dwell,  for  I  have  desired  it." 
O  what  an  elevating  thought  is  this  !  If 
there  is  in  the  wide  universe  a  single  being 
great  and  happy,  it  is  the  man  who  can 
look  up  to  heaven  and  say,  "  I  am  poor  and 
needy,  yet  the  Lord  thinkcth  upon  me." 
"  I  am  the  temple  of  the  living  God." 

But  this  blessedness  forces  the  mind  to 
think  of  the  misery  of  those  who  are  not 
thus  regarded  by  God.  There  are  multi- 
tudes in  this  wretched  condition.  And  we 
need  not  descend  into  hr-ll  to  find  them,  nor 
go  to  the  dark  places  of  the  earth  in  the 
search.  There  are  many  such  in  this  par- 
ish, within  these  walls.  All  amongst  you  are 
of  this  number,  who  are  well  satisfied  with 
yourselves  ;  all  who  are  strangers  to 
spiritual  sorrow  ;  all  who  have  sat  sabbath 


after  sabbath,  year  after  year,  unmoved  by 
the  gospel  of  Christ.  This  text,  brethren, 
speaks  no  comfort  to  you.  It  is  like  the 
symbol  of  Jehovah's  presence  at  the  Red 
Sea — to  his  people,  a  pillar  of  light  to 
brighten  every  thing  around  ;  to  his  ene- 
mies, a  cloud  and  darkness  to  trouble  and 
disquiet.  It  tells  you  indeed  that  the  Lord 
beholds  you,  for  "  his  eyes  behold  and  his 
eyelids  try"  all  "the  children  of  men;" 
but  he  looks  on  you  without  delight,  with 
indignation  and  wrath. 

And  can  you  be  easy  in  such  a  situation  ? 
easy  without  one  glance  of  love  from  a 
Being  who  is  always  benolding  you,  and 
that  Being  the  Author  of  all  happiness  ? 
Do  not  even  wish  to  be  easy.  Yield  rather 
to  the  disquieting  convictions  which  are  now 
rising  within  you.  Call  upon  the  Spirit  of 
God  to  make  them  the  means  of  beating 
down  your  vain  self-confidence  ;  implore 
him  to  humble,  abase,  and  empty  you. 
And  then  act  as  though  you  felt  yourselves 
to  be  poor  and  needy.  Go  to  the  great 
Saviour  of  sinneis,  that  your  need  may  be 
supplied.  You  know  by  the  testimony  of 
others  "  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ."  O  may  you  know  it  by  your  own 
blessed  experience,  and  be  enriched  and 
"  filled  by  him  with  all  the  fulness  of  God !" 


SERMON    XVIIL 

THE   FOOLISH  VIRGINS 

St.  Matthew  xxv.  8. 
Our  lamps  arc  gone  out. 

These  are  sim]ile  words;  some  of  us 
may  deem  them  trifling  ;  but  when  con- 
sidered in  their  spiritual  meaning,  they  are 
very  solemn  and  affecting.  No  one  indeed 
can  think  seriously  of  them  without  offer- 
ing  up  a  most  earnest  prayer,  that  whatever 
be  the  sorrows  awaiting  him,  he  may  never 
experience  the  anguish  of  using  this  com- 
plaint as  his  own. 

Are  any  of  us  then  in  danger  of  falling 
into  this  misery  1  We  are.  And  Mhich  of 
us  ?  All ;  more  especially  those  who  think 
themselves  the  farthest  from  it.  Cmidemn 
not  this  as  a  hard  saying.  It  is  no  more 
than  the  merciful  Jesus  himself  j>lainly  de- 
clares.    His  subject  in  this  parable  is  self 


THE  FOOLISH  VIRGINS. 


deception.  He  begins  with  an  alarming 
description  of"  those  whom  it  misleads  and 
ruins. 

I.  Look  at  the  persons  to  whom  these  lamps 
belonged. 

Marriages,  among  the  Jews,  are  solem- 
nized in  the  evening.  While  their  filmed 
city  stood,  it  was  customary  for  (he  bride- 
groom, when  the  ceremony  was  ended,  to 
lead  his  bride  from  her  father's  house  to  his 
own.  This  was  not  done  privately,  but 
with  all  the  pomp  and  display  which  the  par- 
ties could  command.  Their  female  friends 
were  invited  to  grace  the  procession. 
These,  arrayed  in  festal  dresses  and  each 
carrying  a  lamp,  assembled  near  the  dwell- 
ing of  the  bride,  and,  as  soon  as  the  bride- 
groom led  her  forth,  received  them  with  loud 
acclamations  ;  and  then,  forming  a  train, 
conducted  them,  with  songs  and  every  de- 
monstration of  joy,  to  their  future  home. 
There  a  feast  was  provided,  from  which 
strangers,  and  all  but  these  select  and  in- 
vited gue.sts,  were  carefully  excluded. 

A  ceremony  of  this  kind  is  now  before 
us.  Five  virgins  are  pointed  out  to  us  as 
waiting,  witli  lamps  in  their  hands,  for  an 
expected  bridegroom.  But  these  are  n-ot 
alone.  Five  virgins  more  are  gathered 
together  on  the  same  spot  and  on  the  same 
errand.  They  form  indeed  but  one  com- 
pany with  the  other  five.  Nor  is  this 
circumstance  strange.  They  are,  like 
them,  virgins  ;  they  wear  the  same  bridal- 
dress;  they  carry  lamps  of  a  similar  kind. 
And  not  only  so  ;  they  profess  to  be  expect- 
ing the  same  bridegroom. 

You  know,  brethren,  who  tiiis  bride- 
groom is.  He  is  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
that  Being  of  wonderful  grace,  who  styles 
himself  the  Husband  of  his  church,  and 
often  calls  that  chosen  and  beloved  church 
his  bride.  It  is  plain  then  tliat  we  must 
not  go  among  our  thoughtless  and  ungodly 
neighbors  for  the  persons  represented  here. 
These  evidently  care  nothing  about  the 
coming  Saviour,  and  can,  in  no  sense  of 
the  words,  be  said  to  "  go  forth  to  meet 
liim."  We  must  look  for  them  among 
ourselves.  The  parable  tells  us  that  they 
are  the  friends  and  companions  of  the  peo- 
ple of  God,  mixed  with  them,  and  so  much 
like  them,  that  no  human  eye  can  at  once, 
if  at  all,  perceive  the  difference.  They 
are  men  of  blameless  lives,  and,  to  all  ap- 
pearance, of  heavenly  hearts  ;  men  who 
think  of  Christ,  and  expect   Christ,   and 


have  given   up  worldly  sins  ana    »> 
follies,  that  they  may  be  prepared  to  wel- 
come Christ  at  his  appearing. 

Mark  the  faithfulness  of  this  blessed 
Teacher.  Passing  over  in  silence  the 
great  multitude  of  those  who  openly  de- 
spise him,  turning  away  our  eyes  from 
every  wavering,  suspicious  follower  of  his 
cross,  he  bids  us  fix  them  on  the  few  who 
are  esteemed  tlie  most  excellent  in  his 
church,  and  while  we  are  wishing  our 
souls  in  their  souls'  stead,  he  tells  us  that 
among  the  most  admired  of  these  are  the 
men  who  will  one  day  cry  out,  in  the  bit- 
terness of  tlieir  hearts,  -  Our  lamps  are 
gone  out." 

IL  Our  next  inquiry  then  must  be  into 
the  meaning  of  this  cry.  It  comes  from 
the  group  of  virgins  at  which  we  have  been 
looking.  Five  of  them  suddenly  discover 
that  tiie  lamps  which  they  had  brought 
with  them  to  throw  a  light  and  brilliancy 
around  the  bridegroom,  are  just  expiring. 

We  can  be  at  no  loss  to  discover  what 
we  are  to  understand  by  their  going  out.  In 
the  language  of  scripture,  light  is  often 
used  for  hope,  prosperity,  joy.  The  ex- 
tinguishing of  a  light  must  mean,  therefore, 
the  destruction  of  these  things,  the  end  of 
our  happiness  and  honor.  Thus  Job  uses 
the  figure:  "How  oft,"  he  says,  "is  the 
candle  of  the  wicked  put  out !"  And  thus 
Solomon  employs  it :  "  The  light  of  the 
righteous  rejoiceth,  but  the  lamp  of  the 
wicked  shall  be  put  out."  These  passages 
will  explain  the  text.  The  men  it  refers 
to,  carry  a  lamp  ;  that  is,  they  make  a 
visible  profession  of  religion — not  of  that 
ordinary  kind  of  religion,  which  consists 
in  being  called  after  the  name  of  Christ, 
which  brings  us  to  his  house  and  his  table, 
and  then  leaves  us  at  liberty  to  think  no 
more  of  him  ;  these  men  profess  to  love 
Cl)rist,  to  desire  his  coming,  to  be  prepared 
and  waiting  for  it.  And  up  to  a  certain 
point,  they  are  sincere :  they  imagine  them- 
selves ready  to  meet  their  God.  But  their 
lamps  go  out ;  their  profession  comes  to  an 
end ;  all  the  hoj>es  which  they  have  ground- 
ed on  it,  perish.  They  are  in  darkness, 
precisely  in  the  same  state  in  which  death 
and  judgment  find  those  who  have  never 
heard  of^  a  Saviour. 

We  begin  now  to  perceive  that  this  sim- 
ple complaint  conveys  a  very  serious  truth. 
It  tells  us  that  of  those  who  have  long  ap- 
peared  to  themselves  and  others  the  ardent 


96 


THE  FOOLISH  VIRGINS. 


friendsof  Christ,  many  will  eventually  dis- 
cover themselves  to  be  utter  strangers  to 
him.  It  brings  the  matter  nearer  home. 
It  bids  us  tremble  for  ourselves.  It  reminds 
us  that  the  most  zealous  and  honored  of  us 
all  may  be  Christians  in  appearance  only  ; 
that  notwithstanding  all  we  have  heard,  all 
we  havte  felt  and  done,  we  may  be  found 
in  the  end  altogether  unprepared  for  our 
descending  Lord,  as  empty  of  all  true  reli- 
gion as  the  darkest  heathen. 

Do  you  ask  how  this  strange  thing  can 
be  ?     Go  to  the  parable  for  an  answer. . 

III.  Consider  the  reason  why  the  lamps 
of  these  virgins  ceased  to  burn,  the  cause 
of  their  going  out. 

This  must  be  traced,  in  the  first  instance, 
to  their  own  inconsideration  and  negligence. 
They  were  "  foolish"  virgins.  Satisfied 
with  providing  for  the  present  hour,  they 
wanted  that  wisdom  which  expects  a  future 
hour  of  need,  and  lays  up  in  store  a  supply 
for  it.  They  "  took  their  lamps,"  and 
lighted  them.  Thus  far  all  was  well ;  but 
"they  took  no  oil  with  them,"  that  is,  no 
store  of  oil.  The  consequence  was,  when 
the  cry  was  made,  "  Behold,  the  bridegroom 
cometh,"  they  saw  with  dismay  that  their 
lamps  were  expiring. 

The  question  is,  then,  what  does  this  oil 
represent  ?  The  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost ; 
the  grace  which  he  pours  into  the  Chris- 
tian's heart,  and  which  he  himself  has 
taught  us  -to  call  "  the  anointing  which 
abideth  in  us."  But  what  is  this  ?  It  is 
something  within  a  man,  which  makes  him 
feel  himself  a  lost,  undone  sinner,  and 
causes  him  to  look  on  Christ  as  a  great  and 
precious  Saviour ;  something  that  softens 
his  heart  when  it  is  hard,  and  warms  it 
when  it  is  cold,  and  quiets  it  when  it  is 
troubled.  It  is  something  which  changes, 
and  sanctifies,  and  humbles,  and  guides 
him,  and  makes  him  meet  for  heaven.  It 
is  the  spring  of  all  true  religion,  its  food,  its 
life,  its  substance,  its  all  in  all. 

Of  this  the  men  here  alluded  to  arc 
destitute.  Perhaps  they  have  never  really 
known  their  need  of  it.  There  is  no  deep 
sense  of  sin  in  them,  no  feeling  of  helpless- 
ness, no  aiming  at  high  and  heavenly  things, 
no  sustained,  persevering  effort  to  draw 
near  to  God.  All  is  form,  or  doctrine,  or 
outward  display  ;  cold  and  dead. 

Perhaps  they  conceive  that  they  have 
this  Spirit.  Something  has  passed  within 
them,  which  they  Jiiistake  ibr  it — a  work 


of  -conscience  perhaps,  a  play  of  feeling,  a 
soaring  of  the  imagination  ;  in  some  cases, 
a  melting  and  burning  of  the  heart.  These 
things  satisfy  them.  They  keep  up  their 
profession  and  their  hopes  for  a  time  ;  but, 
in  the  end,  they  give  way,  they  wear  out. 
And  they  have  nothing  left.  And  why  is 
this  ?  The  fault  is  their  own.  They  have 
not  the  Spirit,  because  they  never  sought 
the  Spirit.  The  Lord  said,  "Come;"  the 
Spirit  himself  said,  "Come;"  ministers  and 
friends  urged  them  to  come,  to  ask  at  the 
throne  of  mercy  for  enlightening,  saving 
grace ;  but  in  vain.  Not  a  single  earnest 
prayer  did  they  ever  offer  for  the  precious 
blessing.  They  were  content  to  go  down 
to  the  grave,  they  were  content  to  go  up  to 
judgment,  with  no  more  religion  in  their 
hearts,  than  corrupt  nature  had  planted 
there,  and  their  own  poor  strength  main- 
tained. 

IV.  Let  us  pass  on  now  to  a  fourth  point 
— the  hour  when  the  lamps  of  these  careless 
virgins  were  extinguished. 

1.  This  was  not  before  midnight  came; 
consequently  not  till  they  had  burnt  a  con- 
siderable tijue.  And  a  man  may  go  on 
long,  as  well  as  go  far,  in  a  religious  pro- 
fession, and  yet  "  fail  of  the  grace  of  God." 
Build  a  house  on  the  sand  ;  it  is  not  every 
storm  that  will  beat  it  down.  It  is  not  every 
sunny  hour  that  will  scorch  the  corn  which 
springs  up  on  a  rock.  Nor  is  it  every  ser- 
Hion,  nor  every  warning  or  affliction,  which 
can  strip  the  self-deceiver  bare.  JVIanj 
never  have  their  eyes  opened  till  death 
stares  them  in  the  face;  nay,  there  is  a 
confidence,  and  a  false  one  too,  which  the 
near  prospect  of  a  fiery  judgment  cannot 
shake.  These  very  virgins  are  alarmed 
one  hour  ;  but  where  are  they  the  next  ? 
At  the  bridegroom's  door.  And  what  are 
they  doing  there  ?  Rending  the  air  with 
their  wailings  and  self-reproaches  ?  No. 
They  are  demanding  admittance.  They 
are  saying  "  Lord,  Lord,  open  to  us." 

3.  These  lamps  went  out  when  their  light 
teas  most  needed.  It  was  midnight,  a  dark 
hour.  The  bridegroom  too  was  at  hand, 
and  the  virgins  must  have  a  lamp  burning, 
or  they  cannot  meet  him. 

We  always  need  the  grace  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  There  is  not  an  hour  nor  a  mo- 
ment, in  which  we  can  be  either  happy  or 
safe  without  it.  There  are,  however,  sea- 
sons in  which  our  need  of  it  is  especially 
great  and  pressing.      And  these   are  the 


THE  FOOLISH  VIRGINS. 


97 


very  times  when  the  hopes  of  the  self-de- 
ceiver perish.  A  day  of  trouble  is  one  of 
them  ;  the  hour  of  death  is  anotiier— on 
this  side  of  the  grave,  the  most  appalling  of 
all.  At  a  distance,  it  is  nothing  ;  wo  tliink 
of  it  with  composure  ;  but  no  tongue  can 
tell  how  death  appears  when  it  is  close  at 
hand.  None  but  the  dying  know  what  it  is 
to  die.  A  sinking  body,  a  receding  world, 
a  dark,  lonely  grave,  loathsome  corruption, 
the  frightful  worm — these  are  not  trifles  ; 
they  make  us  shiver  as  we  think  of  them 
in  connection  with  a  lost  friend  or  child. 
But  a  iruilty  spirit,  an  offended  God,  an  un- 
known, strange  eternity — tliese  surprise  the 
soul  by  the  reality  which  they  assume, 
they  overwhelm  it  by  their  importance.  In 
such  an  hour,  no  slight  hopes  will  support 
us.  If  conscience  docs  its  work,  nothing 
but  the  liveliest  faith,  the  firmest  hold  of 
the  divine  promises,  can  give  us  one  mo- 
ment's quiet.  O  what  an  hour  for  all  our 
hopes  to  leava  us  !  O  what  a  time  to  dis- 
cover our  goodness  to  be  sin,  our  religion 
a  delusion  !  Flesh  and  heart  failing,  the 
world  useless,  and  the  heaven  we  had  so 
often  deemed  our  own,  out  of  our  sight ! 
And  what  is  near  ?  We  know  not.  Noth- 
ing at  which  we  dare  to  look. 

But  let  this  hour  be  past ;  let  conscience 
sleep ;  let  it  be  an  hour  of  calmness  ; — we 
must  feel  our  need  of  the  grace  of  Christ 
when  it  is  gone.  We  shall  be  in  a  world 
of  spirits :  not  hearing  of  eternity,  but  in 
it ;  not  thinking  of  a  judgment-seat,  but 
trembling  before  it;  not  saying,  "Is  there 
a  God?"  but  seeing  him;  not  musing 
about  heaven  and  hell,  but  standing  on 
their  borders,  within  a  step  of  their  pains 
or  joys,  with  only  a  moment  between  us 
and  an  everlasting  home.  No  self  right- 
eous hope  can  .stand  in  such  an  hour  as 
this.  It  may  have  rooted  itself  very  deeply 
in  the  mind  ;  we  may  have  carried  it  about 
with  us  all  our  life  long  ;  it  may  have 
stood  firm  against  many  a  sermon  and 
many  a  providence  ;  it  may  have  triumph- 
ed over  the  plainest  declarations  of  the 
Bible,  and  borne  unmoved  the  shock  of 
death  ;  but  take  it  into  eternity,  bring  it 
among  the  realities  of  that  unseen  world  ; 
— where  is  it  ?  It  is  gone.  One  moment 
has  turned  it  into  immoveal)lc  despair. 

3.  The  lamps  of  these  virgins  went  out 

at  an  hour  when  they  could  not  be  rekindled  ; 

at  least  not  rekindled   in   time   for   their 

intended  purpose.     "  Give  us  of  your  oil," 

13 


said  they  to  their  wise  companions,  "  for 
our  lamps  are  gone  out."  ''  Not  so,"  an- 
swered the  others,  "  lest  there  be  not  enough 
lor  us  and  you  ;  but  go  ye  rather  to  them 
that  sell,  and  buy  for  yourselves."  They 
went.  The  shops  were  i)robably  near ; 
"  but  while  they  went  to  buy,  the  bride- 
groom came  ;  and  they  that  were  ready, 
went  in  with  him  to  the  marriage  ;  and  the 
door  was  shut." 

We  all  know  that  in  worldly  things  time 
is  occasionally  of  wonderful  value.  A 
minute,  a  moment,  may  be  worth  all  we 
possess.  Property,  or  health,  or  life,  may 
depend  on  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  A 
house  is  in  flames.  One  man  escapes  ;  in 
an  instant,  another  is  at  the  door  ;  but  the 
roof  falls,  and  he  is  buried  in  the  ruins. 
JMy  child  is  struggling  in  the  water.  J 
rush  to  save  it,  and  my  hand  is  within  a 
span  of  its  body  ;  but  it  sinks  and  is  lost. 

Now  go  to  spiritual  things.  The  change 
which  time  makes  there,  is  unspeakably 
great.  We  are  now  within  reach  of  all 
that  sinners  can  receive,  or  that  God  can 
give.  Grace,  mercy,  salvation,  heaven,  all 
may  be  obtained  by  every  one  of  us  in  the 
easiest  way,  on  the  freest  terras — simply  in 
this  way,  through  faith  in  Christ — on  these 
terms,  by  only  asking  for  them,  by  really 
stretching  forth  our  worthless  hand  to  re- 
ceive them.  But  let  a  few  years  pass 
away — not  all  the  prayers  and  cries  that 
misery  wrings  from  us,  can  procure  one 
drop  of  water  to  cool  our  tongues. 

Place  us  on  our  death-beds.  If  we  de- 
spise the  grace  of  heaven  now,  can  we  find  it 
then  ?  We  may  desire  it ;  we  may  make 
the  ears  of  our  friends  tingle  by  our  pier- 
cing cries  for  it ;  but  a  death-bed  prayer  ! 
it  is  like  the  shriek  of  a  man  who  is  over- 
taken by  flan:>es.  The  Bible  gives  us  the 
history  of  four  thousand  yeai-s.  How  many 
sinners  do  we  read  of  there  converted  and 
saved  in  the  last  few  hours  of  life  ?  One. 
And  when  did  he  find  mercy  ?  In  the 
most  wonderful  hour  of  all  that  history. 
It  was  an  hour  of  prodigies.  The  sun  was 
darkened,  the  rocks  were  rending,  the 
graves  of  the  dead  were  opened,  antli  then 
the  Lord  of  glory  gave  up  the  ghost,  and  a 
dying  thief  was  saved. 

Place  us  in  eternity.  Never  since  crea- 
ted  being  breathed  in  it,  has  mercy  been 
found  for  the  first  time  there.  Angels 
could  never  find  it,  nor  can  ruined  man. 
"  Now,"  brethren,  "  is  the  accepted  time," 


98 


THE  FOOLISH  VIRGINS. 


the  only  accepted  time  ;  "  now  is  the  day," 
the  only  day,  "of  salvation."  There  is 
hope  nowhere  but  on  earth.  Here  the 
sinner's  road  to  heaven  begins.  There  is 
not  another  in  all  the  universe  of  God. 

V.  And  what  if  these  things  should  be- 
fall us  ?  What  if  our  hopes  should  fail, 
and  we  be  found  at  the  last  without  the 
grace  of  God  ?  This  parable  foretells  the 
consequences. 

1.  The  expiring  of  their  lamps  laiiglit 
these  virgins  the  value  of  that  which  they  he- 
fore  thought  needless ;  it  led  them  most 
anxiously  to  seek  it.  They  ask  oil  of  their 
companions ;  they  hasten,  in  the  depth  of 
night,  to  buy  it. 

The  discovery  they  made  concerns  our- 
selves. We  are  now  of  many  minds 
concerning  spiritual  things.  A  few  of  us 
deem  them  of  the  utmost  possible  import- 
ance. We  consider  grace,  and  mercy,  a 
new  and  holy  heart,  as  the  greatest  of  all 
conceivable  blessings.  Others  wonder  at 
our  choice.  They  look  on  vital  religion, 
the  religion  which  lifts  up  the  soul  above 
the  world,  as  a  useless  thing.  In  their 
eyes,  it  is  enthusiasm,  it  is  a  being  righteous 
overmuch,  it  is  at  best  an  ideal  plaything, 
the  dream  of  fools. 

Others  take  a  different  view  of  the  matter. 
This  religion,  they  think,  is  desirable ;  it 
may  be  almost  necessary.  "  But  then," 
they  say,  "  it  is  so  cheerless,  so  melan- 
choly ;  we  cannot  love  it.  It  robs  us  of  the 
few  pleasures  we  can  find  in  this  care-worn 
world,  and,  while  we  live,  it  gives  us 
-nothing  in  return  for  them." 

Sooner  or  later,  however,  there  will  be 
but  one  opinion  among  us  all.  And  what  is 
that  ?  We  find  it  here.  We  shall  deem 
the  grace  of  Christ  the  one  thing  needful. 
We  shall  look  on  the  world,  with  all  its 
pleas-ures  and  cares,  its  joys  and  sorrows, 
•its  love  and  hatred,  as  of  no  more  import- 
ance than  a  shadow  that  is  departed,  than 
■A  vision  of  the  night. 

Go  up  to  heaven.  Ask  the  redeemed 
who  are  singing  there,  what  they  most 
prize.  The  answer  is,  "Salvation."  Go 
down  to  hell,  and  ask  the  weeping  there 
what  they  most  need.  No  other  sound 
comes  through  the  darkness,  than  "  Salva- 
tion." Come  back  again  to  earth.  Ask 
us  within  these  walls  what  we  most  desire. 
O  what  a  multitude  of  answers  is  in  a  mo- 
ment heard  !  Money  ;  pleasure  ;  sin;  the 
Rpplause  of  a  few  dying  rebels  ;  the  affec- 


tion of  a  worm.  But  collect  us  again 
when  a  hundred  years  are  gone  ;  put  the 
same  question  once  more  to  us ; — we  too 
have  learned  the  language  of  eternity  ;  we 
ask  for  salvation.  We  no  longer  say  in 
our  hearts,  "  The  world  now,  and  God 
hereafter."  This  is  our  cry,  "  O  save  us  ! 
Give  us  grace  !  Give  us  mercy  !  Better 
to  be  a  converted,  pardoned  sinner,  than  an 
unpardoned  angel."  And  how  will  this 
great  change  be  wrought  ?  By  death ;  by 
our  being  forced  to  look  on  things  in  the 
light  of  eternity  ;  by  blessed  or  woful  ex- 
perience in  another  world. 

2.  Observe  one  thing  more — these  vir- 
gins were  excluded  from  the  marriage  feast. 
"  While  they  went  to  buy"  the  oil  they 
needed,  the  bridegroom  passed  along;  he 
reached  his  house  amidst  the  lights  and 
songs  of  his  happy  friends  ;  and  when 
he  had  welcomed  them  to  his  feast  of  joy, 
"the  door  was  shut."  "Afterwards  came 
also  the  other  virgins,"  but  the  door  moves 
not.  No  entreaties  can  unloose  its  bars. 
"  Lord,  Lord,"  they  say,  "  open  to  us." 
But  no  ;  he  disowns  them.  "  He  answered 
and  said,  Verily,  I  say  unto  you,  I  know 
you  not."  And  why  are  they  thus  reject- 
ed ?  There  was  room  enough  and  to  spare 
within  those  walls.  The  provisions  were 
most  abundant.  These  virgins  appear  as 
well  attired  and  as  worthy  as  the  other 
guests.  No  crime  was  laid  to  their  charge. 
All  their  offence  was  this — they  had  no  oil 
when  the  bridegroom  came;  and  for  this 
they  must  be  banished  from  his  house 
forever. 

Even  in  worldly  affairs,  a  trifling  error 
may  be  followed  by  very  serious  conse- 
quences. A  step  too  many  may  plunge  us 
down  a  precipice.  A  medicine  taken  by 
one,  which  was  intended  for  another,  may 
endanger  the  healthiest  life.  But  wliat  so 
fatal  as  the  mistake  that  concerns  our  souls? 
It  is  the  design  of  Christ,  in  several  of  his 
parables,  to  show  us  the  danger  of  an  error 
here.  Look  at  the  house  that  the  winds 
and  floods  beat  down.  Why  did  it  fall, 
while  another,  raised  at  the  same  time, 
stood  ?  Only  because  it  was  not  founded  on 
a  rock.  Why  was  the  guest  driven  from 
tlie  wedding  supper  of  the  king  ?  Solely 
because  he  had  not  on  a  wedding  garment. 
And  here  is  a  company  of  invited  friends 
excluded  from  another  bridal  feast,  because, 
at  a  midnight  hour,  their  lamps  are  gone  out, 
and  excluded  by  the  bridegroom  himself, 


THE  FOOLISH  VIRGINS. 


and  at  the  very  time  when  his  heart  is  full 
of  kindness,  and  a  multitude  around  him  is 
made  liappy  by  his  love. 

O  brethren,  as  you  dread  destruction, 
dread  mistakes.  "  They  are  harmless," 
.eays  an  unbelieving  world.  "  They  arc  tri- 
fles," say  your  own  foolish  hearts.  "  They 
are  truths,"  whispers  Satan.  But  all  this 
while,  these  harmless  errors,  these  trifles, 
these  seeminor  truths,  are  fillinn;  hell.  It  is 
not  a  solitary  spirit  that  they  have  ruined. 
Five  out  of  these  ten  virgins  ai'e  in  dark- 
ness, when  they  expected  to  enter  into  the 
bridegroom's  joy.  And  what  is  our  Lord's 
testimony  in  anotl^r  place  ?  "  Not  every 
one  that  saith  unto  me.  Lord,  Lord,  shall 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  How 
many  tlicn  will  he  e.xclude  ?  Hear  his 
answer  ;  "  Many  will  say  to  me  in  that 
day,  Lord,  Lord  ;  and  then  will  I  profess 
unto  them,  I  never  knew  you.  Depart 
from  me." 

We  must  now  end.  And  what  have  we 
learned  from  the  things  we  have  heard  ?  It 
is  but  a  little  while  ere  this  picture  will 
become  a  reality.  The  scenes  here  por- 
trayed will  soon  be  acted.  We  shall  see 
them ;  we  shall  bear  a  part  in  them.  What 
will  that  part  be  ?  Will  our  lamps  be  burn- 
ing when  the  Bridegroom  comes,  or  will 
they  be  gone  out  in  darkness?  Shall  we 
sit  down  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
at  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb,  or 
shall  we  be  banished  from  "the  glory  of 
his  power"  forever  ?  We  cannot  look  into 
futurity.  We  can,  however,  look  into  our 
own  hearts  and  lives.  O  that  we  may  strive 
to  get  from  them  a  faithful  answer  to  this 
simple,  but  tremendous  question,  Shall  I 
live  forever  in  heaven,  or  in  hell  ?  What 
say  appearances  now  ? 

Do  you  carry  a  lamp  ?  Do  you  profess  to 
be  waiting  for  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  from 
heaven  ?  Then  let  not  that  lamp  content 
you  ;  trust  not  in  that  profession.  Beware 
■)f  a  superficial,  outside  religion.  It  is  the 
character  of  all  the  false  religions  that  de- 
ceive the  world.  It  is  the  religion  of  mul- 
titudes in  this  Christian  land.  But  it  is  not 
the  religion  which  can  save  your  souls. 
Nothing  leads  to  heaven,  but  the  grace  that 
comes  down  from  heaven,  the  regenerating, 
transforming,  purifying  grace  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  And  O  how  easy  is  it  to  imagine 
ourselves  possessed  of  this,  when  we  are 
as  destitute  of  it  as  a  corpse  of  life !  Be 
fearful.     Be  in  earnest.     Be  honest  with 


yourselves.  Search  your  hearts.  Rest  not 
till  you  can  discover  there  the  working  of  a 
mighty  God  ;  not  deep  convictions  merely, 
not  lively  impressions  or  serious  thoughts 
only,  but  a  change  from  death  unto  life,  a 
thorough  conversion  from  sin  to  holiness, 
from  the  world  to  Christ.  Look  at  the  door 
of  heaven.  It  is  open,  wide  as  infinite  power 
and  love  can  throw  it ;  but  what  is  the 
writing  which  it  bears  above  it  ?  "A  holy 
world."  "  hiXcept  a  man  be  born  again, 
he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God." 

Are  your  lumps  already  gone  out  ?  or  are 
they  going  out  ?  Do  any  of  you  suspect  that 
you  shall  wake  up  in  darkness  in  another 
world  ?  That  suspicion  may  be  the  great- 
est  blessing  of  your  life.  You  cannot  think 
so,  perhaps.  You  view  your  fears  in  a  dif- 
ferent light.  They  are  very  humiliating  to 
you,  and  very  painful.  The  thought  of 
being  far  from  God,  while  all  your  life 
long  you  have  imagined  yourselves  draw- 
ing near  to  him,  is  almost  more  than  you 
can  bear.  But  if  the  case  really  be  so, 
the  discovery  must  in  the  end  be  made  ; 
and  where  would  you  wish  to  make  it  ? 
Here,  in  a  world  of  mercy ;  or  hereafter,  in 
a  world  of  wrath  ?  What  if  the  bride- 
groom had  sent  a  messenger  to  rouse  these 
slumbering  virgins  before  midnight  came  ? 
What  if  he  had  bid  them  look  on  their  ex- 
piring lights  and  empty  vessels,  only  a  few 
short  minutes  before  his  appearing  ?  Harsh 
as  his  voice  might  sound,  it  would  have 
saved  them  all  their  misery  and  shame. 
The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  has  awakened  you. 
The  work  is  his.  Witliout  iiini,  no  minister, 
no  sermon,  could  efl'ect  it.  And  why  has 
he  done  it  ?  In  compassion  to  your  souls. 
O  praise  him  for  his  grace  !  Say  not,  with 
Jacob,  "  All  these  things  are  against  me  !" 
but  say  rather  with  the  wife  of  the  fearful 
Manoah,  "  If  the  Lord  were  pleased  to  kill 
us,  lie  would  not  have  showed  us  all  these 
things,  nor  would,  at  this  time,  have  told  us 
such  things  as  these." 

But  you  must  bestir  yourselves,  breth- 
ren. Your  chief  dangers  are  these  tliree ; — 
delay ;  but  this  will  not  bear  a  thought ; 
there  is  ruin  in  it.  These  virgins  lost  but 
a  moment,  and  yet,  while  they  went  to  buy, 
the  bridegroom  came.  Here  lies  another 
peril — in  eflTorts  to  trim  your  extinguished 
lamps,  to  revive  your  hones  by  greater 
earnestness  in  your  former  course.  You 
might  as  well  attempt  to  make  the  dead 
move  and  act.  And  then  comes  a  third  dan- 


100 


THE  ROCK  AT  HOREB. 


ger — mistaking  a  discovery  of  your  danger 
for  your  remedy,  a  desire  after  grace  for 
grace  itself.  Beware  of  these  things.  Lose 
no  time  in  vain  lamentations.  Regard  your 
past  religion  as  a  cheat.  Begin  anew. 
Your  grand  defect  has  been  a  want  of  in- 
ward, enlightening,  converting  grace.  It  is 
still  your  most  pressing  want,  almost  your 
only  one.  And  O  how  easily  may  it  be 
supplied  !  "  Go  ye  to  them  that  sell,  and 
buy  for  yourselves."  Apply  for  the  Spirit 
to  liim  who  has  "  the  residue  of  the  Spirit;" 
to  him  who  purchased  it  for  sinners  with 
his  tears  and  blood  ;  to  him  who  has  been 
for  six  thousand  years  dispensing  it  to  every 
one  that  has  asked  it  of  him  ;  to  him  who 
gave  it  to  Noah,  and  Abraham,  and  Paul, 
and  who  will  rejoice  to  give  it  you  ;  and  to 
give  it  you  freely,  "  without  money  and 
without  price."  Christ  is  our  light.  To 
Christ  then  let  the  prayer  go  up  from  every 
heart,  "  Lighten  mine  eyes,  lest  I  sleep  the 
sleep  of  death." 

Are  your  lamps  still  lurnivg  ?  Flave  you 
reason  to  hope  that  the  religion  which  you 
profess,  is  a  religion  of  the  heart?  a  reli- 
gion which  has  the  Holy  Spirit  for  its  au- 
thor ?  Then  be  assured  that  it  will  have 
heaven  for  its  end.  Whence  came  the  grace 
that  first  separated  you  from  a  thoughtless 
world  ?  Whence  comes  the  grace  that  re- 
news your  spiritual  life  day  by  day?  that 
reminds  you  of  Christ  when  you  forget 
him,  and  keeps  you  waiting  and  longing 
for  his  appearing  ?  It  comes  from  the 
heavenly  Bridegroom  himself.  And  why 
does  he  give  it  you  ?  That  he  may  have 
you  for  his  companions  and  friends,  for  his 
joy  and  his  praise,  in  the  day  of  his  glory. 


SERMON  XIX. 

THE   ROCK  AT  IIOREB. 
1  Corinthians  x.  4. 

They  drank  of  that  spiritual  rock  that  followed 
them,  and  that  rock  was  Christ. 

Rocks  are  common  in  Judea.  Often 
lofty  and  sometimes  rent  into  caverns,  they 
serve  as  places  of  refuge  from  storms,  shel- 
er  from  heat,  and  protection  from  enemies. 
Hence  the  great  Saviour  of  Israel  is  fre- 


quently spoken  of  in  the  Old  Testament  as 
their  Rock,  and  all  his  trembling  people 
are  encouraged  to  fly  to  him,  in  all  their 
perils,  for  safety  and  repose.  But  these 
are  not  the  only,  nor  yet  the  chief  mercies 
connected,  in^the  text,  with  this  term.  It 
relates  to  Israel  in  the  desert ;  and  those 
poor  wanderers  needed  something  more  in 
that  dreary  waste,  than  a  hiding  place 
and  a  shade.  We  find  them  at  Rephidim 
fainting  with  thirst ;  and  how  are  they  re- 
lieved ?  Not  by  rain  from  above,  nor  by 
springs  from  beneath.  The  Lord  their 
God  "  brought  them  forth  water  out  of  a 
rock  of  flint." 

Now  why  was  this  ?  Saint  Paul  in- 
forms us.  He  calls  this  mysterious  foun- 
tain a  spiritual  rock,  and  the  water  which 
flowed  from  it,  spiritual  water  ;  and  he 
calls  them  so,  because  they  were  designed 
to  have  a  spiritual  meaning,  and  to  repre- 
sent spiritual  things — the  one  standing  as 
an  emblem  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
the  other  shadowing  forth  those  precious 
blessings  of  which  he  is  the  Author. 

You  know,  brethren,  what  these  bless- 
ings are.  Though  numerous  as  our  wants, 
these  two  words,  mercy  and  grace,  will 
comprehend  them  all.  To  us,  they  are  of 
unspeakable  importance.  They  are  the 
very  things  which  we  need  the  most  while 
we  are  in  this  world,  and  the  only  things 
which  we  can  take  with  us  when  we  go 
into  another.  Let  us  then  be  serious  and 
prayerful,  while  we  endeavor  to  trace  the 
resemblance  which  they  bear  to  the  waters 
of  Horeb. 

And  this  may  be  discovered  in  tlie  source 
whence  these  waters  sprung,  the  uses  for 
which  they  were  designed,  and  the  manner 
in  which  they  flowed.  We  must  however 
confine  our  attention,  for  the  present,  to 
their  source. 

I.  The  most  striking  feature  in  this  is 
Us  durahi/ili/.  It  was  a  rock,  a  frequent 
emblem  in  the  scripture  of  solidity  and  un- 
changeableness. 

And  what  can  shake  or  change  "  the 
high  and  lofty  One,"  from  whom  comcih 
salvation  ?  No  rock  so  durable  as  he,  no 
mountain  so  stable.  The  rock  at  Horeb  has 
probably  remained  the  same  for  three  thou- 
sand years  ;  the  hills  around  us  have  stood 
firm  against  time  and  storm  for  perhaps  a 
longer  period,  and  their  unchangeableness 
may  well  be  used  to  set  forth  the  everlasting 
existence  of  the  great  Redeemer  ;   but  be- 


THE  ROCK  AT  HOREB. 


101 


fore  tlioy  wore  brought  forth,  he  was  in  the 
bosom  of  his  Father  :  and  after  tliey  have 
perished,  he  will  abide  unmoved  the  Rock 
of  ages  ;  he  will  live  and  reitrn  the  Lord  of 
eternity  ;  "  the  same"  in  his  faithfulness, 
love,  and  power,  "  yesterday,  to-day,  and 
forever." 

Here  then  is  something  for  a  sinking 
heart  to  rest  on.  All  around  me  is  uncer- 
tain ;  shifting,  changing,  and  passing  away. 
My  friends  are  disappearing  ;  the  house  I 
dwell  in,  and  this  very  church  in  which  my 
fathers  worshipped,  are  hastening  to  decay  ; 
the  rivers  and  hills,  the  sun,  moon,  and 
stars,  will  soon  be  no  more.  And  all  within 
me  is  as  frail.  iMy  health  and  strength  are 
wearing  out ;  my  faith  often  fiiils  me,  my 
hopes  droop,  and  my  consolations  languish. 
But  he  who  has  the  charge  of  my  sinful 
soul,  never  changes  and  can  never  die.  He 
is  the  same  now  as  when  he  first  chose  me 
for  himself;  the  same  on  his  throne  in 
heaven,  as  on  his  cross  on  earth  ;  and  when 
I  shall  stand  before  him  as  my  Judge,  he 
will  be  the  same  still — "  a  consuming  fire" 
to  them  who  make  light  of  him,  but  to  the 
vilest  of  them  that  hope  in  him,  unminglcd 
love.       O   let  me  therefore   "  cease   from 


!"      Let 


trust  in  the  Lord  for- 


ever, for  in  the  Lord  Jehovah  is  everlasting 
strength." 

n.  Did  the  Israelites,  then,  it  may  be 
asked,  select  this  rock  as  a  fountain  for 
themselves  ?  No.  The  source  of  the 
stream  they  drank  of,  ims  chosen  hy  God 
himself.  Instead  of  leaving  Moses  to  fix 
the  spot  from  which  it  was  to  issue,  he 
pointed  out  to  him  this  particular  rock,  and 
commanded  him,  in  the  use  of  certain 
means,  to  seek  for  water  there.  "  Behold," 
he  says,  "  I  will  stand  before  thee  upon  the 
rock  in  Horeb."  Not  that  any  other  part 
of  the  plain  might  not  have  been  made  to 
yield  a  supply  as  abundant  for  his  distress- 
ed people ;  but  he  wished  to  teach  them 
and  us,  that  the  means  of  salvation  are  not 
of  man's  creating  or  appointing  ;  that  he 
who  is  the  great  Author  of  our  blessings, 
will  communicate  them  only  "  as  seemeth 
unto  him  good."  Thus  does  he  assert  his 
sovereignty,  while  he  manifests  his  love  ; 
and  thus  does  he  humble  the  sinner's  pride, 
while  he  saves  his  soul. 

Henc-o  he  tells  us  in  his  word  that  the 
eternal  Jesus.  "  whom  he  hath  set  forth  to 
be  a  propitiation,"  is  a  Saviour  of  his  own 
appointment ;  that  he  gave  him  to  the  world, 


and  sent  him  into  it  ;  that  there  is  a  suffi- 
ciency for  all  our  wants  in  him,  because 
"  it  hath  pleased  the  Father,  that  in  him 
should  all  fulness  dwell." 

He  declares  too  the  manner  in  which  the 
redemption  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus  must  be 
sought ;  the  only  terms  on  which  he  will 
bestow  it.  And  no  terms  can  be  more  gra- 
cious. He  demands  of  us  no  higher  price 
than  the  very  poorest  can  pay.  And  what 
does  he  offer  us  ?  More  than  all  the  treas- 
ures of  the  earth  could  buy,  or  the  servi- 
ces  of  all  the  angels  in  heaven  could  earn. 
Pardon  and  righteousness,  grace  and  peace, 
"  glory,  honor,  and  immortality,"  are  held 
out  before  us ;  and  this  is  their  price,  that 
we  believe  the  crucified  Jesus  to  be  able  and 
willing  freely  to  give  them  all.  "  Believe 
in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ"  is  the  one  great 
command  of  the  gospel  ;  "  Thou  shalt  be 
saved,"  its  one  grand  and  comprehensive 
promise.  All  that  is  demanded  of  sin- 
ners, is  to  be  found  in  the  one  ;  all  that  a 
God  of  infinite  love  can  bestow,  is  contain- 
ed in  the  other.  He  asks  of  us  no  more, 
partly  because  we  have  no  more  to  give, 
and  partly  because  it  would  tarnish  his 
honor  to  accept  more  at  our  hands.  '•  By 
grace  are  ye  saved,  through  faith  ;"  and 
why  through  faith  ?  The  Holy  Spirit  tells 
us — "  that  it  might  be  by  grace  ;"  that  in 
the  ages  to  come,  when  we  are  near  our 
great  Redeemer  in  heaven,  we  might  show 
forth  there  "  the  exceeding  riches  of  his 
grace." 

It  follows,  therefore,  that  such  of  you  as 
are  thus  seeking  mercy,  relying  for  it  solely 
on  the  promises  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus,  can 
never  be  disappointed.  He  who  has  cho- 
sen Christ  for  a  Saviour,  will  never  cast 
out  those  who  accept  him  as  their  Saviour. 
Resting  on  him  alone,  you  are  building  on 
that  corner-stone,  "  elect  and  precious," 
which  the  Father  himself  has  laid  in  Zion  ; 
and  sooner  shall  heaven  and  earth  pass 
away,  than  your  hopes  shall  fiiil.  You  are 
on  the  appointed  Rock,  and  though  you  may 
sometimes  fear  and  tremble  there,  you  are 
safe. 

It  follows,  too,  that  such  of  you  as  are 
seeking  mercy  in  any  other  way,  must 
come  short  of  it.  However  right  that  way 
may  seem,  it  is  not  the  way  of  God's  ap- 
pointment, and  the  end  thereof  must  be 
"the  ways  of  death."  You  may  be  very 
honest,  very  moral,  very  useful,  and,  as 
you  and  others  also  may  conceive,  very 


102 


THE  ROCK  AT  HOREB 


godly;  but  in  trusting  to  such  tilings  as 
these  for  salvation,  what  are  you  doing  ? 
Nothing  less  than  this — rejecting  God's 
method  of  salvation,  and  substituting  an- 
other of  your  own  ;  pouring  contempt  on 
his  wisdom,  and  setting  up  above  it  j-our 
own  vain  imaginations  ;  turning  away  from 
the  door  that  he  has  opened  to  his  kingdom, 
and  striving  to  force  your  way  into  his 
presence  oy  another.  Self-dependence,  in 
this  matter,  is  not  a  mei-e  error  in  judg- 
ment, a  pardonable  mistake  ;  it  is  disobe- 
dience, opposition,  rebellion.  It  is  an  effort 
to  rob  the  Father  of  his  glory,  to  exclude 
the  Son  from  his  office  and  thrust  him  from 
his  throne,  to  be  independent  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  It  "  frustrates  the  grace  of  God  ;" 
it  makes  Christ  to  be  "  dead  in  vain."  It 
has  pride  for  its  origin,  all  ungodliness  for 
its  fruit,  and  destruction  for  its  end. 

III.  But  though  the  source  of  these  wa- 
ters in  the  desert  was  chosen  by  God,  yet 
it  tvds  opened,  according  to  the  divine  appoint- 
7uenf.,  bij  the  hand  of  man.  It  was  a  smitten 
rock.  The  Lord  said  unto  Moses,  "Goon 
before  the  people,  and  take  with  thee  of  the 
elders  of  Israel ;  and  thy  rod  wherewith 
thou  smotest  the  river,  take  in  thy  hand, 
and  go.  Behold,  I  will  stand  before  thee 
there  upon  the  rock  in  Iloreb,  and  thou 
shalt  smite  the  rock,  and  there  shall  come 
water  out  of  it." 

The  blessed  Jesus  too  was  smitten ;  yea, 
"  stricken  of  God  and  afflicted,"  smitten  by 
the  divine  permission,  and  agreeably  to  the 
divine  purpose.  He  was  smitten  in  ids  body  ; 
his  hands  and  feet  nailed,  his  head  torn  with 
thorns,  his  side  pierced.  He  was  smitten 
too  in  his  soul,  and  so  smitten  there,  that 
were  all  the  anguish  that  has  ever  wrung 
the  human  heart,  poured  in  one  moment 
into  any  one  heart,  there  would  still  be  no 
sorrow  like  unto  his  sorrow  ;  the  depth  of 
the  lledeemer's  misery  would  still  be  un- 
falhouKMl. 

And  it  behooved  him  thus  to  suffer. 
There  was  a  reason  and  necessity  for  every 
pang  lie  bore.  Out  of  the  overflowing  foun- 
tain of  love  in  Jehovah's  breast,  not  a  single 
drop  of  mercy  could  reach  the  sinner.  It 
ran  in  streams  of  life  and  joy  through  the 
hosts  of  heaven  ;  it  would  have  gladdened 
the  earth,  but  a  broken  law  stopped  it  in  its 
course.  A  race  of  beings  was  living  here, 
who  had  set  at  naught  the  "  holy,  just,  and 
good"  commands  of  ITim  who  made  them. 
An  awful  sentence  had  therefore  gone  Ibrlh 


against  them,  and  before  it  could  bt  repeal, 
ed,  a  ransom  must  be  found,  a  satisfaction 
for  insulted  justice  ;  and  he  whose  law  had 
been  trampled  on,  found  it  in  his  own  ever- 
lasting Son.  The  holy  Jesus  was  set  apart 
from  all  eternity  for  the  work  of  our  redemp- 
tion. In  the  fulness  of  time,  he  entered  on 
it.  Taking  on  him  a  body  prepared  for 
him,  he  came  into  our  world,  and  placing 
himself  in  the  sinner's  stead,  "he  gave  his 
back  to  the  smiters,"  and  "  bare  in  his  own 
body  on  the  tree"  the  sinner's  curse.  And 
man  himself  gave  the  blow.  With  his  own 
wicked  hands  he  crucified  the  Lord  of  life, 
and  thus  fulfilled,  though  he  knew  it  not, 
the  Father's  purpose.  Hence  the  apostle, 
when  speaking  of  the  cruelty  of  the  Jews 
against  Christ,  declares  that  they  were  gath- 
ered together  to  do  nothing  more  than  what 
the  hand  and  counsel  of  Heaven  had  "deter- 
mined before  to  be  cone."  And  signs  and 
wonders  testified  the  same.  As  the  symbol 
of  Jehovah's  presence  abode  upon  the  rock 
when  Moses  struck  it,  so  in  tiie  trembling 
earth,  and  rending  rocks,  ^nd  fearful  dark- 
ness, he  manifested  his  presence  at  the  cru- 
cifixion of  his  Son.  And  tlie  Son  himself, 
though  forsaken  by  his  Father,  saw  him 
there.  The  divine  decree  was  hid  in  his 
inmost  soul.  It  carried  him  to  the  cross, 
and  it  kept  him  on  it.  He  looked  on  his 
sufferings  as  the  cup  which  his  Father  had 
put  into  his  hands,  and  shrunk  not  from 
them  till  "  he  bowed  his  head  and  gave  up 
the  ghost." 

Thus  the  Rock  of  our  salvation  was  open 
ed,  and  the  waters  of  life  gushed  out. — 
Mercy  rejoiced  to  find  its  way,  for  the  first 
time,  into  an  apostate  world,  and  has  ever 
since  run  like  a  river  in  the  dry  places  of 
the  earth. 

Here  we  must  pause.  But  we  have  al- 
ready seen  enough  in  this  history  to  show 
us  the  sameness  of  the  church  in  all  ages. 
It  has  experienced  indeed  many  changes — 
changes  of  dispensations,  changes  of  mer- 
cies, and  still  greater  changes  of  sorrows  ; 
but  amidst  them  all,  it  has  had  but  "one 
Lord,  one  faith,  one  hope."  Its  blessings 
have  all  flowed  from  one  and  the  same 
source,  the  unchangeable  Jesus.  A<lani  in 
Paradise  was  taught  to  look  to  iiim  [\n-  re- 
demption, Abraham  to  rejoice  in  him,  Job 
to  hope  in  him,  and  even  the  impious  Ba- 
laam to  admire  him.  As  for  Israel,  we  are 
expressly  told  that  "  the  gosjiel  was  preach- 
ed unto  them  as  well  as  unto  us."     Theii 


THE  ROCK  AT  HOREB. 


103 


sacrifices,  their  tabernacle,  their  temple, 
their  worship,  their  high-priest,  were  shad- 
ows of  it.  And  in  the  wilderness,  their 
very  sacraments  were  of  tlie  same  kind. 
"  Moreover,  brethren,"  says  the  apostle, 
"  I  would  not  that  ye  should  be  iijnorant 
how  that  all  our  fathers  were  under  the 
cloud,  and  all  passed  through  the  sea,  and 
were  all  baptized  unto  Moses  in  the  cloud 
and  in  the  sea  ;"  were  introduced,  as  it  were 
by  baptism,  into  the  profession  of  that  reli- 
gion which  Moses  was  to  teach  thrm  ;  were 
consecrated  unto  God  and  owned  by  him  as 
his  church  : — "  and  did  all  eat  the  same 
spiritual  meat,  and  did  all  drink  the  same 
spiritual  drink" — the  manna,  like  the  bread 
in  the  Lord's  supper,  typifying  the  body  of 
Ciirist,  and  the  water,  his  blood  and  Spirit. 
Roth  too  had  the  same  design  as  our  sacra- 
ments ;  thev  were  memorials  of  past  mer- 
cies and  pledges  of  future  blessings. 

We  have,  however,  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  all  the  Israelites  saw  the  Messiah  in 
these  faint  representations  of  him.  Proba- 
bly few  of  them  discovered  him,  and  fewer 
still  as  a  suffering  Redeemer.  Why  then 
was  he  thus  obscurely  revealed  ?  Alas, 
why  is  he  clearly  preached  to  us  ?  It  is 
the  same  in  Christian  England,  in  the  midst 
of  all  her  boasted  privileges,  as  in  the  camp 
of  Israel — they  are  many  who  hear  of  Christ, 
but  thev  are  few  indeed  who  really  know 
hjm.  "  The  light  shinetli  in  darkness,  and 
the  darkness  comprehendeth  rt  not." 

But  if  the  Jews  learned  nothing  from  their 
tvpps.  they  may  teach  us,  and  they  were 
desisined  to  teach  us,  that  there  is  but  one 
fountain  of  life  for  dying  man.  All  the 
ancient  streams  of  grace  came  from  the 
crucified  .Tesus ;  all  we  now  receive  is  out 
of  his  fulness  ;  and  the  springs  of  heaven 
are  in  him.  Those  rivers  of  pleasure  which 
are  (lowing  there,  "  proceed  out  of  the  throne 
of  God  and  the  Lamb."  It  is  still  the  Lamb, 
who  feeds  and  gladdens.  "  In  him,"  there- 
fore, it  is  said,  '•  all  things,  in  the  fulness  of 
time,  will  be  gathered  together  in  one  ;"  and 
of  him,  even  now,  "  the  whole  family  in 
heaven  and  earth  is  named." 

Hence  we  may  discover  here  ihe  great 
glory  of  Christ. 

The  rock  of  Iloreb  had  probably  no  pecu- 
liar magnificence  in  it,  yet  who  could  now 
look  on  it  without  admiration  ?  The  recol- 
lection that  it  once  preserved  the  lives  of 
two  millions  of  human  beings,  and  was  after- 
wards, for  nearly  forty  years,  a  source  to 


them  of  health  and  comfort,  would  invest  it 
with  no  common  grandeur. 

And  even  if  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  were 
not  glorious  in  himself — strip  him  of  the 
light  he  dwells  in,  silence  the  praises  cf 
heaven,  remove  far  away  the  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  adoring  spirits  who  wor- 
ship  at  his  footstool,  veil  him  once  again  in 
a  body  of  humiliation — yet  this  one  fact, 
that  ail  the  blessedness  which  sinners  ever 
knew,  has  sprung  from  him,  lays  the  be- 
liever at  his  feet  in  adoration  and  wonder. 
We  esteem  him  rich  who,  after  supplying 
his  own  wants,  has  still  wherewith  to  re- 
lieve the  wants  of  others ;  we  call  him 
great  who  has  preserved  a  nation  ;  but 
here  are  riches  that  have  made  unnumber- 
ed millions  blessed  forever,  and  a  power 
that  has  saved  a  world.  It  is  this  which 
causes  the  church  below  to  glory  in  nothing 
save  the  Redeemer's  cross  ;  it  is  this  which 
the  church  above  takes  as  the  subject  of  its 
loudest  praise.  It  was  the  prospect  of  this 
glory,  that  enabled  Christ  himself  to  "en- 
dure the  cross  and  despise  the  shame  ;"  it 
is  the  enjoyment  of  this  which  now  fills  and 
satisfies  his  soul.  And  when  the  Son  of 
man  at  the  last  great  day  shall  "  sit  on  the 
throne  of  his  glory,"  what  is  it  that  will 
make  him  so  glorious  there  ?  The  hosts  of 
mighty  angels  around  him  ?  an  assembled 
world  at  his  feet  ?  the  melting  away  before 
his  presence  of  the  earth  he  sufTered  on,  and 
of  the  sun  which  beheld  his  reproach  ?  No  : 
the  salvation  of  the  lost.  "  He  shall  come 
to  be  glorified  in  his  saints,  and  to  be  admired 
in  all  them  that  believe." 

Who  then  does  not  see  here  the  duty  of 
praise  ?  But  duty  is  too  poor  a  word.  Praise 
is  a  blessed  privilege.  A  sight  of  Christ  in 
the  glory  of  his  grace,  turns  it  into  a  feeling, 
an  impulse,  an  honor,  a  joy.  It  is  the  hap- 
piest work  in  which  the  Christian  is  ever 
engaged.  It  is  the  work  of  heaven.  It  lifts 
his  soul  upward  towards  heaven.  It  makes 
him  long  to  be  there.  And  it  shows  him, 
too,  that  he  is  going  there.  He  feels  him- 
self straitened  on  earth  ;  his  powers  fail 
him.  He  wants  his  heart  enlarged,  that 
it  may  hold  more  love  for  his  Saviour;  he 
wishes  for  a  thousand  tongues  to  magnify 
his  name. 

And  O  what  will  his  joy  be  when  he 
finds  himself  able  to  praise  the  Redeemer 
as  he  wishes  to  praise  him  ?  when  he  first 
hears  the  adorations  of  the  glorified  just, 
and  feels  that  he  can   join  in  their  song  ? 


104 


THi;  STREAMS  FROM  THE  ROCK  AT  HOREB. 


That  must  have  been  a  wonderful  shout  of 
joy,  which  was  heard  in  the  camp  of  Israel, 
when  the  water  first  gushed  from  the  rock  ; 
but  what  must  that  song  be  which  bursts 
from  the  countless  thousands  of  heaven 
around  the  throne  of  the  Lamb  ?  We  must 
be  content  to  wait  awhile  before  we  take 
our  part  in  it.  Our  love,  however,  in  the 
mean  time,  must  not  grow  cold.  It  must 
not  end  in  lively  feelings;  it  cannot  satisfy 
itself  with  empty  words.  If  it  be  that  love 
by  which  faith  works,  it  will  make  the  life 
holy,  as  well  as  the  heart  warm.  It  will 
strive  to  glorify  him  among  men,  whom  it 
hopes  to  praise  among  angels.  "  The  beast 
of  the  field  shall  honor  me,"  the  Lord  says, 
"  the  dragons  and  the  owls,  because  I  give 
waters  in  the  wilderness  and  rivers  in  the 
desert,  to  give  drink  to  my  people,  my  cho- 
sen." How  much  more  then  the  people 
whom  he  has  formed  for  himself!  "  They 
shall,"  he  says,  "show  forth  my  praise." 
Brethren,  is  this  scripture  fulfilled  in  you  ? 
Are  you  living  to  the  praise  of  redeeming 
love  ?  Are  you  beginning  on  earth  the 
work  of  heaven  ? 


SERMON    XX. 

THE  STREAMS  FROM  THE  ROCK  AT 
II0KE13. 

Psalm  Ixxviii.  IG. 
He  hroiight  sireatns  aUo  out  of  the  rock. 

There  were  two  rocks  opened  for  Israel 
in  the  wilderness  ;  one  at  Rcphidim,  soon 
after  their  departure  from  Egypt,  and  the 
other  at  Kadcsh,  about  two  y-cars  before 
their  entrance  into  Canaan.  Both  these 
are  alluded  to  in  the  verse  preceding  the 
te.xt.  Here  one  only  is  mentioned.  This 
is  probably  the  rock  which  was  smitten  bv 
Mosps  at  the  foot  of  mount  Horeb,  and 
which  we  have  the  authority  of  scripture 
for  viewing  as  a  representation  of  Christ. 

It  was  not  by  sacrifices  and  ceremonies 
only,  tliat  he  was  preached  to  the  ancient 
church.  Many  circumstances  were  per- 
mitted, and  many  e\ents  occurred,  pur- 
posely to  remind  them  of  their  great  De- 
liverer. This  was  one  of  them.  We  see 
piefigured  in  the  source  of  these  streams 


the  unchangeableness,  the  divine  appoint, 
ment,  and  the  sufFerings,  of  Christ ;  and 
in  the  water  itself,  the  mercies  which  his 
people  derive  from  his  blood  and  Spirit. 
The  uses  for  which  this  water  was  designed, 
plainly  represent  these  mercies.  They 
show  us,  brethren,  what  we  need,  and  what 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  exalted  to  give. 
O  may  he  open  our  eyes  to  discern  their 
value,  and  incline  our  hearts  to  desire  and 
seek  them  ! 

I.  The  stream  of  Rephidim  saved  the 
Israelites  from  perishing.  This  was  its  first 
and  chief  use.  And  it  saved  them,  too, 
when  nothing  else  could  save  thenu  The 
manna  could  not,  though  it  fell  from  heav- 
en. In  that  sultry  desert,  food  alone  is 
not  sufficient  for  the  support  of  life.  Its 
intense  heat  renders  water  absolutely  neces- 
sary,  while,  in  many  parts  of  it,  none  can 
be  obtained.  The  condition  of  these  wan- 
derers was,  therefore,  desperate  ;  and  no 
less  desperate  is  ours.  As  their  bodies 
had  wants,  so  have  our  souls;  and  wants 
which,  whether  we  feel  them  or  not,  must 
be  satisfied.  We  need  pardon,  we  need 
salvation.  And  whence  are  they  to  come  I 
From  ourselves  ?  from  our  tears  and  pray- 
ers ?  All  the  tears  thai  were  ever  shed, 
and  all  the  prayers  that  were  ever  olFered, 
could  no  more  blot  out  our  iniquities  or 
ransom  our  souls,  than  the  cries  of  Israel 
for  water  could  assuage  their  burning  thirst. 
And  the  Avorld  can  do  nothing  for  us.  It 
cannot  keep  even  our  bodies  from  the  grave ; 
much  less  our  souls  from  destruction.  "  But 
tlie  mercy  of  the  Lord — may  we  not  hope 
in  that  and  be  safe  ?"  As  well  might  this 
dying  people  have  hoped  in  mercy  for  life, 
while  they  refused  to  drink  of  the  stream 
which  mercy  had  provided  for  them.  In 
their  helpless  condition,  we  may  see  a  faint 
representation  of  our  own.  We  are  a  per- 
ishing people  ;  not  guilty  merely,  not  in  a 
critical,  dangerous  state  only,  but  lost,  alto- 
gether lost,  utterly  undone. 

We  see  then  the  great  end  of  the  Re- 
deemer's sufferings,  and  the  great  object 
he  has  in  view  in  sending  the  tidings  of 
them  to  us.  It  is  to  save  our  "  souls  alive," 
to  pluck  us  as  '-brands  out  of  the  burning." 
And  this  must  be  our  object  also  in  preach- 
ing the  gospel,  and  yours  in  hearing  it 
preached.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  ceremony 
that  we  are  now  engaged  in,  but  a  business 
j  of  life  and  di  alh.  It  is  not  knowledge,  nor 
I  hope,  nor  comfort,  no,   nor  even   holiness 


THE  STREAMS  FROM  THE  ROCK  AT  HOREB. 


105 


itself,  that  must  be  our  first  great  end  and 
aim  ;  it  is  the  redemption  of  our  immortal 
souls,  deliverance  from  the  wrath  to  come. 

II.  These  waters,  however,  did  more  than 
save.  Enabling  them  to  wash  away  the 
defilements  of  the  sandy  wilderness,  they 
served  to  cleanse  the  Israelites.  Herein  also 
they  testified  of  Christ. 

Sin  pollutes  while  it  destroys.  It  is  un- 
cleanness,  and  it  renders  unclean  every 
soul  that  it  enters.  It  has  entered  our 
souls,  and  made  every  heart  here,  like  the 
prophet's  chamber  of  imagery,  a  dark  store- 
house of  loathsome  abominations. 

And  we  are  altogether  unable  to  free 
oui-selves  from  it.  Where  sin  enters,  it 
abides.  So  dreadful  is  its  nature,  that  to 
be  its  victim  for  one  moment  is,  if  left  alone, 
to  be  its  victim  forever.  This  the  scrip- 
ture declares,  and  this  facts  prove.  Six 
thousand  years  ago  it  came  into  our  world. 
We  know  not  how  many  human  beings  have 
since  been  born  here  ;  but  this  we  know, 
that  sin  has  corrupted  them  all,  and  that 
among  them  all,  not  one  has  freed  himself 
from  its  pollution  ;  not  one  has  been  found, 
who  could  say,  "  I  have  made  my  heart 
clean  ;  I  am  pure  from  my  sin."  And  if 
we  look  away  from  worms  of  the  dust  to 
creatures  of  a  higher  order,  to  angels  that 
"  excel  in  strength,"  the  mournful  fact  is 
the  same.  Ages  since,  sin  turned  some  of 
the  brightest  of  their  host  into  devils,  and 
it  keeps  them  devils  still ;  as  unclean  as  at 
first,  and  as  unable  to  throw  off  its  dominion, 
as  the  feeblest  of  ourselves. 

Some  of  us  are  at  ease  in  this  sad  state. 
Either  we  are  insensible  of  its  vileness,  or, 
like  "  the  brute  beasts  that  have  no  under- 
standing," we  love  the  mire  that  pollutes 
us.  Others,  however,  are  not  at  ease. 
They  feel  their  uncleanness,  and  they  loathe 
it.  It  fills  them  with  self-abhorrence.  It 
is  their  shame,  their  grief,  and  their  bur- 
den. 

Now,  brethren,  to  such  of  you  as  arc 
thus  minded,  this  scripture  offers  direction 
and  comfort.  It  calls  you  off  from  your 
wearisome  efforts  to  cleanse  yourselves,  or 
rather  from  your  vain  confidence  in  them. 
It  tells  you,  that  though  you  continue  these 
efibrts  ever  so  long,  the  stains  on  your  souls 
will  grow  broader  anrl  deeper  every  dav. 
And  then  it  discovers  to  you  "  a  fountain 
opened  for  sin  and  for  uncleanness;"  it  bids 
you  wash  in  it ;  and  assures  you  that  who- 
soever washes  n  it,  it  is  able,  like  the  pool 
14 


at  Bethesda,  to  make  him  "whole  of  what- 
soever disease  he  hath."  "  Then  will  I 
sprinkle  clean  water  upon  you,"  said  the 
Lord  to  his  church  of  old,  "  and  ye  shall 
be  clean  ;  from  all  your  filthiness  and  from 
all  your  idols  will  I  cleanse  you."  "  The 
blood  of  Jesus  Christ,"  says  the  apostle, 
"cleanseth  from  all  sin,"  from  all  its  defile- 
ment, as  well  as  from  all  its  guilt.  And 
this  cleansing  virtue  is  ascribed  to  his  blood, 
because  he  obtained  for  his  church,  at  this 
costly  price,  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  that 
sanctifying  grace  which  he  now  sends  down 
into  the  hearts  of  his  people,  and  which 
"  worketh  effectually  in  them  that  believe," 
subduing,  purifying,  and  ennobling  them, 
till  it  makes  them  meet  for  heaven.  The 
Spirit  indeed  sanctifies,  but  that  sinners 
may  know  whence  this  blessing  comes  and 
where  it  must  be  sought,  the  Saviour  claims 
the  work  as  his  own  ;  and  the  Spirit  him- 
self speaks  of  it  as  his,  as  the  fruit  of  his 
love  and  death.  "Christ  also,"  he  says 
by  his  servant  Paul,  "  loved  the  church, 
and  gave  himself  for  it,  that  he  might  sanc- 
tify and  cleanse  it  witii  the  wasiiing  of 
water  by  the  word  ;  that  he  might  present 
it  to  himself  a  glorious  church,  not  having 
spot,  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing,  but  that 
it  should  be  holy  and  without  blemish." 

Do  you  ask  then,  brethren,  how  you 
may  escape  the  bondage  of  corruption  ? 
Look  out  of  yourselves  to  Christ  for  deliv- 
erance.  Labor  still  after  holiness,  but  let 
your  labor  be  "  in  the  Lord."  By  the 
exercise  of  a  simpl-e  faith,  make  Christ 
your  sanctification,  as  well  as  your  re- 
demption. Believe  him  able  to  heal  all 
the  diseases  of  your  souls,  and  treat  him 
as  though  he  were  willing.  Implore  him 
to  do  tiie  work  which  painful  expoi-ience 
has  taught  you  is  beyond  any  power  of 
your  own,  and  the  work  shall  be  done  ;  not 
so  completely  at  first  as  you  may  desire, 
nor  perhaps  by  the  means  you  expect,  but 
in  a  way  which  will  more  effectually  exalt 
your  Sanctifier,  and  benefit  you  ;  by  means 
which  may  perplex,  while  they  subdue  you, 
but  wiiich,  in  the  end,  will  leave  you  spot- 
less as  the  angels,  and  pure  as  the  spirits  of 
the  just ;  so  holy,  that  he  in  whose  sight 
the  heavens  are  not  clean,  shall  see  no 
iniquity  in  you  ;  so  faultless,  that  "  the 
only  wise  God  our  Saviour"  shall  "  pre- 
sent you  before  the  presence  of  his  glory," 
not  with  satisfaction  merelj  in  the  work 
of  his  hands,  but  "  with  exceeding  joy." 


106 


THE  STREAMS  FROM  THE  ROCK  AT  HOREB. 


III.  There  is  yet  another  use  for  wiiich 
this  stream  was  designed. 

Long  continued  thirst  in  any  climate 
brings  on  extreme  faintness,  as  well  as 
iTi  h  suffering.  In  the  eastern  deserts,  its 
effects  are  peculiarly  dreadful,  and  the  Is- 
raelites were  now  beginning  to  experience 
them.  Sinking  with  weariness  and  anguish, 
"  their  soul,"  we  are  told,  "  fainted  in 
them."  But  the  same  water  that  preserved 
their  lives,  renewed  their  strength.  It  so 
refreshed  them,  that  ceasing  from  their  mur- 
muring complaints,  they  rose  up,  and  after 
fighting  a  whole  day  with  the  Amalekites, 
they  overcame  them,  and  then  pressed  for- 
ward with  fresh  vigor  to  Canaan. 

In  like  manner,  the  waters  of  life,  the 
streams  of  salvation,  refresh  the  people  of 
God.  None  but  themselves  can  tell  how 
much  they  need  refreshment.  The  world 
which  others  love  so  well,  is  to  them  a  wil- 
derness. They  have  wants  that  it  cannot 
supply,  and  desires  that  it  cannot  gratify. 
It  vexes  them  too  with  its  sins,  and  burdens 
them  with  its  cares,  and  harasses  them  -with 
its  temptations.  And  even  were  it  not  so, 
were  the  world  a  paradise,  the  corruptions 
of  their  own  evil  hearts  would  turn  it  into 
a  desert.  Their  weakness,  their  unbelief, 
their  hardness,  their  sensuality,  their  des- 
perate wickedness  and  their  unconquerable 
pride  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  often  lay  them 
down  mourning  and  trembling.  A  sense 
of  guilt  also  sometimes  returns,  chilling 
and  darkening  their  souls,  turning  their 
songs  into  weeping  and  their  joy  into  heavi- 
ness. In  such  seasons  ti)ey  well  understand 
the  meaning  of  the  psalmist's  cry,  "Hear 
me  speedily,  O  Lord  :  my  spirit  faileth,  my 
spirit  is  overwhelmed  within  me,  my  heart 
within  me  is  desolate."  "  My  soul  thirsteth 
for  thee,  my  flesh  longeth  for  thee,  in  a  dry 
and  thirsty  land  wlicre  no  water  is." 

But  look  at  the  men  a  second  time.  They 
are  now  all  life,  vigor,  and  joy  ;  no  longer 
in  the  dust,  but  "  running  the  race  that  is 
set  before  them  ;"  liastening  on  to  heaven 
through  the  conflicts  of  this  troublesome 
world,  as  though  there  were  nothing  to 
hinder  them  in  their  course.  And  whence 
has  tliis  change  proceeded  ?  One  word 
will  explain  it  all — they  have  been  to 
Christ.  They  have  drunk  "  of  the  brook 
in  the  way;  therefore"  do  they  ''  lift  up  their 
head."  Able  to  bear  no  longer  the  pressure 
of  their  burdens,  and  wearied  out  witii  their 
fruitless  endeavors  to  find  rest  from  them,  I 


they  have  at  length  cast  themselves,  in  all 
their  wretchedness  and  guilt,  on  the  grace 
of  the  eternal  Saviour,  and  he  has  refieshed 
them.  Pouring  out  his  life-giving  Spirit 
upon  them,  he  has  quickened  their  faith  ; 
led  them  from  the  contemplation  of  their 
own  weakness  and  perils,  to  a  renewed  dis- 
covery of  liis  power  and  love  ;  disclosed  to 
them  afresh  the  richness,  and  freeness,  and 
faithfulness  of  his  promises;  taught  them 
to  lean  again  on  his  everlasting  arm  ;  and 
now  nothing  can  move  them.  The  strength 
of  Christ  is  within  them.  He  is  to  them 
as  "  rivers  of  water  in  a  dry  place."  "  He 
has  put  a  new  song  in  their  mouth,  even 
praise  unto  their  God." 

And  this  strong  consolation  is  no  more 
than  he  has  promised  to  all  his  fainting 
people  ;  no  more,  brethren,  than  the  most 
comfortless  of  you  are  encouraged  to  seek 
at  his  throne.  Hear  his  own  gracious  de- 
claration to  his  church  of  old  ;  "  When  the 
poor  and  needy  seek  water,  and  there  is 
none,  and  their  tongue  faileth  for  thirst,  I, 
the  Lord,  will  hear  them  ;  I,  the  God  of  Is- 
rael, will  not  forsake  them.  I  will  open 
rivers  in  high  places,  and  fountains  in  the 
midst  of  the  valleys :  I  will  make  the  wil- 
derness a  pool  of  water,  and  the  dry  land 
springs  of  water."  "  Then  shall  the  lame 
man  leap  as  an  hart,  and  the  tongue  of 
the  dumb  sing;  for  in  the  wilderness  shall 
waters  break  out,  and  streams  in  the  des- 
ert." And  where  but  in  Christ  can  you 
find  such  refreshment  as  this?  Where  out 
of  Christ  can  you  find  any  real  consolation 
at  all  ?  You  may  seek  it  in  the  world. 
Thousands  are  seeking  it  in  that  dry  land, 
but  they  are  chasing  the  shadows  of  the 
desert.  Fainting  with  thirst,  the  poor  trav- 
eller in  the  wilderness  sometimes  sees,  as 
he  imagines,  a  lake  of  water  before  him. 
In  vain  his  more  experienced  conipanions 
tell  him  that  the  sparkling  sand  is  mocking 
him  with  a  deceitful  show  ;  he  hurries  on, 
and,  though  the  wide-spreading  lake  seems 
to  fiy  from  him,  he  still  pursues  it.  And 
what  is  his  reward  ?  The  sickness  of  dis- 
appointment :  the  water  vanishes  at  last 
entirely  from  his  sight.  To  these  imagi- 
nary waters  Jeremiah  is  supposed  to  allude, 
when  he  speaks  of  "  waters  that  fail,"  or, 
as  it  is  translated  in  the  margin  of  our  Bi- 
bles, "waters  that  be  not  sure,"  that  have 
no  reality. 

And  look  at  the  man  again.  He  has 
now  before  him  a  plain  covered  with  bloom- 


THE  STREAMS  FROM  THE  ROCK  AT  HOREB. 


107 


ing  flowers  and  the  greenest  verdure.  His 
heart  bound.s  at  the  prospect.  "This,"  he 
says,  "  is  real.  O  that  blessed  spot !  If  I 
can  but  reach  it,  my  parched  tongue  will 
surely  find  ease  anil  refreshment  there." 
He  does  reach  it,  but  terrible  is  his  disap- 
pointment ;  the  herbs,  so  fair  to  the  eye, 
are  dry  as  ashes  and  bitter  as  wormwood. 

And  such  is  the  world.  Amidst  all  the 
comforts  left  in  it,  it  is  deceitful,  weari- 
some, and  bitter.  Half  the  things  in  it 
that  lead  us  from  God,  we  fail  to  obtain  ; 
we  find  them  shadows :  and  O  what  are 
some  of  those  we  do  grasp  ?  Sweet  for  a 
moment  to  the  taste,  but  the  gall  of  asps 
within  us. 

In  tlicse  three  uses  then,  the  waters  of 
Rephidini  and  the  mercies  of  the  gospel 
are  alikt — they  both  save,  cleanse,  and 
refresh. 

And  herein  they  remind  us,  first,  of  the 
close  connection  which  exists  between  the 
mercies  of  salvation  ;  of  their  mutual  rela- 
tion and  dependet)ce.  The  water  refreshed 
none  whom  it  had  not  first  saved ;  and  even 
its  power  to  cleanse  contributed,  in  no 
small  degree,  to  the  comfort  of  Israel. 

In  spiiitual  mercies  the  connection  is 
still  closer.  An  Israelite  might  have  car- 
ried about  with  him  a  polluted  body,  after 
the  reviving  waters  had  preserved  his  life; 
but  never  yet  has  there  been  found  one 
sinner  saved  by  the  blood  of  Christ,  and 
yet  not  cleansed  by  his  Spirit.  True,  this 
mighty  Deliverer  first  redeems;  but  then 
he  never  redeems  where  he  does  not  sanc- 
tify ;  nay,  he  redeems  for  this  express  pur- 
pose, that  he  may  sanctify.  "  He  gave 
liimself  for  us,  that  he  might  redeem  us 
from  all  iniquity,  and  purify  unto  himself  a 
peculiar  people,  zealous  of  good  works." 
The  scripture  goes  further  still,  and  tells 
us  that  he  sanctifies  us  in  redeeming.  It 
describes  the  very  faith  which  brings  the 
sinner  to  him,  as  a  holy  principle  working 
within  and  purifying  the  heart.  From  this 
redemption,  and  tiiis  sanctification,  comfort 
sooner  or  later  springs.  It  is  the  never- 
failing  rfHcl  of  an  humble  hope  of  the  one, 
and  a  heartfelt  experience  of  the  other. 
"  Now  the  God  of  hope,"  says  Saint  Paul, 
"  fill  you  with  peace  and  joy  in  believing." 
"  The  work  of  righteousness,"  says  Isaiah, 
"shall  be  peace,  and  the  efil'ct  of  righteous- 
ness, quietness  and  assurance  forever." 

We  see  then,  brethren,  that  we  cannot 
have  the  comforts  of  the  gospel,  without 


first  seeking  as  lost  sinners  its  salvation, 
without  first  seeking  as  polluted  sinners  its 
holiness.  There  is  no  comfort  in  heaven 
or  on  earth  for  the  unpardoned,  and  no  joy 
for  the  unclean.  You  wonder  perhaps  at 
the  little  consolation  the  gospel  brings  you. 
Wonder  rather,  that  in  a  guilty,  perishing, 
and  polluted  world,  you  have  been  too 
earthly-minded  to  think  of  pardon,  too  self- 
righteous  to  accept  of  a  free  salvation,  too 
much  in  love  with  sin  to  follow  after  holi- 
ness. Is  it  strange  that  the  judge  does  not 
strew  with  flowers  the  path  winch  leads  the 
cyiminal  to  execution.  Is  it  strange  that  the 
condemned  sinner  should  find  tlie  way  to 
destruction  cheerless  ?  Would  you  go  re- 
joicing into  a  world  of  eternal  mourning  ? 
Begin  aright.  Let  your  first  prayer  be, 
not,  "  Lord,  comfort  me  ;"  but,  "  Lord,  save 
me."  "  Wash  me  thoroughly  from  mine 
iniquity,  and  cleanse  me  from  my  sin." 

And  those  whose  peace  is  interrupted, 
may  learn  here  how  it  may  be  restored. 
When,  brethren,  did  real  joy  first  spring  up 
in  your  soul  ?  Which  was  the  first  truly 
happy  moment  you  ever  knew  ?  Was  it  not 
that  which  found  you  a  weeping  suppliant 
for  pardon  ?  Was  it  not  that  wherein  you 
first  hoped  for  salvation  ?  Was  it  not  when, 
loathing  your  old  hard  heart  of  stone,  you 
were  supplicating  of  the  Holy  Spirit  a  new 
and  feeling  heart,  a  heart  of  flesh  ?  Herein 
then  your  own  experience  mu.st  be  your 
guide.  Harass  yourselves  no  longer  with 
taking  useless  counsel  with  your  soul.  "Do 
the  first  works."  Lie  low  among  the  guilty 
and  unclean  before  the  cross.  There  peace 
found  you  at  first;  there  wait  for  peace 
again.  Mark  the  conduct  of  the  mourning 
David.  He  asks,  in  the  fifty-first  psalm, 
for  the  joy  he  had  lost ;  but  it  is  from  sal- 
vation he  expects  it :  "  Restore  unto  me  the 
joy  of  thy  salvation."  And  what  had  he 
asked  before  ?  That  without  which,  he  well 
knew,  joy  could  never  come — the  blotting 
out  of  liis  transgressions,  and  the  cleansing 
of  his  sins :  "  Hide  thy  face  from  my  sins, 
and  blot  all  my  iniquities.  Create  in  me  a 
clean  heart,  O  God,  and  renew  a  right  spirit 
within  me." 

These  streams  remind  us  also,  by  their 
uses,  oithe  misery  of  the  worM  without  Christ. 
It  is  without  salvation,  without  holiness, 
without  consolation  ;  perishing,  unclean, 
comfortless.  Such  the  subject  we  have 
been  considering  represents  it ;  such  expe- 
rience finds  it. 


108 


THE  STREAMS  FROM  THE  ROCK  AT  HOREB. 


Anil  it  is  not  a  small  portion  of  the  world 
to  which  this  description  applies.  Six  hun- 
dred millions  at  least  of'our  fellow-creatures 
are  at  the  present  moment  in  this  2:rievous 
state.  It  was  through  many  generations 
the  portion  of  their  fathers;  if  let  alone,  it 
will  be  the  portion  of  their  children.  And 
all  this  time,  we  and  our  fathers  have  had 
the  streams  of  mercy,  the  still  waters  of 
comfort,  flowing  at  our  very  doors;  and 
'  streams  so  abundant,  that  they  would  save 
a  world. 

ThanKsgiving  is  our  first  duty  :  but  what 
is  our  second  ?  Surely  this  :  to  hold  out  to 
the  thirsty  heathen  the  same  cup  of  salva- 
tion that  has  refreshed  us.  Among  the 
thousands  of  Israel,  was  there  one  al low- 
zed  to  remain  in  ignorance  of  the  miracle 
wrought  for  the  camp  at  Horeb  ?  No  ;  the 
shout  of  those  who  first  saw  the  water  burst 
forth,  was  undoubtedly  heard  afar ;  and 
they  who  drank  of  the  stream  must  surely 
have  been  eager  to  spread  the  tidings  of  it 
to  every  sufferer.  Thus  too  they  who  be- 
held the  wonders  of  Calvary,  acted.  As 
long  as  life  remained,  they  went  "  into  all 
the  world,  and  preached  the  gospel  to  every 
creature."  We  have  not  been  like-minded, 
neither  were  our  fathers ;  but  Christian  love 
is  now  waking  from  its  long  sleep.  The  cries 
of  our  fellow.pilgrims  in  this  howling  wil- 
derness are  heard  ;  ihey  have  reached  you, 
and  you  in  some  poor  measure  have  already 
answered  thein.  But  millions  are  yet  perish- 
ing in  misery ;  their  cry  is  piercing  as  ever. 
O  let  not  your  pity  fail !  let  not  your  hearts 
grow  cold.  Never  drink  for  a  single  day  of 
the  rock  that  follows  you,  without  a  prayer 
that  its  streams  may  run  and  be  glorified 
through  all  the  earth. 

We  have  yet  another  and  still  more  im- 
portant truth  brought  before  us  here :  the 
necessity  of  a  persona/,  application  of  the 
mercies  of  the  gospel  to  ourselves. 

Whom  among  the  thousands  of  Israel  did 
the  stream  in  the  desert  save  1  Those  who 
heard  of  it  ?  those  who  saw  and  admired  it? 
those  wJio  merely  longed  for  it  ?  No ;  "  they 
drank  of  that  spiritual  rock  that  followed 
them."  Though  opened  by  God  himself  for 
their  relief,  they  never  thought  for  a  mo- 
ment of  being  preserved  by  its  waters  till 
they  had  actually  received  them  within 
their  lips. 

Need  1  say  that  in  spiritual  things  the  case 


is  the  same  ?  that  we  must  make  the  salva- 
tion of  Christ  our  own  before  it  can  save  us  ? 
Alas !  what  is  there  that  we  need  to  liave 
more  often  sounded  in  our  ears  than  this 
simple  truth  ?  It  is  here  that  so  many  of 
us  fail.  We  hear  of  a  glorious  salvation 
wrought  out  for  perishing  man  by  a  glorious 
Saviour;  we  know  something  of  its  nature  ; 
we  profess  to  desire  it  for  ourselves,  and 
we  actually  expect  when  we  die  to  obtain  it. 
Perhaps  we  go  further.  We  teach  our  chil- 
dren its  wondrous  plan  ;  we  speak  of  it  to 
our  friends  ;  we  are  ready  to  help  in  send- 
ing its  glad  tidings  to  heathen  lands ;  but 
all  this  while,  not  a  single  attempt  have  we 
made  to  secure  an  interest  in  it  for  our- 
selves ;  we  have  not  so  much  as  once  earn- 
estly asked  for  it.  We  expect  to  be  pre- 
served  by  a  remedy  we  have  never  taken, 
to  be  refreshed  by  water  we  have  never 
tasted,  to  be  happy  in  a  salvation  we  have 
never  sought.  Our  religion  is  not  a  personal 
thing  ;  and  this  one  defect  in  it  mars  it  all. 
"  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,"  is  the  de- 
claration of  Christ,  "  except  ye  eat  the  flesh 
of  the  Son  of  man  and  drink  his  blood,  ye 
have  no  life  in  you." 

The  cause  of  this  fatal  mistake  is  plain. 
We  do  not  feel,  like  Israel,  the  misery  of 
our  state ;  we  are  rather  in  the  condition 
of  men  dying  with  hunger,  and  yet  loathing 
the  only  food  that  can  save  them.  We  have 
no  thirst  for  the  waters  of  life.  Either  we 
know  not  our  need  of  them,  or  they  are  too 
spiritual  and  heavenly  for  our  taste.  The 
root  of  the  evil  lies  in  our  own  earthly  and 
sensual  minds,  and  there  the  remedy  must 
be  applied.  And  who  can  apply  it  1  Who 
can  reach  a  heart  buried  in  worldly  cares 
and  crowded  with  worldly  desires?  None 
but  he  who  formed  it  at  first.  It  is  in  "  the 
day  of  his  power,"  that  his  people  are  will- 
ing. It  is  when  he  has  opened  the  heart, 
that  the  heart  welcomes  his  mercy.  To 
him  therefore  we  must  go,  not  merely  for 
salvation,  or  for  the  faith  that  lays  hold  of 
salvation,  but,  so  low  are  we  fallen,  for  a 
willingness  to  be  saved,  for  even  the  very 
desire  of  deliverance.  Prayer  is  the  first 
step  towards  heaven  ;  and  this  is  the  first 
blessing  that  prayer  must  sue  for,  the  quick- 
ening grace  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ;  that 
hungering  and  thirsting  after  Christ,  which 
he  only  can  satisfy,  and  he  only  can 
give. 


THE  FLOWING  OF  THE  STREAMS  FROM  IIOREB. 


109 


SERMON    XXI. 

THE  FLOWLXG  OV  TUK  STREAMS  FROM 
HOREB. 

Pbalm  cv.  41. 

He  opened  the  rock,  and  the  waters  gushed  out; 
they  ran  in  the  dry  places  like  a  river. 

Wherever  we  see  mercy,  tlierc  Christ 
also  may  be  seen.  Indeed,  if  we  loved  him 
as  we  ought,  we  should  see  him  every- 
M'here,  in  every  object  we  behold,  as  well 
as  in  every  eomfi)rt  we  enjoy.  Thus  was 
it  with  Saint  Paul.  He  knew  that  "of 
him,  and  through  him,  and  to  him,  are  all 
things;"  and  in  all  he  saw,  or  heard  of, 
or  experienced,  he  discovered  his  beloved 
Lord.  He  found  him  with  Israel  in  the 
desert.  He  shows  him  to  us  at  Repliidim. 
Ill  the  rock  which  supplied  the  thirsty  mul- 
titude with  water,  we  have  an  emblem  of 
his  unchangeableness,  divine  appointment, 
and  sufferings ;  and  in  the  water  itself,  a 
representation  of  his  saving,  cleansing,  and 
refreshing  grace. 

There  is  yet  one  point  more  in  which  the 
comparison  holds,  and  one  which  gives  fresh 
interest  and  value  to  all  the  rest.  It  is 
brought  before  us  in  the  text.  The  psalm- 
ist describes  the  manner  in  which  the  wa- 
ters flowed  from  the  opened  rock,  and,  in 
doing  so,  reminds  us  of  the  gracious  terms 
on  which  the  rich  blessings  of  salvation  are 
bestowed. 

I.  "  He  opened  the  rock."  It  is  clear 
then  that  the  waters  of  which  the  Israelites 
drank,  were  not  of  tlieir  own  discovering,  or 
procuring,  or  deserving,  but  the  unmerited 
gifts  of  divine  mercy.  They  flowed  from  the 
rock  freelj/  ;  and  the  thirsty  people  drank 
of  them  without  cost  or  labor. 

We  are  all  ready  to  admit  in  part  the 
comparison  which  occurs  to  us  here.  We 
are  all  aware  tliat  man  had  no  more  to  do 
with  providing  a  Saviour  for  the  world, 
than  he  had  with  creating  the  world.  But 
the  most  important,  because  the  most  prac- 
tical part  of  this  resemblance,  many  of  us 
are  slow  to  perceive.  We  cannot  be  per- 
suaded that  he  who  has  freely  provided  sal- 
vation for  us  will  allow  us  freely  to  take  it. 
Our  self-righteousness,  the  dreadful  pride 
of  our  heart,  stands  in  our  way ;  so  that 
we  disdain  to  accept  even  the  glories  of 
heaven  without  having  done  something  to 
procure  them.     Look  at  the  great  mass  of 


professing  Christians:  what  is  tlioir  reli. 
gion  ?  The  suing  of  condemned  criminals 
for  pardon?  The  imploringof  starving  beg- 
gars for  bread  ?  Far  from  it.  It  is  the  toil- 
ing  of  a  hireling  for  wages  ;  the  attempt  of  a 
worm  to  climb  by  its  own  ellorts  to  tiie  skies. 

And  even  when  tiie  Spirit  of  Christ  begins 
to  humble  the  heart,  the  heart  opens  itself 
slowly  and  reluctantly  to  the  reception  of 
this  truth.  The  sinner  feels  now  that  he 
really  needs  mercy ;  but  then  he  still  clings 
to  the  idea  that  he  must  do  something  to 
make  himself  a  proper  ol)ject  of  mercy. 
He  despairs  of  deserving  heaven,  but  he 
yet  hopes  to  deserve  that  grace  which  leads 
to  heaven.  "  I  know,"  he  says,  "  that  I  am 
a  sinner  ;  I  feel  that  I  am  a  lost  sinner.  If 
I  am  ever  saved,  it  must  be  grace  that  saves 
me.  But  can  such  a  wretch  as  I,  with  such 
a  heart  as  mine,  dare  to  hope  for  salvation  ? 
No.  This  hard  heart  must  be  more  tho- 
roughly broken,  my  guilt  must  be  more 
deeply  bewailed,  my  :>ins  must  be  in  some 
degree  subdued ;  then  will  I  venture  to 
draw  near  to  the  great  Saviour,  and  implore 
the  cleansing  of  his  blood." 

But  the  scripture  speaks  a  different  lan- 
guage. It  represents  the  gospel  as  designed 
for  the  express  purpose  of  showing  "  the 
exceeding  riches"  of  Jehovah's  grace  ;  and 
so  planned  and  ordered,  that  all  whom  it 
saves,  are  saved  to  "the  glory  of  his  grace." 
In  other  words,  it  is  intended  not  merely  to 
save  the  transgressor,  but  so  to  save  him, 
that  all  may  see  in  his  salvation  the  won- 
derful grace  of  God.  It  follows  therefore 
that  any  merit  of  any  kind,  on  our  pan, 
would  entirely  frustrate  the  design  of  the 
gospel.  It  would  turn  its  mercy  into  jus- 
tice, and  its  grace  into  debt.  It  would,  in 
fact,  place  us  out  of  its  reach. 

Accordingly  we  find  that  whenever  the 
gospel  offers  us  mercy,  it  offers  it  as  pure 
mercy  ;  as  a  gift  for  which  no  price  is  de- 
manded, and  which  looks  for  nothing  in  its 
receiver,  but  want  and  misery.  This  is 
its  gracious  proclamation,  and  the  prophet 
seems  to  labor  in  it  for  words  to  express 
the  frecness  of  its  terms  ;  "  Ho,  every  one 
that  thirsteth  ;  come  ye  to  the  waters  ;  and 
he  that  hath  no  money,  come  ye,  buy  and 
eat ;  yea,  come,  buy  wine  and  milk,  with- 
out iTioney  and  without  price."  And  as 
though  this  were  not  enough,  as  though  his 
servant  had  not  even  yet  sufficiently  de- 
clared the  freeness  of  his  love,  the  ascended 
Jesus  takes  up  his  language  j  "  I  am  Al- 


10 


THE  FLOWING  OF  THE  STREAMS  FROM  HOREB. 


pha  and  Omr^ga,  the  beginning  and  the  end. 
I  will  give  unto  him  that  is  athirst,  of  the 
fountain  of  the  water  of  life  freely."  And 
in  anotlier  ])lace  he  adds  yet  to  the  force  of 
this  invitation,  and  then  leaves  it  in  his 
word  as  his  last  call  of  mercy  to  perish- 
ing man  ;  "  I  Jesus  have  sent  mine  angel 
to  testify  unto  you  these  things  in  the 
churches."  "  And  the  Spirit  and  the  Bride 
say,  Come.  And  let  him  that  heareth  say, 
Come.  And  let  him  that  is  athirst,  come. 
And  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water 
of  life  freely." 

One  thing  then  is  clear,  that  the  bless- 
ings of  the  gospel  are  as  free  to  sinners,  as 
the  stream  in  the  wilderness  was  to  Israel. 
Desert  is  no  more  required  in  the  one  case, 
than  in  the  other.  The  only  qualification 
demanded  is  a  sense  of  need — thirst,  de- 
sire, a  willing  mind. 

But  now  comes  the  question — To  whom 
are  these  rich  mercies  thus  freely  offered  ? 
Let  us  turn  to  the  desert  for  an  answer. 

II.  The  water  flowed  openly  there.  No 
barrier  was  raised  around  it.  It  "  ran  in 
the  dry  places,"  the  places  where  it  was 
most  needed,  "  like  a  river,"  open  to  all 
who  chose  to  drink  of  it,  and  at  all  times. 

And  of  just  the  same  boundless  extent  is 
the  salvation  of  Christ.  When  the  fountain 
of  his  grace  was  opened,  it  was  left  open  ; 
And  for  whom  1  Not  for  a  select  company 
of  favored  individuals  only,  nor  for  a  few 
of  the  least  guilty  of  our  race,  but  for  a 
perishing  world.  All  alike  need  it;  and 
wherever  the  tidings  of  it  come,  all  alike 
are  invited- to  take  of  it.  None  are  exclu- 
ded, none  are  preferred.  The  vilest  of 
ourselves  is  as  welcome  at  the  cross  as  the 
best ;  as  welcome  as  a  Paul,  or  a  Peter,  or 
a  John  ;  yea,  as  welcome  to  all  "  the  un- 
searchable riches  of  Christ,"  as  the  spirits 
of  the  just  to  the  blessedness  of  heaven. 
"If  any  man  thirst,"  cried  the  Saviour 
aloud  among  a  multitude  eager  to  shed  his 
blood,  "  lot  him  come  unto  mc  and  drink." 
And  after  this  desperate  people  had  actu- 
ally crucitied  the  Lord  of  glory,  we  hear 
Peter  declaring,  declaring  in  the  hearing 
of  the  very  murderers  of  his  Lord,  and  de- 
claring .expressly  to  them,  '•  Whosoever 
shall  call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord,  shall 
be  saved."  And  the  testimony  of  scripture 
is  everywhere  the  same.  Its  invitations, 
Its  promises,  its  commands,  its  entreaties, 
its  very  threatenings,  all  proclaim  aloud 
that  the  salvation  of  the  gospel  is  as  open 


as  it  is  free,  that  there  is  not  a  contri(e  sin- 
ner on  the  eai-th  excluded  fi'om  its  bless- 
ings. 

It  is  cruel  then  to  limit  its  offers  of  mer- 
cy, because  they  are  sometimes  abused  ; 
and  it  is  still  more  cruel  to  explain  them 
away,  because  they  encumber  some  favor- 
ite system.  We  are  standing  among  dying 
men,  and  while  we  are  indulging  our  fears 
or  contending  for  our  systems,  they  are 
perishing.  Our  duty  is  plain.  It  is  to 
leave  God  to  control  "  the  foolishness  that 
perverteth  his  way,"  and  fearlessly  to  pub- 
lish his  great  salvation.  It  is  to  point  to 
the  Saviour  lifted  up  on  the  cross,  and  say, 
"  Whosoever  believeth  in  him  shall  be 
saved." 

I  am  not  setting  up  this  truth  in  opposi- 
tion to  any  other  of  "  the  faithful  and  true 
sayings  of  God."  There  is  indeed  none 
more  precious,  none  to  which  a  guilty  sin- 
ner would  more  desire  to  cling ;  but  "  all 
scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God," 
and  the  man  who  "  trerableth  at  his  word," 
will  receive  all  with  the  same  simple  be- 
lief. I  am  not  to  reject  or  forget  any  part 
of  my  Bible,  because  my  feeble  understand- 
ing cannot  discover  its  agreement  with  some 
other  part.  I  am  not  called  on  to  reconcile 
its  declarations,  but  to  believe  them.  Once 
admitted  into  my  heart,  they  will  reconcile 
themselves.  And  nothing  but  the  experi- 
ence of  faith  can  reconcile  them.  Their 
power  must  be  felt  before  their  harmony 
can  be  known. 

Here  then  we  have  a  sure  and  broad 
foundation  for  a  sinner  to  rest  on — the 
waters  of  life  flow  openly  and  freely  ;  they 
are  to  be  had  without  money  or  price  by 
all  who  desire  them.  Brethren,  do  you  de- 
sire them  ?  Are  you,  at  least,  conscious 
of  your  urgent  need  of  them  ?  Is  sin  your 
burden,  your  grief,  your  dread  ?  Are  you 
willing  to  accept  deliverance  from  it  ? 
Then  say  no  more  with  the  sorrowing  wo- 
men who  were  seeking  their  Lord,  "  Who 
shall  roll  us  away  the  stone?"  the  stone  is 
already  gone  ;  the  fountain  of  mercy  is 
ah-eady  unlocked  ;  the  Avay  to  it  is  as  open 
and  plain,  as  infinite  love  can  make  it.  As 
for  fitness,  in  the  willing  mind  which  the 
Spirit  has  given  you,  you  have  all  that  God 
requires,  all  )^ou  ever  can  have,  all  that  the 
redeemed  in  glory  ever  possessed.  Think 
again  of  the  fainting  Jews.  Did  they  re- 
fuse the  water  from  the  rock  because  they 
had  just  before  been  murmuring  against 


THE  FLOWING  OF  THE  STREAMS  FROM  HOREB. 


HI 


him  wlio  gave  it  ?  Did  they  plead  their 
guilt,  or  tiieir  extreme  suliering,  or  their 
dying  state,  as  a  reason  why  they  should 
hesitate  to  drink  of  the  stream  ?  Did  they 
talk  of  waiting  till  their  thirst  and  misery 
were  partially  ;>one  ?  No  ;  they  joyfully 
"drank  of  the  i(»i;k  that  followed  them," 
and  they  were  \v  .onie  to  its  waters.  Imi- 
tate their  cond  The  stream  of  mercy 
is  flowing  down  fiom  the  lofty  heavens  to 
your  feet.  D.mk  of  it,  that  you  perish 
not.  In  the  n)!.lst  of  all  that  is  grieving 
and  discouraging  you,  cast  yourselves  just 
as  you  are  on  the  free  grace  of  the  Lord. 
"  Be  not  afraid,  only  believe,"  is  the  lan- 
guage of  Christ ;  now,  at  length,  let  the 
answer  of  each  one  of  you  be,  "  Lord,  I 
believe  ;  help  thou  mine  unbelief." 

III.  If  this  encouragement  be  not  enough, 
the  text  suggests  to  us  more.  It  describes 
the  waters  as  flowing  abundantly  in  the  wil- 
derness ;  >'  He  opened  the  rock,  and  the 
waters  gushed  out,"  as  though  eager  to 
be  gone  where  they  were  so  much  needed  ; 
"  they  ran  in  the  dry  places,"  not  in  a 
scanty  rivulet,  but  '•  like  a  river."  And 
in  the  seventy-eighth  psalm,  their  abun- 
dance is  yet  more  strikingly  portrayed. 
They  are  no  longer  spoken  of  as  a  solitary 
river,  but  as  "  rivers,"  as  "  overflowing 
streams,"  and,  at  length,  as  seas  ;  "  He 
gave  them  drink  as  out  of  the  great  depths." 

And  the  very  same  language  is  employed 
to  set  forth  the  love  of  Christ  in  its  abun- 
dance. "  The  glorious  Lord,"  Isaiah  says, 
"  will  be  unto  us  a  place  of  broad  rivers 
and  streams."  But  broad  rivers  are  not 
always  deep  ;  another  prophet  therefore 
completes  the  description.  Ezekiel  beheld 
in  vision  the  same  stream  of  mercy  as 
"  waters  to  swim  in,"  as  a  river  so  deep 
that  it  could  not  be  passed  over.  The  apos- 
tles of  our  Lord  bear  the  like  testimony. 
Peter  speaks  of  his  "  abundant  mercy  ;" 
Paul,  of  his  "  exceeding  abundant  grace." 
And  what  a  high  expression  is  that  which 
he  uses  in  his  epistle  to  the  Colossians  ! 
"  It  pleased  the  Father  that  in  him  should 
all  fulness  dwell."  He  is  not  only  gra- 
cious, but  there  is  in  him  the  "  fulness"  of 
grace  ;  "  all"  its  fulness  ;  he  is  its  great, 
its  only  storehouse,  so  that  there  is  no  grace 
to  be  found  in  the  universe  out  of  him. 
And  in  him  it  "  dwells,"  rests  and  abides. 

Now  all  this,  it  may  be,  when  referring 
generally  to  the  grace  that  is  in  Christ,  we 
readily  believe.   The  difliculty  begins  when 


some  particular  operation  of  his  love  is  sin. 
gled  out,  and  more  especially  when  that 
happens  to  be  the  very  mercy  which  we 
most  need.  Then  unbelief  begins  to  ques- 
tion and  limit  ;  praise  is  changed  into  si- 
lence, and  admiration  into  doubt. 

"  My  sins,"  says  one,  "  are  too  numer- 
ous, too  aggravated,  too  enormous,  for  par- 
don." The  Bible,  however,  speaks  of  a 
blood  that  "cleanseth  from  all  sin;"  of  sins 
which  were  once  "as  scarlet,"  now  "white 
as  snow ;"  of  a  pardon  so  extensive  and  full, 
that  it  casts  all  our  sins  into  the  very  "  depths 
of  the  sea."  It  admits  that  sin  abounds  ; 
it  takes  the  matter  up  just  as  we  represent 
it ;  but  it  testifies,  at  the  same  time,  of  a 
grace  that  "  much  more  abounds."  And 
then,  for  a  confirmation  of  its  testimony,  it 
shows  us  a  Manasseh  pardoned,  a  David 
saved,  an  executed  criminal  entering  with 
Christ  into  paradise. 

"  My  sins  might  be  pardoned,"  says 
another,  "  for  what  cannot  infinite  grace 
forgive  ?  but  this  fillhy  heart  never  can  be 
cleansed.  Sin  reigns  in  my  inmost  soul. 
O  wretched  man  tiiat  I  am,  who  shall  de- 
liver me  ?"  And  then  comes  the  despair, 
ing  conclusion  of  idolatrous  Israel  of  old  ; 
"  There  is  no  hope,  no  ;  for  I  have  loved 
strangers,  and  after  them  will  I  go."  But 
what  is  the  answer  of  Israel 's  God  ?  "  From 
all  your  filthiness  will  I  cleanse  you." 
"  Sin  shall  not  have  dominion  over  you." 
"  My  grace  is  sufficient."  He  bids  us  list- 
en to  the  prayer  of  one  of  the  guiltiest  of 
our  race,  a  prayer  which  Avas  answered, 
a  prayer  which  he  has  preserved  in  his 
word,  that  we  may  take  it  as  our  own  : 
"  Purge  me  with  hyssop,  and  I  shall  be 
clean  ;  wash  me,  and  I  shall  be  whiter 
thansnow."  He  tells  us  of  a  Saul  "breath- 
ing out  threatenings  and  slaughter"  against 
his  disciples  one  hour,  and  the  next  a  trem- 
bling suppliant  at  his  feet  ;  of  one  too  vile 
to  live,  enabled  in  the  agonies  of  death  to 
discover  in  an  expiring  malefactor  the  King 
of  heaven,  displaying  a  humility  and  a  faith 
which  magnify  the  sanctifying  power  of 
God,  even  more  than  the  salvation  he  found 
exalts  his  mercy. 

"Pardon  and  grace,"  says  a  third  sinner, 
"I  may  find,  but  comfort  is  not  fir  me  ;  my 
misery  is  too  deep,  my  heart  too  completely 
broken.  Let  others  talk  of  peace  ;  I  shall 
go  softly  all  my  years  in  the  bitterness  of 
my  soul.  My  only  consolation  lies  in  this, 
that  the  time  is  short ;  and  this  is  my  only 


112 


THE  FLOWING  OF  THE  STREAMS  FROM  HOREB. 


earthly  hope,  tliat  the  days  of  darkness 
between  me  and  the  grave  may  be  but 
few."  This  is  often  the  saddest  case  of  all, 
but  this  the  gospel  meets.  "  The'  Lord 
hath  anointed  me,"  says  Christ,  "  to  com- 
fort all  that  mourn  ;  he  hath  sent  me  to 
heal  the  broken-hearted."  And  how  does 
he  fulfil  his  oHice  ?  Patiently,  tenderly, 
effectually.  "  As  one  whom  liis  mother 
comforteth,  so  will  I  comfort  you,  and  ye 
shall  be  comforted."  Look  at  Peter.  Was 
there  not  a  time  when  his  tears  were  as 
bitter  as  yours,  and  his  grief  as  pungent, 
and  his  heart  as  despairing  ?  And  yet 
this  man  speaks  afterwards,  like  one  who 
was  experiencing  it,  of  a  "joy  unspeakable 
and  full  of  glory."  Look  at  Paul — "  sor- 
rowful, yet  always  rejoicing;"  the  most 
afflicted  man  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and 
yet  the  happiest. 

Brethren,  there  is  but  one  sorrow,  but 
one  sin,  but  one  evil,  for  which  there  is  not 
in  Christ  a  remedy  ;  and  that  is  despair, 
obdurate  unbelief  of  his  word.  Need  what 
we  may,  desire  what  we  may,  he  "is  able 
to  do  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that 
we  ask  or  think ;"  and  if  we  inquire  what 
he  is  willing  to  do,  this  is  the  measure  of 
his  bounty,  "  My  God  shall  supply  all  your 
need,  according  to  his  riches  in  glory  by 
Christ  Jesus." 

Nor  is  this  a  transient  supply. 

IV.  The  stream  from  Horeb  ran  in  the 
wilderness  "consta/t//?/.  Neither  a  burning 
sun  nor  a  thirsty  soil  could  dry  it  up,  nor 
time  nor  distance  lessen  it.  During  eighf 
and  thirty  years  it  followed  Israel  in  all 
their  wanderings.  At  Kadesh  indeed  it 
failed — why,  we  know  not — but  the  mira- 
cle was  again  renewed,  and  the  people  still 
"  drank  of  the  rock  that  followed  them," 
till  they  entered  Canaan. 

Thus  constant  in  its  communication  is 
the  grace  of  Christ.  It  is  as  lasting  as  it  is 
abundant.  It  took  its  rise  in  the  eternal 
ages  that  are  gone  ;  it  entered  the  world 
as  soon  as  sin  had  made  a  way  for  it ;  it 
has  ever  since  been  flowing  on  like  a  mighty 
river,  widening  and  deepening  as  it  goes, 
and  it  will  flow  on  as  long  as  there  is  a 
mourner  to  be  comforted,  or  a  sinner  to  be 
cleansed.  No  drought  can  exhaust,  nor 
cold  arrest  it.  "  Living  waters,"  saith  the 
Lord,  "shall  go  out  from  Jerusalem,  half  of 
of  them  toward  the  former  sea,  and  half  of 
them  toward  the  hinder  sea  :  in  summer 
and  in  winter  shall  it  be."     And  in  eter- 


nity the  stream  of  grace  shall  not  be  lost ; 
it  will  be  seen  in  heaven  a  pure  river  of 
life,  making  "glad  the  city  of  God,"  a  sea 
of  salvation,  an  ocean  of  blessedness. 

But  we  may  bring  this  truth  more  closely 
home  to  ourselves.  The  grace  of  Christ 
follows  the  church  in  all  ages  ;  but  this  is 
not  all — it  follows  every  member  of  that 
church,  every  Israelite  indeed,  through  all 
his  earthly  pilgrimage.  And  herein  it 
reminds  us  of  these  four  truths. 

1.  We  always  need  this  grace.  All  of 
us  always  need  it ;  not  merely  the  careless 
sinner  and  the  fearful  penitent ;  the  holiest 
and  the  happiest  man  here  needs  it  as  much 
as  the  most  guilty  and  comfortless.  In  this 
respect,  brethren,  there  was  no  difference 
between  the  apostle  Paul  and  the  poor 
idolaters  he  preached  to ;  in  this  respect, 
there  is  no  difference  between  the  best  of 
you,  and  the  vilest  heathen  on  the  earth. 
Grace  does  not  render  the  soul  independent ; 
it  does  not  make  it  less  needy  in -itself.  It 
supplies  its  wants,  but  it  prevents  not  those 
wants  from  returning  again.  The  food  of 
yesterday  does  not  satisfy  the  hunger  of 
to-day.  The  rain  which  refreshed  your 
fields  and  pastures  in  the  last  spring,  is  not 
sufficient  for  their  supply  in  this.  Your 
bodies  do  not  more  need  daily  bread,  than 
your  souls  need  daily  grace. 

And  it  will  ever  be  so.  It  matters  not 
how  long  you  have  tasted  that  the  Lord  is 
gracious,  nor  how  near  to  heaven  his  mer- 
cy may  have  brought  you  ;  let  mercy  and 
grace  cease  to  follow  you,  the  consequence 
is  certain — you  are  lost. 

And  who  that  loves  the  Saviour,  would 
wish  it  to  be  otherwise  ?  There  is  nothing 
degrading  or  painful  in  this  dependence  ; 
there  is  something  in  it  inexpressibly  sweet. 
It  endears  Christ  to  the  sinner,  and  the  sin- 
ner to  Christ.  It  makes  the  sinner  so 
cleave  to  his  Lord,  that  his  whole  life  be- 
comes a  life  of  faith  on  the  Son  of  God  ;  it 
makes  Christ  more  watchful  over  the  peni- 
tent sinner,  than  the  mother  over  the  babe 
that  depends  on  her  for  support. 

2.  Hence  we  may  infer  that  zee  may 
ahmys  have  the  grace  we  need.  Its  very 
continuance  on  the  earth  is  a  proof  that 
while  on  the  earth,  we  can  never  seek  it 
in  vain. 

There  is  a  strange  propensity  in  some 
young  Christians  to  lose  sight  of  this  truth. 
They  are 'exceedingly  anxious  aliout  their 
future  spiritual  supplies.     Grace   for  the 


THE  FLOWING  OF  THE  STREA:\IS  FROM  HOREB. 


113 


present  hour  is  all  they  can  obtain  :  they 
know  this  ;  and  yet  they  are  restless,  as 
though  they  would  take  at  once  supplies 
for  eternity.  This  anxiety  often  proceeds 
from  a  fear  lest  m-entually  their  sins  should 
Rxhaust  the  divine  patience,  and  shut  up 
the  fountain  of  mercy  against  them. 

Now,  brethren,  in  what  state  of  mind 
were  t!io  Israelites,  when  the  waters  first 
gushed  out  from  the  rock  ?  They  were 
muimuring  against  their  God.  And  what 
were  ih  y  afterwards?  Murmurers  still. 
"  Tliey  sinned  yet  more,"  the  psalmist 
says,  "  by  provoking  the  Most  High  in  the 
wilderness."  Yet  the  rock  was  not  closed ; 
their  sins  never  dried  up  its  streams. 

Turn  now  to  yourselves.  When  you 
first  drank  of  the  water  of  life,  you  were  in 
a  still  worse  condition  than  these  Israelites. 
Trup,  they  were  murmurers;  but  they  joy- 
fully accepted  at  once  the  relief  provided 
for  them  in  their  misery.  You,  on  the 
contrary,  added  yet  tliis  to  your  other  sins 
— you  long  made  scorn  of  the  very  blood 
that  was  shed  to  save  you.  And  what  have 
you  been  since  ?  What  are  you  now  ? 
Yet  even  now  grace  ajnd  mercy  are  brought 
home  to  your  very  hearts.  At  this  present 
moment  the  blessings  of  the  gospel  are  all 
spread  out  before  you.  At  tliis  present 
moment  the  invitation  is  sounding  in  your 
ears,  *•  Eat,  O  friends  ;  drink,  yea,  drink 
abundantly,  O  beloved."  Why  then  these 
harassing  apprehensions  for  the  future  ? 
Have  you  forgotten  the  past  ?  Have  you 
forgotten  that  the  Rock  of  your  salvation 
is  unchangeable  ?  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
is  the  same  now,  as  in  the  days  that  arc 
gone,  and  will  be  the  same  forever  ?  You 
may  be  s  nful,  but  he  will  not  cease  to  be 
gracious.  He  will  never  save  you  in  your 
sins,  but  he  will  always  save  you  when 
flying  to  him  for  deliverance  from  them. 
For  thus  saith  "the  Lord  that  created  the 
heavens,  God  himself  that  formed  the  earth, 
I  said  not  unto  the  seed  of  .Jacob,  Seek  ye 
me  in  vain."  "When  the  poor  and  needy 
seek  water  and  there  is  none,  and  their 
tongue  faileth  for  thirst,  (,  the  Lord,  will 
hear  them ;  I,  the  God  of  Israel,  will  not 
forsake  them."  And  if  these  declarations 
do  not  meet  your  fears,  he  speaks  to  you 
yet  again  ;  "  I  will  make  an  everlasting 
covenant  with  them  that  I  will  not  turn 
away  from  them  to  do  them  good  ;  but  I 
will  put  my  fear  in  their  hearts,  that  they 
shall  not  depart  from  me."  "  Whosoever 
15 


(Iriidvcth  of  tiie  water  that  I  shall  give  him, 
shall  never  thirst  ;  but  the  water  that  I 
shall  give  him,  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of 
water  s])ringing  up  into  everlasting  life." 
What  then  will  you  say  in  answer  to  these 
gracious  promises  I  "  I  shall  one  day  per- 
ish ?"  No.  "  Surely  goodness  and  mercy 
shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of  my  life,  and 
I  will  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  for- 
ever." 

3.  If  we  always  need  the  grace  o(*Christ, 
and  may  always  obtain  it,  it  follows  that  we 
ought  always  to  seek  it. 

Were  the  parched  Israelites  content  with 
drinking  once  or  at  stated  seasons  of  the 
spring  of  Iloreb  ?  No  :  they  came  to  it  as 
of\en  as  thirst  returned  ;  it  was  their  daily 
refreshment  on  the  burning  sands,  and  their 
hourly  comfort.  And  what  other  comfort 
or  refuge  have  we,  than  Christ  the  Lord  ? 
Where  else  can  we  go  foij  the  strength  we 
need  to  carry  us  to  heaven  ?  Nay,  how 
can  we  bear  the  trials  of  this  desolate  wil- 
derness without  him  ? 

Do  we  ask  how  often  we  should  be  found 
at  his  feet  ?  But  one  answer  can  be  given- 
to  the  strange  inquiry — as  often  as  we  have 
a  sin  to  be  pardoned,  a  defilement  to  be' 
cleansed,  a  fear  to  be  removed,  a  care  to 
be  lightened,  a  want  to  be  supplied  ;  as  of- 
ten  as  we  breathe.  Nothing  less  than  this 
the  apostle  commands  ;  "  As  ye  have  there- 
fore received  Christ  J^sus  the  Lord,  so  walk 
ye  in  him."  To  this  he  himself  in  some 
measure  had  attained  ;  "  The  life  which  1 
now  live  in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  the  faith  of 
the  Son  of  God."  And  nothing  short  of  this, 
if  we  are  Israelites  indeed,  is  our  end  and 
aim  :  we  are  never  satisfied  except  when 
drawing  near  to  Christ ;  we  never  deem 
ourselves  safe  except  when  hungering  and 
thirsting  after  him  ;  we  are  never  complete- 
ly wretched  except  when  seeking  happiness 
at  a  distance  from  him. 

Abide  then  in  Christ.  Beware  of  forsa- 
king  this  "  fountain  of  living  waters."  Be- 
ware  of  the  "  broken  cisterns,"  the  streams 
of  false  comfort,  of  which  the  world  is  so 
full.  They  are  worse  than  disappointing ; 
there  is  a  curse  in  them.  Jeshurun  tried 
them.  He  forsook  the  "  God  wliich  made 
him,  and  lightly  esteemed  the  Rock  of  his 
salvation."  And  then  the  anger  of  the  Lord 
was  moved.  He  said,  "  I  will  hide  my  face 
from  them  ;  I  will  see  what  their  end  shall 
be.  They  have  moved  me  to  jealousy  with 
that  whicii  is  not  God  ;  they  have  provoked 


114  THE  DUTIES  OF  CHRISTIANS  TOWARDS  THE  HEATHEN 


me  to  anger  with  their  vanities.  I  will  heap 
mischiefs  upon  them  ;  I  will  spend  mine 
arrows  upon  them.  They  shall  be  burnt 
with  hunger,  and  devoured  with  burning 
heat  and  with  bitter  destruction."  And  why 
all  this  awful  displeasure? 

4.  Because,  in  the  last  place,  Ihcre  is 
gidh,  as  well  as  folly,  in  despising  the  grace 
of  Christ. 

Picture  to  yourselves  a  traveller  parched 
with  thirst,  and  ready  to  faint  with  anguish 
on  a  burning  sand.  In  the  extremity  of  his 
distress,  a  stream  of  water  bursts  from  a 
rock  before  his  eyes,  and  follows  his  painful 
footsteps  mile  after  mile.  He  is  entreated 
to  drink  of  it  ;  but  no  ;  the  man  is  playing 
with  the  pebbles  at  his  feet,  or  digging  for 
water  in  the  thirsty  ground.  But  what  is 
his  folly,  when  com{)ared  with  that  of  the 
sinner  who  hears  of  the  salvation  of  Christ, 
and  yet  is  too  i^uch  taken  up  with  the  van- 
ities of  .sense  to  accept  it  ? 

We  must  not,  however,  talk  of  his  folly  ; 
it  is  his  guilt,  wliich  should  most  affect  us. 
Not  to  make  use  of  the  grace  which  flows 
from  a  smitten  Saviour,  is  to  despise  the 
•richest  love,  to  pour  contempt  on  the  dcep- 
■est  wisdom,  that  an  infinite  (lod  ever  mani- 
fested or  ever  could  manifest  to  the  sons  of 
■men.  It  is  a  guilt  which  forced  the  apo.stle 
'to  exclaim,  "  How  shall  we  escape,  if  we 
•neglect  so  great  salvation  ?"  We  cannot 
■escape ;  we  must  perish.  And  who  can 
tell  us  -what  it  is  to  perish  with  the  curse  of 
despised  mercy  on  our  heads  ?  None  but 
the  lost.  "  To  be  thirsty  in  a  desert,"  says 
a  recent  traveller,  "  without  water,  exposed 
to  a  burning  aun,  without  shelter,  and  no 
hopes  of  finding  either,  is  the  most  terrible 
situation  that  a  man  can  be  placed  in." 
No,  brethren,  there  is  a  situation  still  more 
terrible  than  this.  What  is  a  scorching 
desert  to  a  burning  hell  ?  The  merciful 
Jesus  Inmself  speaks  of  it  as  a  world,  the 
fire  of  which  never  can  be  quenched,  and 
where  not  a  drop  of  water  can  ever  cool 
•one  tnnnented  tongue. 

And  this  fearful  world  is  not,  like  an 
•eastern  desert,  removed  with  its  suffering 
far  away  from  us :  it  is  very  near  us ;  so 
near,  that  a  few  more  careless  steps  may 
plunge  \is  into  its  horrors.  And  how  will 
iliis  reflecti'in  aggravate  them  all,  ihat  they 
have  been  our  own  choice!  that  salvation 
was  provided  {(>r  u.-^,  but  we  scorned  it !  that 
overllowing  mercy  was  oll'ered,  but  we  de- 
spised it !  that  there  is  bread  enough  and  to 


spare  in  our  Father's  house,  while  we  are 
eating  the  bread  of  bitterness  with  the  devil 
and  his  angels ! 

Shall  we  continue  easy  with  such  a  pros- 
pect before  us  ?  Let  us  rather  say,  "  Wo 
unto  them  that  are  at  ease  !"  Let  us  ra- 
ther change  our  quiet  into  fear,  our  uncon- 
cern into  trembling.  Let  a  prayer  for  de- 
liverance come  from  every  heart,  and  this 
cry  from  all  our  lips,  "  Lord,  save ;  we 
perish." 


SERMON    XXII. 

THE  DUTIES  OF  CHRISTIANS  TOWARD 
THE  HEATHEN 

EzEKiEL  xxxvii.  4 

Again  he  said  unto  me,  Prophesy  upon  these  bones, 
and  say  unto  them,  O  ye  dry  bones,  hear  the 
word  of  the  Lord. 

The  scene  displayed  in  this  chapter  is  a 
very  extraordinary  one.  A  valley  full  of 
bones  is  presented  to  our  view  ;  and  while 
we  are  looking  on  them,  these  bones  are 
suddenly  clothed  with  flesh,  are  seen  mov- 
ing  and  starting  up  into  life. 

It  is  natural  for  us  to  ask,  what  could  be 
the  meaning  and  intent  of  a  vision  so  strange 
as  this  ?  and  in  the  eleventh  verse,  the  ques- 
tion is  answered.  It  was  designed  to  rep- 
resent tlic  state  of  the  Jewish  captives  in 
Babylon,  and  to  predict  their  deliverance 
from  it.  But  who  can  contemplate  this 
scene,  and  not  think  of  ruined  Israel  now  ? 
of  her  present  dispersion,  abasement,  and 
wretchedness  ? — and  not  of  Israel  only,  but 
of  the  whole  heathen  world  ?  Here,  breth- 
ren, is  a  just,  though  still  a  faint  picture  of 
every  land,  of  every  family,  and,  to  bring 
the  matter  nearer  home,  of  every  heart,  in 
which  the  gospel  is  not  known  and  its  power 
felt. 

Let  us  then  direct  our  attention  to  these 
three  points  : — the  state  of  man  without  the 
word  of  the  Lord  ;  the  conduct  required  of 
us  towards  him  in  this  state ;  the  promised 
success  of  this  conduct.  And  may  that 
Spirit  whose  hand  was  upon  his  prophet  of 
old — that  gracious  Spirit  who  has  come  up 
with  us  this  day  to  this  house  of  God,  and 
is  as  actually  present  within  these  Malls  as 
any  one  of  ourselves — O  may  he  manifest 
his  presence,  and  cause  us  to  know  that  he 


THE  DUTIES  OF  CHRISTIANS  TOWARDS  THE  HEATHEN. 


115 


j6  among  us  of  a  trutli,  impressing,  soften- 
ing, enlarging,  every  heart ! 

I.  Consider  the  state  of  man  tc/thoi/t  the 
word  of  the  Lord;  in  other  words,  without 
the  gospel,  without  that  knowledge  of  invisi- 
ble and  eternal  things,  which  the  Bible  gives. 
1.  This  is  represented  as  a  very  mourn- 
ful state  ;  a  state  so  sad,  so  lost,  that  weak- 
ness, pain,  sickness,  will  not  describe  it.  It 
is  a  state  of  death  ;  "  The  hand  of  the  Lord 
was  upon  me,  and  carried  me  out  in  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord,  and  set  me  down  in  the 
valley  which  was  full  of  bones." 

Now  the  sight  of  only  a  few  human  bones 
exposed  on  the  earth,  is  painful  to  us :  we 
wish  ihcm  covered  ;  but  we  have  here  a 
wide  valley  filled  with  the  remains  of  our 
fellow-men.  And  as  in  imagination  you 
look  around  on  these  dreary  heaps,  think  of 
the  sufftM-ings  that  must  have  been  endured, 
of  the  pains  and  tortures  which  these  frames 
must  have  undergone,  before  they  were 
thus  stretched  out  in  this  unconscious  quiet. 
In  the  ninth  verse,  they  are  spoken  of  as 
the  bodies  of  '•  the  slain."  It  was  the  hand 
of  violence  that  strewed  them. 

And  then  pass  from  this  dreary  scene  to 
one  still  more  desolate.  It  is  not  a  valley, 
it  is  a  world  of  death,  in  which  Ave  are 
standing ;  and  that  not  a  di^ath  which  kills 
the  body  only,  but  a  death  which  destroys 
and  ruins  the  precious  souL 

And  the  world  is  full  of  this  death.  To 
say  nothing  of  your  friends  or  nnighbors,  or 
any  one  of  yourselves ;  to  say  nothing  of 
the  multitudes  that  are  lyin-^  "  dead  in  tres- 
passes and  sins"  in  Christian  countries; 
there  are  no  fewer  than  six  hundred  millions 
of  your  immortal  brethren  utterly  without 
the  life-giving  word  of  God,  stran>^ers  to  all 
the  consolations  and  hopes  tliat  spring  from  a 
knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ. 

When  you  are  in  sorrow,  you  have  a 
remedy  at  hand — you  can  open  your  Bi- 
bles, and  read  there  of  a  land  where  sorrow 
never  comes,  where  the  iveary  heftd  and 
tlie  troubled  heart  ache  no  more.  You  can 
thitdv  of  the  love  and  power  of  an  ever- 
present  Helper,  when  wearied  and  burden- 
ed, and  find  rest  to  your  souls.  When 
conscience  smites,  you  can  fiy  to  the  Re- 
deemer whose  blood  "cleanseth  from  all 
sin,"  and  make  his  great  .salvation  your 
hope  and  joy.  But  what  can  \he  heatFicn 
do  ?  Cannot  they  feel  and  sufltr  ?  Can- 
not their  hearts  sink  as  low,  and  ache  as 
bitterly,  as  yours  ?     And  yet  the  gospel 


which  comforts  you,  speaks  no  peaoe  to 
them.  It  has  never  lightened  a  single  bur- 
den, never  dried  a  single  tear,  never  taken 
out  one  sting  from  a  guilty  conscience, 
never  cheered  one  dying  bed.  O  brethren, 
my  fi-iends  and  companions  in  a  path  of 
tribulation,  how  can  we  enjoy  the  quieting, 
the  sweet,  the  heavenly  consolations  of 
Christ,  and  not  wish  to  make  them  known 
through  a  suffering  world  ?  How  can  we 
at  times  be  so  happy  in  God,  and  yet  be 
content  to  leave  millions  of  our  fellow-pil- 
grims groaning  in  unpitien  wretchedness  ? 

But  the  heathen  are  not  only  dead  to  the 
consolations  and  hopes  of  the  gospel,  their 
ignorance  of  Christ  brings  upon  them  much 
positive  misery. 

Wc  sometimes  think  \  idolatry  as  though 
it  were  nothing  more  than  a  mere  bending 
of  the  knee  to  .some  image  of  wood  or  stone. 
Were  this  all,  it  would  be  a  degradation 
which  none  perhaps  can  fully  understand, 
save  those  who  have  witnessed  it ;  but  this 
is  not  all.  With  idolatry,  suffering  is  al- 
ways  connected  ;  it  is  occasioned,  nav,  in 
many  instances,  required  by  it.  What  said 
the  scripture  nearly  three  thousand  years 
ago  ?  "  The  dark  places  of  the  earth  are 
full  of  the  habitations  of  cruelty."  The 
testimony  is  as  true  now  as  it  was  then. 
The  fact  is,  idolatry  is  a  dishonor  done  to 
the  great  Lord  of  all,  and  he  vindicates  the 
insulted  honor  of  his  name,  by  making  it  a 
curse  wherever  it  is  known. 

Turn  to  India,  to  Africa,  to  whatever 
heathen  nation  we  may,  we  find  cruel  and 
bloody  rites,  causing  the  land,  to  groan. 
Parents  exposed  in  their  old  age  by  their 
own  children,  left  a  prey  for  the  beasts  of 
the  earth,  or  the  victims  of  famine — mothers 
sacrificing  the  infants  which  they  love  as 
well  as  English  mothers  love  their  babes, 
and  casting  them  into  rivers  as  offerings  to 
their  deities — women  going  voluntarily  into 
flames,  or  forced  into  them  by  relatives  and 
friend.s — man  here  torturing  himself  in  the 
.strangest  manner,  and  here  raising  the  shout 
of  applauding  triumph  at  the  self-destruc- 
tion of  his  fellow-man,  nay,  becoming  the 
destroyer  of  his  fellow  man,  not  from  re- 
venge, nor  for  what  the  world  calls  ^lory, 
l)ut  for  the  mon.strous  purpose  of  appeasing 
his  gods,  and  expiating  his  deeds  of  blood  ; 
all  these  proclaim  aloud  tliat  to  worship  ' 
idols  is  to  make  this  wretched  world  still 
more  wretched,  to  pour  fresh  bitterness  into 
the  cup  of  human  wo. 


116 


THE  DUTIES  OF  CHRISTIANS  TOWARDS  THE  HEATHEN. 


And  what  is  the  effect  of  this  sin  on  a 
world  to  come  ?  We  dare  not  answer  the 
awful  question.  At  the  very  best,  eternity 
stretches  itself  out  before  the  heathen  a 
dark  and  fearful  waste,  a  world  on  which 
the  thoughtful  idolater  must  tremble  to  set 
his  foot.     But  we  must  not  stop  here. 

2.  The  consideration  which  adds  so 
much  to  the  mournfulness  of  this  condition, 
is  its  utter  licJpkssncss.  This  is  plainly 
intimated  to  us  in  the  vision.  A  dislocated 
bone  may  be  set  again,  a  broken  bone  may 
have  its  parts  united,  but  these  bones  are 
"very  dry  ;"  are  in  such  a  state,  that  un- 
less a  power  greater  than  their  own  is 
brought  into  exercise  in  their  behalf,  here 
they  must  remain,  in  this  desolate  valley, 
till  they  moulder  into  dust. 

And  no  more  power,  brethren,  have  your 
fellow. sinners  to  convert  their  own  hearts, 
than  these  bones  possess  to  form  themselves 
into  living  and  happy  men.  We  sometimes 
hear  it  said,  '•  Let  the  heathen  alone  ;  they 
will  in  time  grow  wiser  ;  they  will  be  civil- 
ized, and  then,  when  barbarism  departs, 
idolatry,  with  all  its  horrors  and  abomina- 
tions, will  be  swept  away."  But  what  says 
matter  of  fact  1  It  laughs  such  reason- 
ers  to  scorn.  For  nearly  four  thousand 
years  "  darkness  has  covered  the  earth, 
and  gross  darkness  the  people ;"  and  yet 
in  all  this  long  period,  not  a  single  country 
can  be  mentioned,  which  has  emerged,  by 
its  own  energies,  from  idolatry  and  vice.  A 
few  nations  have  civilized  themselves,  have 
taken  gigantic  steps  in  knowledge  and  sci- 
ence, but  they  have  been  heathens  still  ; 
they  have  not  once  come  in  sight  of  the  chief 
good  of  man  ;  they  have  been  as  ignorant 
of  the  way  in  which  a  guilty  sinner  may 
draw  near  to  an  offended  God,  as  the  brute 
beasts  tiiat  have  no  understanding. 

Look  at  Egypt  ;  look  at  Greece  and 
Rome  in  the  height  of  their  intellectual 
greatness.  We  .see  them  as  far  from  God 
as  the  savage  African  is  now  ;  worshipping 
"  gods  many  and  lords  many,"  and  such 
lords  and  such  gods!  monsters  of  rapine, 
murder,  and  lust.  Look  too  at  modern 
India,  the  most  refined  of  all  the  Pagan  na- 
tions of  the  present  day.  What  find  we 
there  ?  A  superstition  as  dark,  as  bloody, 
as  abominable,  as  ever  fettered  the  mind 
of  tlie  wildest  barbarian. 

It  is  tiie  same  among  tlie  heathen  as 
among  ourselves — men  do  not  turn  of  ihcir 
own  accord  from  Satan  unto  God.     Leave 


sinners  alone,  and  they  must  perish  ;  nay 
when  not  left  alone ;  when  warned,  anc 
invited,  and  encouraged  ;  when  afllictiona 
check,  and  God  calls,  and  ministers  preach, 
and  friends  weep ;  all  is  too  often  in  vain. 
The  truth  is  this — we  may  moralize  our- 
selves and  others  ;  we  may,  in  some  in- 
stances,  convince  the  understanding  of  a 
sinner,  affect  his  feelings,  and  alarm  his 
conscience  ;  but  we  cannot  change  his 
leart.  We  have  no  power  over  the  affec- 
tions of  the  man,  except  it  be  the  power 
which  the  unclean  spirits  possess,  of  pol- 
luting and  debasing  them.  Call  into  this 
assembly  the  most  powerful  preacher  that 
ever  named  the  name  of  Christ  ;  place  in 
this  church  the  eloquent  Apollos  or  the 
fervent  Paul ;  nay,  bring  down  from  heaven 
the  loftiest  archangel  that  is  shining  tiiere 
in  his  greatness ;  he  is  no  more  able  to 
give  spiritual  life  to  one  of  our  souls,  than 
he  is  to  raise  the  dead  from  their  graves 
around  us.  Let  sin  once  touch,  once  enter, 
the  heart  of  a  creature,  and  none  but  an 
omnipotent  God  can  drive  it  thence.  It 
matters  not  where  that  heart  be  found — in 
Christian  England  or  in  heathen  India,  in 
the  temple  of  Juggernaut  or  in  this  church — 
he  only  who  made  it  at  first,  can  create  it 
anew.  Such  is  the  testimony  of  scripture  ; 
such  is  the  testimony  of  experience  :  and 
such,  if  we  are  really  living  unto  God,  is 
the  testimony  of  our  own  consciences. 
Each  of  us  is  constrained  to  say,  "  Lord,  it 
is  I.  Without  thee,  I  can  do  nothing.  Lord, 
help  me.  Cleanse  thou  the  thoughts  of  my 
heart  within  me,  and  take  not  thy  Holy 
Spirit  from  me." 

If  this  be  the  state  of  man,  it  becomes  a 
question  how,  under  such  circumstances, 
we  ought  to  act  towards  him.  Must  we 
leave  our  perishing  brethren  alone  in  their 
misery  and  helplessness?  Must  we  think 
of  them  for  awhile,  ask  with  a  tear  or  a 
sigh,  "Can  these  dry  bones  live?"  and 
then  turn  away  in  slothful  despair  ?  This 
vision  will  instruct  us  better. 

II.  It  calls  on  us  to  mark  ilic  conduct 
required  of  us  towards  the  heathen. 

1.  The  first  duty  we  owe  them  is  an 
attentive  consideration  of  their  state,  an  anxi- 
ety  to  make  ourselves  acquainted  with  their 
actual  condition. 

Turn  to  the  second  verse  of  this  chapter. 

Th(^  Lord  did  not  merely  set  Ezekiel  down 

"  in  the  midst  of  the  valley  Aviiich  was  full 

I  of  bones  ;"  he  caused  him  to  "pass  by  them 


i 


THE  DUTIES  OF  CHRISTIANS  TOWARDS  THE  HEATHEN. 


17 


round  about,"  to  examine  them,  to  notice 
how  "  very  many"  they  were,  and  how 
"  very  dry."  And  this  is  exactly  what 
the  same  Lord  is  now  demanding  at  your 
hands.  Fie  asked  it  not  of  your  fathers. 
They  heard  little  or  nothing  of  the  heathen  ; 
in  their  days,  they  perished  by  millions 
"  witliout  any  regarding  it ;"  but  he  has  not 
suffered  you  to  remain  in  the  same  unfeel- 
ing ignorance.  He  brings  the  means  of 
information  within  your  reach,  and  we  be- 
seech you  to  use  them — not  to  content 
yourselves  with  hearing  once  in  the  year 
a  sermon  or  an  address  on  the  miseries  of 
heathen  lands,  but  to  think  seriously  on  the 
subject,  10  examine  it,  to  take  a  lively  and 
habitual  interest  in  it,  to  treat  it  as  though 
it  were  a  matter  of  importance,  of  life  and 
death.  Were  a  neighbor  to  enter  your 
habitations,  and  to  tell  you  of  a  multitude 
that  he  had  discovered  starving  among 
your  mountains,  how  should  you  act?  You 
would  question  him  closely  as  to  their  con- 
dition and  number ;  you  would  think  of 
them  after  he  was  gone  ;  if  you  yourselves 
did  not  hasten  to  look  into  their  wants,  you 
would  speak  of  them  to  others;  you  would 
ask  day  by  day  what  aid  they  had  received, 
and  what  help  they  needed.  And  is  not 
the  bread  of  life  as  necessary  for  the  soul, 
as'  food  for  the  body  ?  Is  it  not  as  precious  ? 
Am  I  to  deem  six  hundred  millions  of  the 
starving  unworthy  of  a  thought,  because 
they  speak  not  my  language,  or  because 
oceans  separate  them  from  my  home  ? 

But  mere  examination  is  not  enough ; 
inquiry  will  not  raise  the  dead. 

2.  We  are  called  on  to  make  known  to 
the  heathen  the  7cord  of  life,  the  gospel. 

The  prophet  is  first  told  to  pass  round 
about  the  bones  in  this  gloomy  valley, 
to  fasten  his  attention  on  tlimi;  and  it 
might  have  been  supposed  tiiis  was  all  he 
could  do;  but  a  new  and  strange  idea 
is  brought  before  him,  and  as  strange  a 
duty  laid  upon  him.  The  Lord  said  unto 
him,  "  Can  these  bones  live  ?"  "  O  Lord 
God,"  said  the  wondering  man,  "thou 
knowest."  And  then  the  command  is  given 
him,  "  Prophesy  upon  these  bones,  and  say 
unto  them,  O  ye  dry  bones,  hear  the  word 
of  the  Lord." 

And  this  is  notliing  more  than  we  are  all 
called  on  to  do  in  this  world  of  death,  each 
of  us  according  to  tiie  ability  he  possesses, 
and  the  opportunities  afforded  him.  Not 
that  we    are   all    to    become    missionaries 


abroad  or  ministers  at  home  ;  one  duty  is 
not  to  set  aside  every  other,  one  work  is 
not  to  employ  every  servant ;  but  there  is 
not  a  man  with  a  Bible  in  his  chamber,  who 
is  not  bound  to  think  of  the  many  habita- 
tions which  that  book  has  never  gladdened  ; 
and  more  than  this — he  is  bound  to  give  to 
these  children  of  wretchedness  all  the  time, 
and  effort,  and  property,  he  can  hont  .^tiy 
spare,  in  order  to  send  them  relief  in  their 
misery. 

You  need  not  move  far  from  your  own 
homes,  brethren,  in  order  to  preach  the 
gospel  to  the  ignorant,  or  declare  its  glad 
tidings  to  the  suffering.  There  are  those 
within  your  own  parish,  perhaps  within 
your  own  house,  who  are  heathens  in 
heart,  though  Christians  in  name.  Speak 
to  them  of  the  things  that  concern  their 
peace  ;  of  the  things  which  the  cares  of 
the  world,  the  turmoil  of  life,  keep  so  far 
from  their  thoughts — of  their  souls  and  their 
sins,  of  a  glorious  heaven  and  a  dread- 
ful hell,  of  a  descending  Judge  and  a  wait- 
ing Saviour.  Is  there  no  brother  who  needs 
a  warning?  no  relative  who  is  perishing 
in  ignorance  ?  no  child  whose  soul  is  starv- 
ing ?  Is  there  no  afflicted  neighbor  to  whom 
you  can  say,  "  Cast  thy  burden  on  the 
Lord  ?"  Have  you  no  friend  to  whom  you 
have  never  yet  once  said,  "  O  taste  and 
see  that  the  Lord  is  gracious  ?" 

And  as  for  the  heathen,  there  are  men 
actually  gone  forth  among  them  ;  men  who 
have  left  their  friends  and  their  homes — 
all  as  dear  to  them  as  our  homes  and  our 
friends  are  to  us — and  are  gone  to  the  dark 
places  of  the  earth  to  enlighten  and  to  cheer 
them  ;  to  say,  not  to  a  company  of  Chris- 
tians assembled  in  a  quiet  church,  ready 
to  esteem  and  love  them,  but  to  savages,  to 
companies  even  of  cannibals,  "  Behold  your 
God."  Now  missionary  societies  are  es- 
tablished to  send  out  these  men,  to  direct 
their  exertions,  to  protect  them,  and,  if  need 
be,  to  supply  their  necessities.  They  ask 
fiir  our  ai(l  ;  and  by  giving  it  to  them,  you 
fulfil,  in  .some  poor  measure,  the  last 
command  of  your  Lord  ;  you  yourselves 
"  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature."  in 
the  only  way  perhaps  in  which  you  can 
preach  it. 

But  suppose  missionaries  to  be  multiplied 
a  thousand  fold,  suppose  them  to  be  .sent  to 
every  corner  of  the  globe,  can  missionaries 
turn  sinners  from  "  darkness  to  light,  from 
the  power  of  Satan  unto  God  ?"     Can  mis- 


118 


THE  DUTIES  OF  CHRISTIANS  TOWARDS  THE  HEATHEN. 


sionaries  raise  the  dead  ?  No.  Attention 
may  be  excited  to  their  words  ;  tliere  may 
be  a  noise  among  the  bones  ;  they  may 
assume  the  appearance  of  living  men  ;  but 
whose  work  is  alPtliis?  Even  this  is  the 
work  of  the  mighty  God.  Thus  saith  the 
Lord  God  unto  these  bones,  "  Behold,  I 
will  cause  breath  to  enter  into  you,  and  ye 
shall  live.  And  I  will  lay  sinews  upon 
you,  and  will  bring  up  flesh  upon  you,  and 
cover  you  with  skin,  and  put  breath  in  you, 
and  ye  shall  live."  The  promise  is  par- 
tially fulfilled.  The  bones  move,  they  ar- 
range themselves,  they  unite,  they  are  cov- 
ered with  flesh ;  but  still  there  is  "  no 
breath  in  them."  And  what  must  be  done  ? 
Ezekiel  has  prophesied,  and  the  Lord  has 
wrought,  but  before  the  work  can  be  com- 
pleted, Ezekiel  must  pray.  "  Then  said 
he  unto  me,  Prophesy  unto  the  wind,  pro- 
phesy, son  of  man,  and  say  to  the  wind, 
Thus  saith  the  Lord  God,  Come  from  the 
four  winds,  O  breath,  and  breathe  upon 
these  slain,  tha,t  they  may  live." 

3.  Hence  we  are  taught  a  third  duty 
which  the  heathen  claim  at  our  hands,  or 
rather  which  the  great  God  demands  of  us 
in  their  behalf — earnest  prayer  for  the  out- 
pouring of  the  Holy  Spirit  on  the  he-atlien 
world. 

In  this  lies  the  real  strength  of  every  ef- 
fort that  is  made  in  this  holy  cause,  here 
must  rest  all  our  hopes  for  perishing  mil- 
lions— in  fervent  prayer  ;  in  a  thorough 
conviction  that  while  we  are  doing  all  we 
can  to  save  the  lost,  we  shall  do  all  in  vain, 
unless  the  Lord  God  of  heaven  accompa- 
nies his  servants,,  and  gives  power  to  his 
word.  This  is  that  one  thing  without  which 
all  will  be  fruitless — a  looking  out  of  our- 
selves ;  a  looking  beyond  our  societies,  and 
missionaries,  and  exertions  ;  a  placing  of 
them  in  the  dust,  and  lifting  up  our  eyes  to 
tlie  living  God  on  his  throne. 

Perhaps  the  friends  of  the  heathen  are 
not  yet  sufficiently  brought  to  a  sense  of 
this  truth.  The  many  disappointments 
which  tliey  experience,  may  be  designed  to 
teach  it  tJiem.  The  Lord  deals  wi.th  them 
as  lie  deals  with  us  in  our  private  concerns 
— he  humbles  before  he  blesses.  Consult 
your  own  experience,  brethren.  When 
have  you  obtained  the  blessing  your  soul 
has  longed  for  ?  Never,  unless  in  judg- 
ment, till  you  have  been  driven  fi)r  it  from 
man  to  God.  Heart-sick  with  disappoint- 
ment, you  have  at  length  turned  fVoni  the 


creature  to  the  Creator,  from  the  broken 
cistern  to  the  overflowing  fountain,  and  then 
the  desire  of  your  hearts  has  come. 

The  Lord  will  vindicate  his  sovereignty, 
he  will  have  the  glory  of  his  own  work  ; 
and  his  jealousy  is  as  great  in  the  public 
affairs  of  his  church,  as  in  the  private  his- 
tory of  his  saints.  He  will  so  bring  to  pass 
his  purposes  of  grace,  he  will  so  give  life ' 
to  the  dead  and  comfort  to  the  wretched,, 
that,  as  he  himself  declares  in  the  sixth 
verse  of  this  chapter,  and  asserts  again  and 
again  in  the  end  of  this  vision,  his  people 
"  shall  know  that  he  is  the  Lord."  Hence 
our  best-concerted  plans  are  often  baffled, 
and  our  fairest  expectations  crossed.  Hence 
our  missionaries,  one  after  another,  are  laid 
aside,  in  the  midst  of  their  work,  and  others 
die.  O  could  the  sainted  Brainerd,  that 
gentle  but  heroic  preacher  in  the  wilder- 
ness, could  the  fervent  Martyn,  speak  to  us 
from  their  early  graves,  or  rather  from 
their  thrones  in  heaven,  what  would  they 
say  ?  Would  they  ask  us  for  our  silver 
and  gold  ?  Would  they  urge  us  at  once  to 
imitate  them  in  the  almost  consuming  ardor 
of  their  zeal  1  Would  not  their  language 
rather  be,  "  Cease  ye  from  man  ?  For  the 
heathen  we  lived  ;  for  the  heathen  too  we 
died.  God  showed  you  in  our  lives  how  ye 
ought  to  labor  ;  and  then  he  taught  you  in 
our  deaths,  that  his  glory  he  will  give  to 
none  other.  He  cut  off  our  days,  he  de- 
prived us  of  the  residue  of  our  years,  to 
teach  you  wisdom ;  to  turn  away  your 
hopes  from  all  the  instruments  his  conde- 
scension deigns  to  use,  to  himself  who  only 
worketh  all  in  all.     Cease  ye  from  man." 

You  see  then,  brethren,  how  the  poorest 
among  you  may  contribute  your  aid  in  this 
cause.  Silver  and  gold  you  may  have 
none ;  but  if  you  love  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  you  have  that  to  give  which  the 
heathen  need  more,  that  which  is  a  far 
more  rare  and  precious  gift — the  pleadings 
of  an  humble,  fervent  heart.  These  can, 
in  a  moment,  reach  the  heavens,  and,  in  a 
moment,  send  liome  the  word  of  truth  to 
some  lost  Indian's  or  Negro's  soul.  From 
your  cottage  the  prayer  may  be  lieaitl  one 
minute,  "  Lord,  send  out  thy  light  and  thy 
truth  ;"  the  next,  angels  may  rejoice  to  see 
it  answered.  The  Holy  Spirit  may  look 
with  delight  on  you,  and  then  breathe  into 
some  perisliing  idolater  the  breath  of  life. 

Hero  then  we  have,  in  a  few  words,  the 
conduct  required  of  us — inquiry,  exertion, 


THE  DUTIES  OF  CHRISTIANS  TOWARDS  THE  HEATHEN. 


pi'ayer.  We  must  think  of  the  heathen, 
send  them  the  gospel,  and  then  pray  for  its 
success. 

And  mark  with  what  a  mixture  of  mod- 
esty, submission,  and  iaith,  the  prophet 
adopts  tins  conduct.  lie  offers  no  objec- 
tions to  the  strange  commands  given  him, 
enters  into  no  reasonings,  asks  no  ques- 
tions; he  simply  executes  tlie  Lord's  will. 
This  is  indeed  the  only  way  to  have  the 
work  of  God  prosper  in  our  hands,  or  his 
grace  flourish  in  our  hearts.  Does  he  give 
us  any  plain  command  ?  Our  duty  is 
clear — we  are  to  obey  it ;  not  to  reason, 
but  to  act ;  and  while  acting,  not  to  despair 
or  even  fear,  not  to  be  calculating  proba- 
bilities or  measuring  difficulties,  but  to  pray 
and  hope,  leaving  the  sjjccess  of  our  efforts 
to  him,  whose  we  are  and  whom  we  serve  ; 
to  him  who  can,  in  the  twinklingof  an  eye, 
beat  down  the  loftiest  mountain  that  stops  our 
path,  or  hinder  and  confound  us  by  an  obsta- 
cle which  we  may  despise,  but  cannot  pass. 

There  is  nothing  more  difficult  than  this 
simple  obedience  and  simple  faith.  The 
union  of  them  is  the  perfection  of  the  Chris- 
tian character.  It  marks  the  old,  experi- 
enced warrior  of  the  cross  ;  it  is  the  badge 
of-'  the  good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ."  It 
is  that  which  God  only  can  give,  and  it  vis 
that  which  he  has  pledged  himself  to  bless. 
Let  your  labors  in  his  cause  begin  as  they 
may,  this  will  make  them  end  well.  How- 
ever they  may  be  thwarted  in  their  progress, 
this  simplicity  of  obedience  ensures  their 
success. 

III.  Consider  the  promised  success  of  the 
conduct  here  enjoined. 

This,  in  the  case  before  us,  was  unex- 
pected, progressive,  and  complete.  To  the 
eye  of  sense,  it  seemed  impo.ssible.  A 
mighty  effect  is  produced,  and  that  by 
means  which  appear  utterly  inadequate. 
A  feeble  man  .stands  in  the  midst  of  a  val- 
ley of  dry  bones  ;  he  speaks  to  them  ;  he 
calls  upon  the  four  winds  of  heaven  to 
breathe  life  into  them  ;  and  what  follows  ? 
He  is  no  longer  surrounded  with  the  memo- 
rials of  havoc  and  of  death  ;  all  have  dis- 
appeared ;  he  stands  among  "  an  exceed- 
ing great  army"  of  living  men. 

Here  we  get  an  answer  to  those  who 
tell  us  that  the  conversion  of  the  heathen 
world  is  beyond  our  strength,  that  we  only 
show  our  folly  and  pride  in  attempting  it. 
Judging  as  they  judge,  with  a  total  forget- 
fulness  of  the  power  and  promises  of  .God, 


we  must  admit  the  force  of  these  objections ; 
we  join  with  them  in  saying,  it  is  useless, 
it  is  enthusiastic,  it  is  the  very  height  ot 
fanaticism,  to  attempt  the  conversion  of  six 
hundred  millions  of  idolaters  by  the  preach- 
ing of  a  few  simple  men  ;  we  might  as  well 
employ  as  many  worms  to  level  the  hills 
of  the  earth.  But  we  dare  not  judge  as 
these  men  judge  ;  we  dare  not  forget  God. 
What  would  have  been  the  state  of  this 
very  land,  had  the  missionaries  who  preach- 
ed the  gospel  to  our  savage  forefathers, 
reasoned  thus  ?  We  might  at  tiiis  hour, 
on  this  spot,  have  been  offering  up  our  sons 
and  our  daughters  to  devils.  And  what 
would  have  been  the  state  of  the  whole 
world,  had  the  fishermen  of  Galilee  and 
the  tentmaker  of  Tarsus  reasoned  thus  ? 
No  man  will  reason  thus,  who  heartily  be- 
lieves the  Bible.  He  will  learn  in  that 
sacred  book,  what  a  shining  sun  and  the 
rolling  stars  might  long  ago  have  taught  us 
all,  that  nothing  is  "  too  hard  for  the  Lord." 
His  faith  will  lift  him  above  the  reasonings, 
and  fears,  and  objections,  of  a  selfish  world, 
and  his  own  selfish  heart.  Instead  of  look- 
ing at  difficulties,  he  will  look  at  the  up- 
lifted arm  of  Jehovah,  and  in  his  strength 
beat  them  down.  It  is  by  accomplishing 
great  ends  by  feeble  means,  that  the  Lord 
often  causes  himself  to  be  acknowledged  in 
a  world  which  disowns  him.  The  "  worm 
Jacob  threshes  the  mountains  and  beats 
them  small,  and  makes  the  hills  as  chaff," 
and  then  the  "  men  of  Israel  rejoice  in  the 
Lord,  and  glory  in  tlie  Holy  One." 

And  what  will  be  the  effect  of  the  won- 
derful restoration  predicted  in  this  vision  ? 
As  soon  as  "  the  exceeding  great  army" 
of  living  men  stood  before  the  prophet,  the 
Lord  said  unto  him,  "  Son  of  man,  these 
bones  are  the  whole  house  of  Israel.  Be- 
hold they  say.  Our  bones  are  dried,  and 
our  hope  is  lost ;  we  are  cut  off  for  our 
parts."  And  what  says  the  answer  of  God 
unto  them  ?  He  does  not  describe  their 
state  as  less  hopeless  than  their  fears  had 
represented  it ;  he  meets  them  on  their  own 
ground  ;  he  addresses  them  as  dead.  Thus 
saith  the  Lord  God,  "  Behold,  O  my  peo- 
ple, I  will  open  your  graves,  and  cause  you 
to  come  up  out  of  your  graves,  and  bring 
you  into  the  land  of  Israel.  And  ye  shall 
know  that  I  am  the  Lord  when  I  have 
opened  your  graves,  O  my  people,  and 
brought  you  up  out  of  your  graves,  and 
shall  put  my  Spirit  in  you,  and  ye  shall 


120 


THE  DUTIES  OF  CHRISTIANS  TOWARDS  THE  HEATHEN. 


live  ;  and  I  will  place  you  in  your  own 
land.  Then  shall  ye  know,"  he  says  again, 
"  thai  I  the  Lord  have  spoken  it,  and  per- 
formed it." 

The  conversion  of  the  heathen,  too,  is  as 
certain,  and  will  be  as  glorious.  We  have 
the  steadfast  promise  of  our  God,  nay,  prom- 
ise upon  promise,  to  ensure  it.  It  is  begun. 
The  word  of  the  Lord  has  been  heard  among 
the  bones  ;  and,  "  behold,  a  shaking,"  and 
more  than  a  shaking ;  there  is  breath  and 
life,  whei'e  once  all  was  death.  The  first 
part  of  the  exceeding  great  army  is  already 
risen  up  ;  the  shout  of  a  King  is  among 
them  ;  and  heaven  will  in  the  end  resound 
with  the  triumphs  of  the  host.  The  first- 
fruits  are  gathered  in,  and  angels  and  men 
will  eventually  rejoice  in  the  abundance  of 
the  ripened  harvest.  We  could  tell  you  of 
whole  islands  become  the  followers  of  the 
Redeemer,  that  a  few  years  ago  had  scarce- 
ly heard  of  his  blessed  name.  The  gospel 
which  is  preached  sabbath  after  sabbath  at 
the  foot  of  your  mountains,  is  heard  with 
gladness  on  many  a  foreign  shore.  At  this 
very  moment  perhaps  some  heathen  heart 
is  touched  by  the  Spirit  of  God  ;  some  once 
senseless  idolater  is  shedding  tears  of  love 
as  he  hears  of  a  dying  Jesus,  is  tasting  of 
his  grace,  and  is  satisfied. 

What  then  will  you  say  to  these  things  ? 
What  can  you  say,  but  that  the  Lord  is 
among  his  servants  of  a  truth  ?  that  he  has 
blessed  them  in  their  endeavors  to  make 
known  his  great  salvation,  and  they  shall 
be  blessed  ?  that  the  work  which  engages 
them,  shall  have  your  aid,  your  hearts,  and 
your  prayers  ? 

What  more  shall  I  say  to  you  ?  Shall  I 
urge  you  again  to  think  of  the  mournful 
and  helpless  state  of  your  fellow-sinners  in 
pagan  lands  ?  There  is  a  matter  of  far 
greater  importance  to  you  and  to  me,  than 
this  ;  of  more  tremendous  importance  to  us, 
than  all  the  souls  of  all  the  heathen.  We 
ourselves  have  souls  ;  souls  which  are  by 
nature  in  the  very  state  portrayed  in  this 
vision — a  state  as  bad  as  any  state  in  a 
world  of  mercy  can  be.  They  are  dead, 
"  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins."  'Cut  off  from 
the  Fountain  of  ha])piness,4heir  proper,  their 
best  life  is  gone  ;  their  purity,  tlicir  dignity. 
are  gone  ;  every  tiling  is  gone  wliicli  can 
render  their  immortality  a  l)!essing. 

What  will  it  avail  iih-  then  to  have  given 
my  time  and  my  moni'v  fiu-  the  conversion 
of  pagans,  if  my  own  imiinMlal  soul  remain 


unconverted,  neglected,  and  ruined  ?  What 
will  it  profit  me  to  have  felt  for  others,  if  I 
have  had  no  pity  on  m3'self  ?  Look  within 
your  own  bosoms,  brethren.  Ask  your- 
selves honestly  and  closely,  whether  this 
scripture  has  ever  been  fulfilled  in  your 
own  hearts.  Have  you  been  convinced  that 
the  sad  picture  here  exhibited  of  captive  Is- 
rael, is  only  a  description  of  the  natural 
state  of  your  own  soul  ?  that  all  there  is 
disease,  corruption,  death  ?  Have  you  felt 
your  need  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ  ?  Have 
you  sought  liis  grace  ?  Have  you  expe- 
rienced his  life-giving,  quickening,  convert- 
ing power  ? 

O  brethren,  let  me  beseech  you  to  begin 
at  home ;  to  adopt  the  same  conduct  tow- 
ards yourselves,  that  has  been  urged  on  you 
towards  the  heathen — to  inquire  into  youi 
state ;  to  apply  the  word  of  God  to  your 
own  hearts,  or  rather  to  look  upward  and 
entreat  the  Holy  Spirit  to  apply  it.  Oncp 
begin  to  care  about  your  own  souls,  and 
then  you  will  begin  in  good  earnest  to  feel 
for  the  souls  of  others.  It  is  personal  reli 
gion,  an  experience  of  its  power,  a  knowl 
edge  of  its  value,  a  taste  for  its  sweetness  : 
it  is  a  sense  of  redeeming  mercy,  a  sight 
of  Christ  as  the  great  Saviour  of  the  lost. 
"  the  love  of  God  shed  abroad  in  the  heart ;" 
— these  are  the  things  which  make  a  man 
really  hearty  in  the  cause  of  the  heathen. 

With  this  impression  on  my  mind,  I  can- 
not prevail  on  myself  to  use  any  entreatie* 
with  you  to  contribute  liberally  your  aid. 
If  you  value  the  word  of  salvation  your- 
selves, you  will  endeavor  to  send  it  to  oth- 
ei-s  ;  and  if  not,  there  is  something  so  sacred 
and  holy  in  this  cause,  that  the  money  which 
does  not  come  freely  and  cheerfully  seems 
almost  to  profane  it.  To  urge  a  company 
of  pilgrims  in  a  wilderness,  wounded  by  its 
thorns  and  burdened  by  its  laboi-s^^— men 
who  have  felt  the  ills  of  life,  and  found  a 
remedy  for  them  all  in  Christ ;  to  urge  them 
to  spare  a  mite  to  diffuse  the  knowledge  of 
this  remedy  to  thousands  of  the  broken- 
hearted, fainting  amid  desolation  and  de- 
spair— to  urge  a  company  of  sinners  who 
have  heard  of  a  dying  Saviour  and  been 
snatched  as  "  brands  from  the  burning"  l)y 
his  grace,  to  give  a  little  money  to  make 
known  the  glad  tidings  of  his  salvation  to 
six  hundred  millions  of  their  fellou-siniiers 
— 1  cannot  do  this,  brethren.  1  would  only 
remind  yon  of  One  wlio,  unsolicited  uihI  nn- 
tliouu-lit  of  came  here    from    a   fiir   dislani 


THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


121 


country  in  mercy  to  you.  Ami  what  did 
he  wive  for  you  ?  Silver  and  jjold  ?  O  no. 
"  Ye  were  not  redeemed"  with  such  "  cor- 
ruptible things"  as  these.  He  gave  his 
own  "  precious  blood."  And  not  this  only. 
Thoutrh  returned  to  his  home  and  covered 
with  his  fjlory,  he  thinks  of  you  now.  O 
think  of  him.  Hear  him  this  moment  say- 
ing to  you  from  the  lofty  heavens,  as  his 
compassionate  eye  looks  over  the  heathen 
world,  "  Love  them  as  I  have  loved  you." 


SERMON    XXIII. 

THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

HosEA  ii.  14,  15. 

Therefore,  behold,  I  will  allure  her,  and  bring  her 
into  the  wilderness,  and  speak  comfortably  unto 
her.  And  I  will  give  her  her  vineyards  from 
thence,  and  the  valley  of  Achor  for  a  door  of 
hope  ;  and  she  shall  sing  there  as  in  the  days  of 
her  youth,  and  as  in  the  day  when  she  came  up 
out  of  the  land  of  Egypt. 

Little  as  the  Israelites  were  permanent- 
Iy« benefited  by  their  sufTerings  in  the  desert, 
tiiey  appear  never  to  have  forgotten  them. 
Centuries  passed  awav,  but  they  still  asso- 
ciated ideas  of  wretcliedncss  with  the  scene 
of  their  fathers'  wanderings.  Hence  "the 
wilderness"  became  another  word  among 
them  for  trouble  and  sorrow.  It  bears  that 
meaning  here.  It  signifies  a  state  of  deso- 
lation, a  condition  resembling,  in  its  difficul- 
ties and  miseries,  the  situation  of  afflicted 
Israel  in  the  howling  desert.  Happy  are 
they  who  are  led  by  any  means  into  any 
state  that  discovers  to  them  the  meaning 
and  truth  of  this  gracious  promise  ! 

I.  It'points  out  to  us,  in  the  first  instance, 
the  Author  of  affliction. 

And  he  makes  no  attempt  to  conceal  or 
disguise  himself.  On  the  contrary,  he  ra- 
ther forces  himself  on  our  notice.  It  was 
the  Assyrian  army  that  laid  Israel  waste ; 
it  was  the  cruelty  of  her  enemies  that  des- 
olated her  country,  and  carried  her  into  a 
wretched  captivity  :  but  not  a  word  is  said 
in  this  chapter  of  man  or  his  violence  ;  the 
God  of  Israel  seems  determined  to  keep  all 
but  himself  out  of  our  sight.  "I,"  he  says, 
"will  take  away  my  corn  and  my  wine." 
"  I  will  destroy  her  vines  and  her  fig-trees." 
"I  will  cause  all  her  mirth  to  cease."  "I 
10 


will  visit  upon  her  the  days  of  Baalim." 
"  I  will  bring  her  into  the  wilderness." 

Now  why  this  anxiety  in  a  God  of  love 
to  stand  thus  forward  as  the  author  of  mis- 
ery, and  misery,  observe,  among  the  peo- 
ple he  loves  the  most  ?  For  two  reasons  ; 
first,  because  we  are  so  backward  in  afflic- 
tion to  discern  his  hand.  We  say  indeed 
when  it  comes,  "  It  is  the  work  of  God," 
but  we  do  not  half  believe  what  we  say ; 
we  have  no  deep  or  lively  impression  of  its 
truth.  There  is  often  lurking  within  us  a 
conviction  directly  opposed  to  it.  Else  why 
that  restless  anxiety  in  trouble  to  look  so 
closely  into  second  causes  ?  Why  are  our 
minds  continually  going  over  the  circum- 
stances that  have  led  to  our  calamities  ? 
Why  does  one  of  us  say,  "  Had  this  been 
let  alone,  my  buried  friend  might  have  been 
spared?"  And  another,  "  Had  that  been 
done,  my  poor  child  might  not  have  sunk  ?" 
And  a  third,  "  In  any  other  situation,  my 
Avithered  health  might  have  stood  firm  ?" 
There  may  be  some  truth  in  all  this,  but 
the  incessant  dwelling  of  our  minds  on  it 
shows  how  we  labor  to  push  God  out  of  our 
concerns,  how  unwilling  we  are  in  all  sit- 
uations to  acknowledge  or  even  perceive 
his  hand. 

But  he  has  another  reason  for  ascribing 
to  himself  our  trials ;  we  can  get  no  good 
out  of  affliction,  no  real  comfort  under  it, 
till  we  view  it  as  sent  to  us  from  him. 
The  man  of  the  world  regards  affliction  as 
"coming  forth  of  the  dust,"  and  trouble  as 
"springing  out  of  the  ground."  It  is  the 
necessary  result,  he  conceives,  of  our  pres- 
ent condition  and  circumstances.  And 
where  is  the  benefit  that  he  derives  from 
sorrow  ?  It  works  in  him  no  submission, 
it  brings  out  of  him  no  praise.  It  is  when 
the  mind  discovers  God  at  the  very  root  of 
its  sufferings ;  when  it  sees  him  desolating 
its  comforts  and  robbing  it  of  its  joys  with 
his  own  hand  ;  when  every  grave  seems 
dug  by  him,  and  every  loss  and  every  pang 
arc  felt  to  be  his  work  ;  when  it  cannot 
banish  him  from  its  thoughts,  nor  discon- 
nect from  him  one  of  its  griefs,  nor  even 
wish  to  do  either  ; — it  is  then  that  the  soul 
begins  to  bethink  itself,  and  '.he  heart  to 
soften,  and  man's  proud,  reoellious,  stub- 
born spirit  to  give  way.  Then  the  knee 
bends,  and  the  prayer  goes  up,  and  the 
blessing  comes  down.  Then,  for  the  first 
time,  we  are  quieted  and  subdued.  "  I  was 
dumb,"  said  David,  "  and  opened  not  my 


122 


THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


mouth,  because  thou  didst  it."  "  It  is  the 
Lord,"  said  Eli,  and  t!)en  that  poor  old  pa- 
rent could  add,  "  Let  him  do  what  scemeth 
him  good."  And  this  conviction  will  carry 
us  yet  further.  Only  let  a  man  once  see 
that  a  Father's  hand  has  mingled  his  cup 
of  bitterness,  and  he  will  soon  do  more  than 
say,  "Shall  I  not  drink  it?"  His  heart 
may  be  half  breaking,  but  there  is  some- 
thing within  that  heart,  which,  ere  he  is 
aware,  will  force  his  lips  to  praise.  "  The 
Lord  gave,"  said  Job,  "and  the  Lord  hath 
taken  away;"  and  then  comes  this  noble 
but  yet  natural  exclamation,  "  Blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord." 

IL  The  text  shows  us  next  why  God  af- 
Jlicts  us  ;  at  least,  it  discovers  to  us  one  of 
the  most  frequent  causes  of  our  sorrows. 

And  this  may  appear  to  some  of  us  too 
insignificant  to  produce  the  miseries  which 
are  ascribbd  to  it.  It  is  nothing  more  than 
forgetfulness  of  God,  and  that  not  in  his 
judgments,  but  in  his  mercies;  a  failing  to 
recognise  his  hand  in  them. 

Look  to  the  eighth  verse  of  this  chapter. 
"She  did  not  know,"  says  God,  "that  I 
gave  her  corn,  and  wine,  and  oil ;  and  mul- 
tiplied her  silver  and  gold."  She  knew 
it  indeed,  but  she  did  not  remember  it ;  she 
did  not  practically  acknowledge  it ;  she 
did  not  act,  she  did  not  feel,  as  though  God 
had  any  thing  to  do  with  her  blessings  ;  she 
accordingly  "  prepared  them  for  Baal;" 
she  devoted  them  to  her  lusts  and  her  idols.' 
"Therefore,"  he  adds,  "will  I  return,  and 
fake  away  my  corn  and  my  wine."  And 
again  in  the  thirteenth  verse,  "  She  went 
after  her  lovers,  and  forgat  me,  saith  the 
Lord  ;  therefore,  behold,  I  will  allure  lier, 
and  bring  her  into  the  wilderness." 

Not  one  word,  brethren,  need  I  say  to 
convince  some  of  you,  that  God  acts  thus 
still.  You  have  lost  some  of  your  earthly 
mercies,  perhaps  your  best ;  "^those  Avhich 
you  valued  more  than  Israel  ever  valued 
her  wine  and  her  oil,  or  you  ever  valued 
your  silver  and  gold  ;  and  lost  them  too,  it 
may  be,  in  some  unexpected  hour  or  man- 
ner. Your  neigh])ors  can  hardly  tell  why 
God  has  thus  ste])ped  out  of  the  ordinary 
path  of  his  providence  to  deprive  you  of 
them,  or  why  he  has  deprived  you  of  them 
ut  all.  They  speak  of  "  his  way  beinjj  in 
the  sen,  and  his  path  in  the  great  waters, 
and  his  footsteps,"  they  say,  "  arc  not 
known."  But  you  use  no  such  language. 
In  vour  view  of  them,  tliere  is  not  an  atom 


of  mystery  in  his  deahngs  with  you.  You 
know  why  he  has  stripped  you  bare,  as 
well  as  though  his  own  voice  had  sounded 
it  from  heaven  in  your  ears.  You  had  for- 
gotten him  in  his  gifts.  You  loved  them  so 
well,  and  prized  them  so  highly,  and  leaned 
on  them  so  confidently,  and  drew  out  of 
them  so  much  help,  so  much  comfort  and 
sweetness,  that  at  last  you  deemed  them 
all-sufficient,  you  allowed  them  to  lead 
away  your  heart  from  God  ;  you  not  only 
forgot  him  in  them,  but  you  forgot,  in  the 
enjoyment  of  them,  that  you  needed  any 
thing  beyond  them  ;  you  tried  to  live  "  with- 
out God  in  the  world."  God  saw  this,  and 
he  would  not  suffer  it.  In  jealousy  for  his 
own  honor,  in  love  for  your  souls,  he  with- 
drew the  gifts  you  had  abused.  He  made 
you  feel  once  again  that  you  need  him  ; 
that  no  one  can  possibly  need  him  more ; 
that  if  he  takes  from  you  all  thai  is  his, 
you  stand  as  starving  beggars  in  his  uni- 
verse, you  have  nothing  left,  save  that  which 
you  cannot  get  rid  of,  misery  and  sin. 

And  you  who  are  still  encompassed  with 
earthly  blessings,  learn  here  how  easily 
they  may  be  lost.  If  the  perversion  of 
them  forfeits  them,  if  not  to  discover  and 
own  God  in  them  endangers  them,  which 
of  you,  as  he  thinks  of  his  health,  his  rea- 
son, his  property,  and  the  use  he  has  made 
of  them,  has  not  reason  to  fear  ?  Which 
of  you,  as  he  looks  around  on  his  children 
and  friends,  has  not  reason  to  tremble  ? 
God  will  not  deprive  you  of  them  without 
a  cause.  No  ;  he  would  not  rob  needle.ss- 
ly  the  meanest  creature  that  breathes,  of 
the  meanest  joy.  But  he  must  and  he  will 
be  acknowledged  by  all  his  creatures  in  all 
his  mercies.  If  you  will  not  see  him  in  the 
enjoyment  of  them,  he  will  make  you  see 
him  in  their  loss.  He  will  lay  bare  his 
arm  and  snatch  them  away:  and,»niark, 
not  when  they  are  worn  out,  or  cease  to  be 
useful,  or  you  are  grown  weary  of  them; 
but  at  a  time  and  in  a  manner  that  will 
startle  you,  and  compel  you  to  trace  their 
removal  to  his  hand.  "  I  will  take  away 
my  corn,"  he  says,  "  in  the  time  thereof; 
and  my  wine  in  the  season  thereof."  "  My 
gifts  shall  be  withdrawn,  when  my  peoj)lc 
least  expect  to  lose  them,  when  they  are 
just  stretching  forth  their  hand  to  grasp 
them,  when  they  are  most  of  all  the  objects 
of  their  love,  and  expectation,  and  joy." 

III.  We  learn  further  in  the  text  //mfl 
God  sometimes  alllicts  us.     It  describes  liim 


THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


123 


as  doing  it  gradually,  compassionately,  ten- 
derly. "  I  will  allure  her,  and  bring  her 
into  the  wilderness;"  "not  drive  her  thi- 
ther, not  force  her  tliere  ;  but  I  will  go  be- 
fore her  and  lead  her  on,  and  make  her 
willing  to  enter  the  dreary  waste." 

This,  however,  is  not  always  God's  way 
of  acting.  Sometimes  his  judgments  ap- 
pear to  come  on  his  defenceless  people  with 
the  suddenness  of  lightning  and  the  violence 
of  tlie  hurricane.  But  wlio  arc  these  on 
whom  he  thus  rushes  like  an  armed  man  ? 
Generally  the  strongest,  if  not  the  holiest, 
of  his  saints  ;  men  of  powerful  minds  and 
unusually  proud  hearts,  and  yet  men  of 
great  experience  in  the  ways  of  godliness  ; 
tried,  weather-beaten  Christians  ;  men  who 
require  a  hard  blow,  and  know  how  to  get 
strength  to  bear  one  ;  men  who  have  learned 
much  of  God's  mercy,  and  want  now  to  be 
taught,  the  last  thing  that  man  ever  learns, 
God's  sovereignty.  Or  else  they  are  men 
of  great  sins,  or  intended  for  great  useful- 
ness, great  honor,  and  a  great  reward — a 
David,  or  a  Job,  or  a  Paul. 

But  take  the  young  and  inexperienced 
of  Christ's  flock,  he  carries  them  into  the 
wilderness  in  his  arms.  A  mother's  ten- 
derness could  not  equal  his.  There  is  no 
describing  it  as  it  manifests  itself  towards 
them  on  their  entrance  into  trouble.  He 
does  not  deceive  them  ;  he  tells  them  plain- 
ly that  they  are  going  and  must  go  into 
tribulation,  that  there  is  no  other  way  to  his 
kingdom ;  but  he  reasons  with  them,  he 
persuades  them.  He  shows  them  how  much 
they  need  affliction,  how  much  good  they 
will  derive  from  it,  how  near  it  will  bring 
them  to  him,  and  how  much  it  will  make 
them  like  him;  what  heavenly  consolations 
he  has  provided  for  them  under  it,  and  with 
what  unspeakable  joy  he  will  bring  them 
outofjt;  how  glorious  tlie  kingdom,  and  in- 
heritance, and  rest,  to  which  it  leads.  And 
then  when  the  blow  is  at  last  struck,  he  is 
so  mindful  of  their  weakness,  so  alive  to 
their  fears,  letting  the  weiglit  of  sorrow  fall 
on  them  so  gently,  and  putting  into  them  so 
mucli  strength  to  bear  it,  and  mingling  with 
it  so  nmch  undisguised  and  unexpected 
mercy,  that  tiie  men  are  in  tlie  very  thick 
of  the  wilderness  almost  before  they  dis- 
cover that  they  have  taken  in  it  a  single 
step.  Tliey  go  down  into  it,  if  not  as  cheer- 
fully as  though  it  were  a  paradise,  yet  so 
williiiirly,  that  there  is  not  a  paradise  to  be 
found  on  the  earth,  that  could  tempt  them 


to  turn  away  fiom  it.  Other  men  are  driven 
into  the  wiklerness,  nothing  can  reconcile 
them  to  it ;  the  Christian  is  allured  thither. 
Like  Moses,  he  "chooses"  aflliction.  Like 
David,  he  says,  "  It  is  good  for  me."  Like 
his  divine  Master,  he  would  not  rush  out 
of  it  even  if  he  could.  Nature  may  shrink 
for  a  moment,  it  may  almost  rebel,  nay,  it 
may  quite  rebel,  and  that  for  far  longer 
than  moments  or  hours,  but  nature  does  not 
triumph ;  the  man  prays  it  down.  He 
places  liimself  at  last  as  a  child  in  his  Fa- 
ther's hands,  and  so  that  he  is  there  and 
knows  that  he  is  there,  he  is  content. 
Among  all  the  people  of  God  in  this  suffer- 
ing world,  there  is  not  one  who  would  not 
prefer  the  dreariest  path  in  ihe  dreariest 
desert  with  Christ  by  his  side,  and  the  con- 
solations  of  Christ  in  his  heart,  to  the  bright- 
est and  most  joyous  of  all  earthly  scenes 
without  him. 

IV.  We  have  now  followed  the  Chris- 
tian into  the  wilderness.  Consider,  in  the 
next  place,  the  comfort  ihe  Lord  imparts  to 
him  there. 

He  says  of  Israel,  "I  will  speak  com- 
fortably unto  her."  But  this  is  not  the 
exact  rendering  of  the  words  ;  we  must  go 
for  that  to  the  margin  of  our  Bibles.  We 
read  there,  "  I  will  speak  to  her  heart." 
And  how  exquisitely  natural  as  well  as 
touching  is  this  language  !  None  but  a 
man  in  affliction,  or  a  God  who  knows 
what  is  in  man  in  affliction,  would  have 
thought  of  it.  Others  s[)eak  comfortably 
to  us  in  sorroAV,  but  if  that  sorrow  is  deep, 
what  power  have  their  words  ?  In  most 
cases,  they  have  none.  They  may  be  kind 
words  and  right  words,  they  may  deserve 
our  gratitude  and  have  it,  we  may  feel 
ashamed  of  ourselves  that  they  have  so 
little  of  it;  but  they  can  no  more  get  to 
our  hearts  when  God  has  really  wounded 
them,  than  they  can  restore  our  blessings 
or  raise  our  dead.  It  is  amazing  how  com- 
pletely barred  in  these  seasons  the  soul  of- 
ten feels  itself  against  all  that  can  be  said 
to  it.  Tiie  wisest  reasonings,  the  most 
earnest  and  touching  persuasions,  can  gain 
no  access.  They  are  no  more  to  us  than 
the  whistling  wind.  They  are  rather  a 
weariness  than  a  relief;  they  distract  the 
head  without  easing  tlie  heart.  Nay,  what 
have  our  Bibles  themselves  sometimes 
been  ?  As  powerless  as  our  neiglilwrs. 
"  What  a  comfort  must  this  blessed  book 
prove  now  to  that  poor  sufierer,"  says  a 


\24 


THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


Christian  friend,  as  his  own  quiet  soul  is 
drawing  consolation  out  of  it  ;  but  the  fact 
perhaps  is,  the  book  lies  beside  that  man 
for  hours  unopened,  and  when  it  is  taken 
up,  he  wonders  where  its  power  and  sweet- 
ness are  gone. 

And  how  long  does  all  this  last  ?  Just 
long  enough  to  show  us  that  there  is  no 
comforter  but  God  ;  just  long  enough  to 
make  us  feel  our  own  utter  helplessness, 
and  the  poverty  and  nothingness  of  every 
thing  around  us.  It  lasts  till  we  are  forced 
to  lift  up  a  wretched,  half-despairing  cry 
to  heaven  for  consolation ;  and  then  what 
follows  ?  O,  brethren,  that  every  one  of 
you  could  tell  !  The  power  to  tell  would 
be  cheaply  purchased  by  a  few  sighs  and 
tears ;  yes,  by  some  of  you  at  a  price  that 
you  would  tremble  to  pay.  God  now 
speaks.  He  spake  indeed  before  by  the 
friends  he  sent  to  us,  and  by  his  word,  but 
then  it  was  to  the  ear ;  at  the  best,  to  the 
understanding  ;  he  speaks  now  to  the  heart. 
And  could  the  wondering  mourner  show 
you  what  his  words  have  done  there,  you 
would  say  of  such  a  mourner,  and  say  it 
of  him  while  in  the  wilderne.ss,  in  the  very 
depth  of  his  tribulation,  "  O  that  my  soul 
were  in  his  soul's  stead!"  The  great 
Comforter  of  the  church  has  vindicated  his 
honor;  he  has  taught  the  soul  whence  its 
consolations  mu'st  come,  if  they  come  at 
all  ;  and  now  they  are  poured  into  it  with 
the  tenderness  of  a  Father,  and  the  omnip- 
otence of  a  God.  Now  every  thing  com- 
forts it,  for  God  speaks  by  every  thing.  A 
word  affects  it.  And  as  for  the  Bible,  no 
tongue  can  tell  the  eagerness  with  which 
its  promises  are  embraced,  or  the  solace 
they  impart.  So  powerful  is  it  become, 
that  perhaps  one  declaration  in  it  is  the 
stay  of  tiie  soul  for  days  or  weeks.  The 
man  says,  "  Were  that  one  text  the  whole 
of  my  Bible,  did- 1  find  nothing  more  in  it 
to  comfort  me  than  I  find  there,  it  would 
be  enough  ;  I  could  not  be  wretched." 

V.  But  consolation  is  not  all  that  an  im- 
mortal spirit  needs  in  sorrow.  Our  atten- 
tion is  called  th'^refore,  in  the  next  place, 
to  tJie  su])pJie.s  winch  God  furnishes  in  trih- 
ufalion.  lie  represents  himself  as  more 
than  a  Comforter  in  it;  he  is  a  Benefactor, 
and  a  ricli  one.  We  are  promised  vine- 
yards in  the  wilderness,  and  the.se  vine- 
yards our  own.  "  I  will  give  her  her  vine- 
yards from  thence." 

Now  \>y  this  language  we  are  to  under- 


stand, not  always  or  generally  a  restora. 
tion  of  the  blessings  we  have  lost,  but  such 
blessings  as  will  abundantly  supply  their 
place,  and,  at  the  same  time,  exactly  meet 
our  necessities  and  our  wishes  also,  in  that 
state  of  destitution  into  which  we  are 
brought.  And  they  are  blessings  too,  that 
in  some  sense  or  other  God  deems  our  own. 
He  considers  that  we  have  a  property  in 
them,  for  in  a  very  marked  manner  he 
calls  them  ours.  And  not  without  reason. 
They  are  blessings  that  were  set  aside  for 
us  in  the  ages  of  eternity  by  sovereign 
grace;  they  have  been  purchased  for  us 
by  the  blood  of  Christ ;  they  are  secured 
to  us  by  a  solemn  and  never  failing  cove- 
nant. We  have  no  natural  claim  to  them, 
no  power  in  ourselves  to  take  hold  of  or 
retain  for  a  moment  any  one  of  them  ;  but 
they  are  all  become  as  completely  and 
eternally  ours,  as  infinite  goodness,  as  in- 
finite faithfulness  and  power,  can  make 
them.  We  know  what  they  are  ;  nofc^those 
poor  mercies  that  -ve  faintly  ask  for  in  our 
hours  of  ease,  but  those  higher  mercies,  for 
which  the  soul  in  its  misery  most  aches, 
and  which  the  heart,  when  its  desires  are 
drawn  forth  in  affliction  by  heavenly  con- 
solations, most  thirsts  for  and  seeks  ; — sup- 
port, patience,  submission  ;  thankfulness 
for  the  past,  all  the  past ;  quietness  for  the 
future  ;  deeper  convictions  of  the  world's 
emptiness,  of  the  misery  of  sin,  of  the 
worth  of  the  soul,  of  the  Saviour's  precious- 
ness ;  the  giving  way  of  evil  desires  and 
habits,  and  the  rising  up  of  holy  affections  ; 
prostration,  and,  at  the  same  time,  freedom 
and  elevation  of  spirit ;  thoughts  ascend- 
ing to  heaven  and  almost  piercing  into  it ; 
a  close,  and  realizing,  and  wonderfully 
blessed  view  of  eternal  things ;  the  light 
of  God's  countenance ;  a  sense  of  his 
presence. 

And  how  strange  an  origin  is  ascribed 
to  these  blessings  !  And  how  strange  the 
scene  of  our  enjoyment  of  them  !  We 
have  naturally  no  conception  of  being  sat- 
isfied and  happy  in  bereavements  and  trou- 
bles. How  should  we  ?  We  know  noth- 
ing of  any  happiness  save  that  which  the 
objects  around  us  give  ;  and  whence,  when 
these  wither  away,  is  our  liappiness  to 
flow  ?  We  can  conceive  of  patience  in  af- 
fliction, of  support  and  even  of  some  de- 
grec  of  consolation  there  ;  but  as  for  the 
heart  being  filled,  as  for  its  strongest  de- 
sires beintr  all   "ratified  and  the  soul  con. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


125 


tent — we  can  give  credit  to  no  such  repre- 
sentations ;  we  say  at  once  that  we  might 
as  well  look  for  the  light  of  day  at  mid- 
night. This  text,  however,  speaks  of 
"vineyards"  in  a  wilderness;  not  of  corn 
and  oil,  observe,  the  necessaries  of  life  in 
an  eastern  land,  but  of  wine,  its  rcfresh- 
niont  and  gladness  ;  and  this  to  be  found, 
and  this  to  oe  enjoyed,  where  notliingof  the 
kind  could  be  looked  for,  wdiere  the  ordi- 
nary traveller  expects  only  desolation  ; 
amidst  the  barrenness  and  famine  of  a 
desert.  And  more  still — these  blessings 
are  not  only  to  be  ours  in  affliction,  they 
are  actually  to  be  the  fruits  of  affliction, 
to  grow  out  of  it,  to  be  produced  by  those 
very  things  which  cause  our  sorrow.  "  I 
will  give  her  her  vineyards  from  thence." 
"  The  wilderness,  which  is  the  source  of 
Israel's  sufferings,  shall  be  the  source  of 
her  consolations  also  and  joys.  They  are 
my  gifts,  and  that  she  may  see  them  to  be 
mine,  she  shall  gather  them,  not  in  her  own 
fertile  country,  but  on  the  arid  sand." 

And  representations  like  these  are  of 
frequent  occurrence  in  scripture.  Half  its 
promises  are  promises  of  blessings  in  sor- 
row and  blessings  from  sorrow.  It  speaks 
of  joy  in  tribulation  ;  of  consolations  abound- 
ing when  sufferings  abound ;  of  patience, 
experience,  and  every  Christian  grace,  all 
wrought  by  trouble,  all  made  to  flow  by 
the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  from  tribula- 
tion alone.  It  goes  further.  That  eternal 
blessedness  which  is  tiie  purchase  of  the 
Redeemer's  blood,  the  perfection  of  Jeho- 
vah's workmanship,  the  noblest  creation  of 
his  power,  and  the  richest  gift  of  his  good- 
ness— the  scripture  traces  even  this  to  suf- 
fering, and  to  slight  suffering  ;  it  describes 
it  as  sorrow's  easy,  rapid  work.  "Our 
light  affliction,"  says  the  troubled  Paul, 
"  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  vvorketh  for 
us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
of  glory."  We  must  not,  I  know,  over- 
rate affliction,  but  with  such  a  declaration 
as  this  before  us,  how  can  we  overrate  it  ? 
Powerless  as  it  may  be  in  itself,  how  can 
we  ascribe  more  to  it  when  in  the  Spirit's 
hands,  than  that  Holy  Spirit  has  ascribed 
to  it  here  ?  He  gives  it  the  praise  even  of 
the  happiness  of  heaven.  We  must  be  in 
heaven  perhaps  before  we  can  echo  with 
our  full  feeling  such  words  as  these,  but 
some  of  you  can  tell  us  that  the  brightest 
hours  on  earth  are  those  which  sorrow 
brightens.      Your   richest   supplies,   your 


sweetest  comforts,  have  been  sent  you  in 
your  deepest  troubles.  For  you  "the  wil- 
derness and  the  solitary  place  have  been 
glad,  and  the  desert  has  rejoiced  and  blos- 
somed as  the  rose."  You  have  iiad  your 
vineyards  in  the  desert  and  from  the  des- 
ert. Its  barren  ground  has  been  the 
ground  of  all  otiiers  where  you  have  been 
most  blessed.  In  looking  back  on  your 
earthly  pilgrimage,  in  going  over  the  years 
during  which  you  have  trod  its  wastes,  you 
are  constrained  to  say,  you  rejoice  to  say, 
"  I\Iy  most  afflicted  path  has  been  my  hap- 
piest. I  have  been  restless,  half  misera- 
ble, in  the  day  of  my  seeming  happiness, 
but  in  the  day  of  my  adversity  I  have  been 
tranquil,  I  have  been  satisfied,  I  have  sung 
for  joy." 

VI.  But  the  text  still  carries  us  on.  It 
bids  us  notice  the  hope  that  God  exates  in 
affliction.  "  I  will  give  her,"  he  says,  "  the 
valley  of  Achor  for  a  door  of  hope." 

Now  this  valley  was  situated  at  the  very 
entrance  of  the  promised  land.  It  bordered 
on  the  wilderness,  and  was  the  first  part  of 
Canaan  that  came  into  the  possession  of 
Israel.  Hence  it  must  have  seemed  to 
them,  after  their  wearisome  sojournings, 
as  the  birthplace  of  hope ;  their  hearts 
must  have  glowed  as  they  entered  it,  with 
the  prospect  of  soon  obtaining  for  their  own 
the  whole  land.  And  here  we  have  a  clew 
to  the  prophet's  meaning. 

"  My  p€0}::le  shall  not  remain  forever  in 
that  wilderness,"  says  God.  "  I  led  them 
there,  and  I  am  blessing  them  there,  and 
they  shall  be  blessed  ;  but  that  is  not  their 
home.  I  will  show  them  a  way  out  of  the 
wilderness,  and  that  not  a  way  which  will 
take  them  back  again  into  Egypt,  to  the 
scene  of  their  former  sins  and  wretched- 
ness ;  it  shall  bring  them  to  Achor ;  they 
shall  find  themselves  sooner  or  later  on  the 
borders  of  their  promised  inheritance." 

And  there  is  an  Achor  for  you,  Christian 
brethren.  Some  of  you  well  know  that 
there  is,  for  you  have  found  it.  You  re- 
member  the  time  when  heaven  seemed  as 
far  from  you,  as  the  divine  justice  or  your 
own  guilt  could  remove  it.  Your  hearts 
often  longed  to  see  that  it  would  eventually 
be  yours,  but  you  could  not.  You  reason- 
ed, you  "  took  counsel  with  your  soul,"  you 
tried  all  the  means  you  could  think  of  to 
work  in  yourselves  a  conviction  of  your 
eternal  safety,  but  all  failed  you.  The 
utmost  you  could  ever  attain,  was  a  hope 


126 


THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


Iluctuating  with  the  feeling  of  every  day, 
and  often  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  from 
positive  despair.  That  was  the  time  of 
your  worldly  ease  and  prosperity.  At  last 
came  trouble.  You  saw  the  wilderness 
before  you ;  you  found  yourselves  in  it. 
"  Now,"  you  said,  "  my  misery  is  sealed. 
My  strength  and  my  hope  is  perished  from 
the  Lord."  But  when  you  had  been  awhile 
in  the  desert ;  when  God  had  spoken  com- 
fortably to  you  there,  and  began  to  pour 
info  your  wounded  hearts  his  wine  and  his 
oil  ;  when  you  saw  that  you  did  not  sink  as 
you  expected  to  sink,  but  that,  on  the  con- 
trary, you  experienced  a  consolation  and 
blessedness  you  never  knew  before  ;  then, 
for  the  first  time,  you  rose  above  the  fears 
that  all  your  life  long  had  oppressed  you. 
You  rose  almost  above  your  supports  and 
comforts.  You  looked  beyond  them.  You 
said  with  Manoah,  "  If  the  Lord  had  been 
pleased  to  destroy  me,  he  would  not  have 
showed  me  such  things  as  these."  The 
sins  he  subdued  in  you,  the  graces  he  quick- 
ened, the  compassion  and  tenderness  he 
manifested,  the  discoveries  he  gave  you  of 
his  favor,  appeared  to  you  in  their  true 
character,  as  indications  of  his  special  love. 
As  you  ate  of  the  vineyards  of  the  wilder- 
ness, you  regarded  them  as  the  forerunners 
of  the  feast  of  heaven.  "Tribulation 
worketh  patience,"  says  Saint  Paul,  "  and 
patience  experience,  and  experience  hope  ;" 
and  you  have  at  last  learned  to  say  the 
same.  "  It  is  good,"  you  now  say,  "  that 
a  man  should  both  hope  and  quietly  wait 
for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord."  "Thou 
which  hast  showed  mo  great  and  sore 
troubles,  shalt  quicken  me  again,  and  shalt 
bring  mc  up  again  from  the  depths  of  the 
earth.  Thou  shalt  increase  my  greatness, 
and  comfort  me  on  every  side."  "  Thou 
shalt  guide  me  with  thy  counsel,  and  after- 
wards receive  me  to  glory." 

And  what  has  been  the  design  of  God  in 
all  he  has  done  for  you  ?  in  the  comforts 
ho  has  bestowed,  the  sup|)lies  he  has  given, 
and  the  hope  he  has  inspired  ?  The  text 
will  tell  you. 

VII.  Notice  in  it,  lastly,  the  effect  to  he 
produced  on  Israel  by  the  mercies  vouchsafed 
to  her.  "  She  shall  sing  there,"  says  God, 
"  as  in  the  days  of  her  youth,  and  as  in 
the  day  when  she  came  up  out  of  the  land 
of  Egypt."  "  A  song  of  joy,"  we  perhaps 
say.  Yes,  of  such  joy  as  ^e\v  ever  feel 
out  of  the  wilderness  of  trouble.     But  there  I 


is  .something  more  than  joy  in  this  song, 
and  something  higher. 

The  Lord  here  reminds  us  of  the  hour 
when  Israel  saw  herself  ^ree  and  safe  on 
the  borders  of  the  Red  Sea,.  Her  enemies 
were  ingulfed  in  its  waters,  and  she  her- 
self was  on  her  way  to  Canaan.  That  was 
ihe  day  of  her  youth.  He  then  refers  us 
to  that  exulting  hymn  with  which  she  made 
the  shores  of  tliat  sea  re-echo  on  the  dis- 
covery of  her  deliverance.  I  need  not  say 
that  it  is  a  hymn  of  wonderful  beauty  and 
fervor.  But  the  most  striking  peculiarity 
of  it,  I  conceive,  is  the  high  strain  of  adora- 
tion which  it  breathes.  The  people  seem 
overwhelmed  with  the  display  that  has 
been  made  to  them  of  the  divine  perfections, 
and  under  the  influence  of  the  admiration 
which*  these  perfections  had  excited,  their 
joy  is  almost  lost  in  feelings  of  adoration 
and  praise.  True  they  do  say,  "  The  Lord 
hath  saVed  us;"  it  is  true  that  they  speak 
of  him  as  their  song  because  he  had  been 
their  salvation  ;  but  the  chief  burden  of 
their  strain  is  "  the  high  praise  of  their 
God."  "Sing  ye  to  the  Lord,"  they  cry 
and  cry  again,  "  for  he  hath  triumphed 
gloriously."  "  Thy  right  hand,  O  Lord, 
is  become  glorious  in  power."  "Who  is 
like  unto  thee,  O  Lord,  among  the  gods  ? 
Who  is  like  thee  1  glorious  in  holiness, 
fearful  in  praises,  doing  wonders." 

Now  if  you  have  experienced  great  con- 
solations, great  mercies,  in  affliction,  be 
assured  of  this,  that  they  have  elevated 
unspeakably  your  thoughts  of  God  ;  that 
they  have  been  accompanied  with  such  a 
view  of  his  glory,  as  delights,  and  warms, 
and  almost  fires,  your  soul.  You  cannot 
be  'silent  concerning  it.  You  have  seen 
your  "  King  in  his  beauty,"  and  you  must 
speak  of  your  King  and  his  beauty.  He 
has  opened  your  lips,  and  you  must  "  show 
forth  his  praise."  "  He  has  put  a  new 
song  in  your  mouth,"  and  you  must  send 
it  forth,  "  even  a  thanksgiving  unto  your 
God." 

You  remember  the  feelings  of  your 
hearts,  brethren,  on  your  first  conversion  to 
God  ;  how  strong  they  were ;  what  influ- 
ence they  had  on  your  feelings,  your  words, 
and  conduct.  You  remember  too  how 
mournfully  they  half  sul)sided  away.  When 
God  brings  you  into  trials,  and  helps  and 
comforts  you  under  them,  he  does  it  to  re- 
vive those  feelings  of  your  better  days,  to 
make  you  in  zeal  and  love  what  you  were 


THE  MULTITUDE  FED  IN  THE  WH.DEllXESS. 


127 


years  ago,  and  perhaps  have  never  been 
since.  "  I  remember  thee,"  he  says,  "the 
kindness  of  thy  youth,  the  love  of  thine 
espousals."  He  wants  that  love  again, 
and  he  wants  it  for  this  purpose,  that  you 
may  answer  the  great  end  of  all  he  has 
done  for  you,  that  you  may  "show  forth  his 
praise."  If  then  this  end  has  been  in  no 
degree  attained,  if  you  have  talked  of  tlie 
spiritual  supports  and  enjoyments  you  have 
known  in  adversity,  and  yet  are  come  out 
of  it  as  worldly-minded,  as  cold-hearted, 
as  trifling,  as  little  impressed  with  the 
divine  goodness  and  glory,  as  when  you 
entered  it,  tremble  for  yourselves,  tremble 
for  every  one  like  yourselves.  There  is  a 
matter  far  more  important  to  you  and  to 
me,  brethren,  than  earthly  trials,  or  any 
consolations  we  can  experience  under  them. 
We  are  approaching  an  eternal  world  ;  we 
are  on  our  way  to  the  judgment-seat  of  the 
living  God.  God  will  not  ask  us  there, 
what  afflictions  we  have  endured,  or  what 
comforts  we  have  enjoyed  under  them. 
No  ;  the  question  there  will  be,  what  have 
we  been  in  our  joys  and  our  sorrows  ?  his 
friends  or  his  enemies  ?  While  we  have 
been  experiencing  his  supporting  mercy, 
what  have  we  experienced  of  the  cleansing 
of  a  Saviour's  blood  and  a  Saviour's  Spirit  ? 
W^hat  have  we  known  as  great  sinners  of 
the  great  Deliverer?  Compared  with  in- 
quiries like  these,  the  things  you  have  heard 
to-day  are  trifles.  O  forget  them  all,  rather 
than  forget  this  one  awful  fact — we  are 
dying  sinners,  drawing  nearer  and  nearer 
every  moment  to  an  eternal  heaven  or  an 
eternal  hell. 


SERMON    XXIV. 

THE  MULTITUDE  FED  IN  THE  WILDER- 
NESS, 

St.  Mark  vi.  42. 

And  they  did  all  eat  and  were  filled. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that  of  the  many 
miracles  wrought  by  our  Lord,  this  is  the 
only  one  recorded  by  all  the  evangelists. 
The  inference  we  are  to  draw  is  plain — it 
is  a  miracle  of  peculiar  importance.  It 
was  deemed  such  evidently  by  those  who 


j  witnessed  it ;  it  is  stamped  as  such  by  that 
I  Holy  Spirit  wjio  has  thus  written  it  again 
!  and  again  in  the  book  he  has  inspired. 

And  there  is  no  difficulty  in  perceiving 
!  wlierein  its  importance  lies.  We  .shall 
undoubtedly  find  it  in  the  development  it 
j  affords  us  of  the  Saviour's  character  ;  in 
the  discovery  it  makes  of  his  goodness  and 
j  greatness ;  in  the  force  with  which  it  tells 
a  needy  world,  that  he  is  able  and  willing 
to  supply  all  its  wants,  and  to  supply  them 
i  to  the  greatest  possible  degree,  under  all 
'  circumstances,  at  all  times.  We  must 
view  it  then  in  this  light ;  that  is,  we  must 
look  on  it  as  a  striking  though  partial  ex- 
hibition of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  his  excel- 
lences and  his  ways.  And  may  he  him- 
self open  our  minds  to  receive  the  know- 
ledge of  him  it  is  calculated  to  impart! 

Our  attention  must  necessarily  be  con- 
fined to  a  part  only  of  the  history.  Let  us 
select  these  four  points  :  the  miracleitself ; 
the  feelings  with  which  our  Lord  seems  to 
have  wrought  it ;  the  time  when  it  was  per- 
formed ;  and  the  place  where  it  occurred. 

I.  The  miracle  was  the  feeding  of  a  large 
multitude  of  men  with  food  sufiicient  for  a 
small  numl)er  only,  and  leaving  among 
them,  after  every  one  was  satisfied,  a  larger 
quantity  of  provision  than  was  found  in  the 
place  at  first. 

1.  Now  the. first  thing  that  .strikes  us 
here,  is  power,  power  over  the  material 
world. 

And  this,  to  material  beings  like  ourselves, 
is  a  concern  of  no  small  moment.  We  are 
surrounded  with  material  things.  We  live 
among  them  and  upon  them.  Our  comfort, 
our  safety,  nay,  our  very  existence,  are 
made  dependent  on  them.  With  the  body 
they  can  do  what  they  will  ;  and  through 
the  body  they  can  get  at  the  soul,  and  af- 
fect it  deeply ;  send  it  out  of  the  body, 
naked  and  lonely,  to  its  everlasting  home'. 

In  such  a  situation,  the  mind,  when  the 
nn'nd  thinks  on  the  subject,  naturally  asks, 
Have  the  things  around  us  any  master  or 
ruler  ?  and  if  so,  who  is  he  ?  ''  The  Lord 
Christ,"  answers  the  gospel.  It  exhibits 
him  to  us  as  the  Monarch  of  the  world  he 
has  formed ;  with  all  its  parts  under  his 
control,  and  every  element  in  it  at  his  com- 
mand. On  this  occasion,  food,  in  simply 
pa.ssing  from  hand  to  hanrl,  is  multij)lied  at 
his  bidding,  so  that  five  thousand  eat  and 
arc  filled  from  a  meal  sufficient  in  appear- 
ance for  five  only.     And  this  is  no  solitary 


128 


THE  MULTITUDE  FED  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


instance  of  l.he  obedience  of  matter  to  hiin. 
He  treads  on  the  sea,  and  it  sustains  his 
weight ;  he  speaks  to  tlie  winds,  and  in  a 
moment  the  hurricane  sinks  down  into  a 
cahn. 

It  follows  then,  brethren,  that  when  we 
make  light  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  we  are 
making  light  of  one  who  can  never  be  at  a 
loss  for  an  instrument  to  punish  or  destroy 
us  ;  one  who  can  arm  all  nature  against 
us  ;  send  the  lightnings  of  heaven  to  blast, 
or  give  a  feeble  moth  power  to  crush  us. 

It  follows  also,  that  the  stores  of  nature 
are  to  us  just  what  he  is  pleased  to  make 
them  ;  that  food,  and  air,  and  medicine,  do 
his  work  and  nothing  more. 

And  does  not  this  blessed  truth  also  fol- 
low, that  in  the  material,  as  well  as  in  the 
spiritual  world,  his  people  are  safe  ?  They 
may  suffer  perils  to  alarm  and  difficulties 
to  oppress  them,  but  they  need  fear  no  evil. 
He  who  is  watching  over  them,  has  bound- 
less resources  at  his  command,  ten  thousand 
unthought  of  ways  of  removing  danger  and 
supplying  want.  "  The  silver  and  the 
gold  are  his,"  and  so  "  are  the  cattle  on  a 
thousand  hills."  Yea,  "the  earth  is  the 
Lord's,  and  the  fulness  thereof."  He, has 
proved  himself  its  Master.  At  his  nod  the 
sea  has  divided  to  give  deliverance  to  his 
people  ;  a  flinty  rock  has  poured  out  water 
to  minister  to  their  comfort ;  and  when  they 
have  wanted  food,  he  has  rained  it  down 
upon  them  from  the  clouds.  There  may 
be  in  our  houses  only  a  barrel  of  meal  and 
a  cruse  of  oil;  but  what  then  ?  "  We  shall 
not  want."  He  who  has  given  us  but  that 
little,  will  make  that  little  enough,  and 
make  us  wonder  that  it  is  enough,  "filling 
our  hearts  with  food  and  gladness." 

2.  Notice  also  in  this  miracle  the  little 
value  which  Christ  puts  on  sensual  gratijica- 
tioTis,  on  luxuries  and  what  we  call  com- 
forts. 

We  have  seen  his  power;  it  was  evi- 
dently boundless.  A  word  from  his  lips 
could  have  spread  before  this  multitude  all 
the  delicacies  of  the  east.  But  in  calling 
his  omnipotence  into  exercise  for  them,  the 
only  food  he  provides  is  the  mean  fare  of 
the  humblest  fisherman.  Their  souls  he 
had  just  before  been  feeding  with  the  bread 
of  life ;  nothing  he  deems  too  good  for 
them ;  he  was  willing  to  give  the  food  of 
angels  for  their  support,  nay,  himself;  but 
when  their  bodies  are  to  be  fed,  any  suste- 
nance that  is  at  hand  contents  him.     A  lew 


barley  loaves  will  answer  that  mean  pur- 
pose, as  well  as  the  most  sumptuous  fare. 
He  will  have  no  waste  ;  he  says  even  of 
these  plain  provisions,  "  Gather  up  the  frag- 
ments ;"  he  sets  some  value  on  every  thing 
he  gives  or  creates  ;  but  as  to  the  value  ho 
sets  on  that  which  pampers  the  appetite,  it 
is  so  trifling  that  we  cannot  discover  it. 

On  another  occasion  we  see  him  acting 
in  precisely  the  same  manner.  He  pro- 
vides food  for  Elijah,  the  greatest  and  besv 
man  of  his  age  ;  and  sends  a  messenger 
from  heaven  to  carry  it  to  him  ;  and  what 
is  it  ?  It  comes  to  a  prophet  from  an 
angel's  hand  ;  and  yet  it  is  only  a  cake  of 
bread  and  a  cruse  of  water. 

How  instructive  is  all  this  to  the  poor 
and  straitened  !  How  forcibly  does  it  say 
to  you,  "  Be  content  with  such  things  as  ye 
have  !"  You  may  fare  hard,  but  there  is 
not  one  of  you  who  does  not  fare  as  well  as 
the  Lord  of  nature  fared  in  the  days  of  his 
flesh  ;  and  yet  he  ate  his  mean  food  with 
thankfulness,  and  would  never  put  forth  his 
power  to  make  it  better. 

And  how  strongly  does  this  simple  meal 
condemn  others  of  us  !  It  says  nothing, 
brethren,  against  taking  and  enjoying  what 
God  has  given;  his  gifts  are  sent  us  tobe 
enjoyed  ;  but  the  caring  about  the  things 
of  the  body,  the  eager  indulgence  in  them, 
the  thought  and  time  they  occupy,  that  rest- 
lessness and  discontent  which  we  experi- 
ence  when,  owing  to  any  accident,  we  can- 
not get  them ;  what  is  all  this?  It  is  folly. 
It  is  worse  ;  it  is  sin.  It  is  more  than  sin  ; 
it  is  an  indication  of  a  bad  state  of  heart ;  a 
proof  that  there  is  little,  if  any  thing  spiritual 
within  us  ;  that  the  mind  is  still  in  its  native 
earthliness ;  that  it  knows  nothing  whatever 
of  a  new  and  heaven-born  life.  Put  the 
grace  of  God  into  the  heart,  implant  there 
the  love  of  Christ,  let  the  soul  once  taste  the 
sweets  of  his  presence,  let  it  but  catch  for 
one  moment  the  joy  that  he  can  bestow  ; 
and  we  shall  care  but  little  about  what  we 
cat,  or  what  we  drink,  or  what  we  put  on. 
Christ  in  the  heart  will  drive  all  such  care 
out  of  the  heart ;  will  assuredly  bring  con- 
tent into  the  heart.  And  there  is  no  way 
of  getting  content  into  it  without  Christ. 
Purple  and  fine  lintni  will  not  do  it;  no, 
nor  faring  sumptuously  every  day.  Dis- 
content can  reign  over  a  mansion  or  a  pal- 
ace as  tormentingly  as  in  a  cottage  ;  nay, 
it  sits  down  at  a  well-spread  table  far  oftonor 
than  at  a  frugal  board.     It  feels  most  at 


THE  MULTITUDE  FED  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


129 


homo  amidst  luxury  and  pomp.  Our  old 
writers  often  say,  and  say  it  with  as  much 
truth  as  point,  "  Nature  is  content  with 
little,  grace  with  less,  sin  with  nothing." 

II.  Let  us  pass  on  now  to  the  feelings 
iL'dh  iclticli  this  miracle  was  wrought. 

1.  One  of  these  was  evidently  a  con- 
sciousness of  poioer. 

Not  that  it  was  wj-ouglit  ostentatiously, 
for  the  purpose  of  exciting  astonishment  or 
applause  ;  it  was  a  work  of  pure  compas- 
sion, with  no  vain  show  whatever  in  it ; 
nay,  with  a  concealment  of  power,  rather 
than  a  display  of  it.  Rut  who  can  read 
this  history  and  not  see  that  the  Being  who 
wrought  this  wonder,  knew  himself  able  to 
work  any  wonder?  that  he  felt  his  omnipo- 
tence ?     Look  at  the  scene. 

"  Send  the  multitude  away  that  they 
may  get  food,"  said  the  disciples.  "  They 
need  not  depart,"  said  tiie  lofty  Saviour. 
Their  words  sounded  to  him  like  an  im- 
peachment of  his  all-sufficiency,  and  con- 
scious greatness  prompts  his  answer.  "  A 
starving  multitude  sent  away  from  me  for 
bread  !  Why,  all  the  bread  on  earth  or  in 
heaven  is  mine.  Were  famished  worlds  be- 
before  me,  they  need  not  depart.  Make  the 
men  sit  down."  And  this,  observe,  was  said 
before  the  food  was  multiplied  ;  said  by  one 
in  a  human  form,  with  only  five  loaves  and 
two  small  fishes  before  him,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  more  than  five  thousand  men  ;  and 
said  with  a  composure  and  confidence,  that 
indicated  a  certainty  in  his  own  mind  as  to 
his  ability  to  provide  the  food  desired.  Or 
rather  perhaps  we  ought  to  say,  the  Sa- 
viour's whole  demeanor  in  this  transaction 
indicates  an  absence  of  all  thought  about 
his  own  power.  It  manifests  such  a  habit 
of  doing  wonders,  of  bringing  to  pass  what- 
ever his  wisdom  and  his  compassion  dictate, 
that  he  does  not  give  his  own  ability  a  place 
in  his  mind.  He  thinks  no  more  of  it,  than 
we  think  of  our- power  to  open  our  lips 
when  we  speak,  or  to  step  when  we  walk. 
And  thus  comes  out  the  hidden  Godhead. 
It  is  seen  in  the  miracles  he  performed,  the 
wonders  he  accomplished,  and  seen  in  them 
clearly  and  gloriously  ;  but  it  is  more  visi- 
ble still  perhaps  in  tlio  manner  in  which 
he  wrought  these  wonders,  in  tiie  quietness, 
the  ease,  the  dignity,  the  conscious  great- 
ness, with  which  they  were  accompanied. 

2.  We  have  thus  looked  at  the  author  of 
this  miracle  as  God  ;  but  he  is  as  really 
man  as  he  is  God,  and  he  feels  and  acts 

17 


here  like  a  dependent  man  ;  for  mark  fur- 
ther  the  spirit  of  devotion  he  manifests. 

"  When  he  had  taken  the  five  loaves 
and  the  two  fishes,"  the  evangelist  says, 
'•  he  looked  up  to  heaven  and  blessed." 
And  he  did  this  not  merely  to  teach  the 
multitude  around  him  to  acknowledge  God 
in  the  bounties  of  his  providence  and  to 
praise  him  for  them,  but  from  a  real  feel- 
ing of  dependence  at  work  in  his  own  n)ind, 
from  the  overflowings  of  gratitude  towards 
his  Father  in  his  own  breast. 

It  seems  too  that  tliis  was  only  in  con- 
formity  with  his  usual  practice.  Look  at 
that  blessed  meal  he  ate  at  Emmaus  after 
his  resurrection.  There  was  nothing  pecu- 
liar in  that.  It  was  not  a  miraculous  meal 
like  this  wonderful  provision  before  us; 
nor  was  it  a  sacramental  feast  like  his  last 
supper  at  Jerusalem  ;  it  was  an  ordinary 
repast  taken  in  an  ordinary  manner.  And 
yet  we  read  that  "  as  he  sat  at  meat  with 
his  two  disciples,  he  took  bread  and  blessed 
it ;"  and  the  action  discovered  him  ;  "  their 
eyes  were  opened"  by  it,  "  and  they  knew 
him  ;" — a  clear  proof  that  his  expressions  of 
thankfulness  for  his  daily  food  were  not 
reserved  for  special  occasions,  that  they 
were  more  than  the  decent  formalities  ob- 
served by  his  countrymen,  that  they  were 
so  constant  and  so  fervent  as  to  charac- 
terize him.  His  heart-warming  discourse 
did  not  betray  him.  Tiie  disciples  them- 
selves say  "  that  he  was  known  of  them  in 
breaking  of  bread." 

And  why  all  this?  Why  this  bringing 
of  devotion  to  bear  upon  the  trifles  of  life  ? 
Because  God  is  in  all  these  trifles;  be- 
cause we  have  not  a  single  enjoyment  or 
comfort  which  he  does  not  give  us  ;  because 
moreover  we  are  commanded  to  acknow- 
ledge him  and  glorify  him  in  every  thing. 
"  Whether  ye  eat  or  drink,"  says  the  Holy 
Spirit,  "  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to  the 
glory  of  God."  Besides,  where  there  is 
real  devotion  in  the  heart,  it  will  appear, 
and  appear  habitually  in  the  life.  Tiiere 
is  no  confining  of  it  to  the  church  or  the 
closet;  it  is  within  the  man,  and  wherever 
the  man  goes,  his  religion  will  go  with  Iiim. 
It  is  become  a  part  of  himself;  no  longer 
what  it  was  once,  a  garment  to  l^e  put  on 
at  one  time  and  thrown  ofl'  at  another,  but 
as  inseparable  from  him  as  his  form  or  his 
life. 

True  religion,  brethren,  is  not  an  act, 
but  a  habit ;  not  an   impulse  or  emotion, 


130 


THE  MULTITUDE  FED  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


but  a  principle ;  not  a  sudden  torrent,  pro- 
duced  by  the  snows  of  winter  or  the  thun- 
der-storm of  summer,  it  is  a  stream  ever 
runnincT,  varying  indeed  in  its  breadth  and 
depth,  but  from  the  moment  of  its  rise,  ever 
flowing  on  till  it  readies  the  ocean  of  ever- 
lasting life.  Banish  God  from  your  meals, 
or  habitually  from  any  thing,  and  you 
might  as  well  banish  him  from  every  thing. 
Your  religion  is  a  notion  or  a  form,  and 
will  prove  in  the  end  a  delusion. 

3.  Notice  also  the  munificence,  the  liber- 
ality, with  which  our  Lord  spread  this  wide 
board  for  this  vast  nmltitude. 

"  The  two  fishes  divided  he  among  them 
all ;  and  they  did  all  cat  and  were  filled." 
None  were  excluded,  none  were  controlled, 
none  went  away  dissatisfied.  There  was 
enough  and  to  spare.  And  had  the  num- 
ber of  these  five  thousand  men  been  multi- 
plied a  thousand  fold,  it  would  have  been 
the  same  ;  the  evangelist  would  still  have 
told  us  with  the  same  simplicity  and  truth, 
"they  did  all  eat  and  were  filled." 

And  think  not,  brethren,  that  you  can 
ever  exhaust  the  grace,  or  diminish  the 
fulness,  of  your  almighty  Saviour.  You 
may  come  to  him  for  the  pardon  in  one 
moment  of  the  sins  of  a  whole  life,  and 
these  sins  may  be  as  many  in  number  as 
the  moments  you  have  breathed,  and  as 
dark  in  their  character  as  the  desperate 
wickedness  of  your  own  vile  hearts,  it 
matters  not;  "with  him  is  plenteous  re- 
demption ;"  "  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
cleanseth  from  all  sin;"  "he  will  abun- 
dantly pardon."  And  if  you  come  to  him 
again,  he  will  pardon  again  ;  he  will 
"  multiply  pai-dons."  And  did  you  come 
with  a  throng  of  sinners  more  numerous 
than  the  sands  of  the  sea-shore,  and  all  as 
deeply  laden  with  iniquities  as  yourselves, 
you  would  be  pardoned  as  soon  and  par- 
doned as  freely ;  and  when  you  looked 
around  on  that  guilty  multitude,  not  one 
unpardoned  transgressor  w^ould  you  find 
among  them  all  ;  no,  nor  an  unpardoned 
sin.  And  when  you  turned  your  wondering 
eyes  again  on  your  merciful  Lord,  you 
would  see  him  waiting  still  to  be  gracious, 
his  love  would  be  as  overflowing  as  before, 
his  forgiveness  as  ready  and  as  free,  his 
power  as  vast,  his  invitations  as  extensive, 
his  pleadings  as  earnest,  his  heaven  as 
open. 

And  if  you  come  to  him  for  any  other 
mercy,   yea,  for   all   the   mercies   that  a 


creature  finite  like  you  can  receive  or  an 
infinite  God  can  give,  you  may  have  thern 
all,  and  in  an  abundance  that  you  can  no 
more  measure  than  you  can  span  the  uni- 
verse. "  He  is  able  to  do  exceeding  abun- 
dantly above  all  that  we  ask  or  think." 
"  He  is  a  God  full  of  compassion  and  gra- 
cious."  As  he  spreads  his  table  in  the 
wilderness,  this  is  his  call  to  a  world  of 
sinners,  "  I'^at,  O  friends;  drink,  yea, 
drink  abundantly,  O  beloved."  And  this  is 
his  promise  to  his  Zion,  "I  will  abundantly 
bless  her  provision,  I  will  satisfy  her  poor 
with  bread." 

IIL  The  time  chosen  for  this  miracle 
calls  now  for  our  notice. 

The  thirty-fifth  verse  says  that  it  was 
wrought  in  the  evening,  "  when  the  day  was 
now  far  passed  ;"  when  the  disciples  began 
to  be  concerned  for  the  safety,  or,  at  all 
events,  ibr  the  comfort,  of  the  people.  And 
not  ohly  so,  the  loaves  were  not  multiplied 
till  these  disciples  had  been  taught  that 
they  could  do  nothing  for  the  hungry  crowd. 
"  They  have  nothing  to  eat,"  said  they. 
"  Give  ye  them  to  eat,"  answered  Christ ; 
thus  reminding  them  of  their  utter  inability 
to  help  themselves  or  others.  And  that 
this  delay  was  the  eifect  of  design,  not  of 
accident,  may  fairly  be  inferred  from  the 
still  longer  delay  which  took  place  before 
the  performing  of  a  similar  miracle  on, a 
similar  occasion.  Then  Ciirist  began  first. 
"  In  those  days,"  we  read  in  the  eighth 
chapter  of  this  gospel,  "  the  multitude  be- 
ing  very  great  and  having  nothing  to  cat, 
Jesus  called  his  disciples  unto  him,  and 
saith  unto  them,  I  have  compassion  on  the 
multitude  because  they  have  now  been  with 
mo  three  days,  and  have  nothing  to  eat; 
and  if  I  send  them  away  fasting  to  their 
own  houses,  they  will  fiiint  by  the  way." 
And  why  this  delay  ?  Why  not  have  fed 
these  multitudes  earlier  ?  Why  keep  them 
till  they  were  thus  spent  ?  For  their  spir- 
itual benefit,  for  our  souls'  good  ;  to  show 
us  this — our  Lord's  determination  to  make 
his  creatures  feel  their  wants  before  he 
supplies  them  ;  to  bring  out  our  weakness 
and  lay  it  bare,  before  he  manifests  in  us 
his  strength. 

This  mode  of  proceeding  runs  through 
all  his  dealings  with  us,  whether  in  provi- 
dence or  in  grace.  He  humbles  us  "  under 
his  mighty  hand,"  before  he  exalts  us ;  he 
breaks  our  hearts,  before  he  heals  them ; 
he  causes  us  to  groan  under  the  burden  of 


THE  MULTITUDE  FED  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


131 


oui  guilt,  before  he  removes  it ;  he  never 
conquers  our  lusts  for  us,  before  he  has 
taught  us  to  discover  and  hate  them.  Nay, 
anxiously  as  he  desires  our  holiness,  it  is 
not  till  we  are  brought  to  "  hunger  and 
thirst  after  righteousness"  more  than  for 
any  thing  else,  that  we  are  filled.  And 
when  has  he  given  us  strength,  and  conso- 
lation, and  joy,  those  pleasures  which  have 
almost  turned  the  earth  into  a  heaven  ?  It 
has  been  when  we  have  found  out  that  there 
are  no  pleasures  anywhere  else  ;  when  wo 
have  felt  ourselves  poor,  and  our  friends 
poor,  and  the  world  poor,  and  the  whole 
universe  poor  ;  when  our  hearts  have  been 
fainting  with  sorrow,  and  well-nigh  burst- 
ing with  wretchedness.  It  is  a  blessed  thing 
for  God  to  empty  the  soul ;  a  blessed  thing 
Ko  have  self- righteousness,  and  self-dopcn- 
dencc,  and  all  earthly  confidence,  beaten 
down.  It  is  a  sure  forerunner  of  mercy, 
and  of  mercy  such  as  this — great  mercy, 
striking  mercv,  mercy  that  makes  us  won- 
der as  we  receive  it,  mercy  that  satisfies, 
mercy  that  is  like  this  miraculous  bread — 
as  we  eat  of  it  we  are  filled. 

IV.  And  this  is  nearly  the  same  ti-uth 
that  our  fourth  subject  will  suggest  to  us — 
the  place  where  this  miracle  was  performed. 

The  scene  of  it,  we  are  told,  was  a  des- 
ert, a  barren  sliore  of  the  lake  of  Galilee  ; 
a  place  unproductive  of  provisions,  and  re- 
mote from  any  visible  moans  of  supply ;  the 
last  place,  in  fact,  in  which  these  men  ex- 
pected to  eat  and  be  filled.  And  more  than 
this — it  was  a  desert  wherein  the  Saviour 
had  led  them  ;  at  least,  they  would  not  have 
been  found  there  had  ho  not  gone  there  be- 
fore them.     They  followed  him  thither. 

You  discover  then  at  once,  brethren,  the 
lesson  wc  have  to  learn  here — our  richest 
supplies,  our  best  comforts,  are  not  the 
growth  of  our  worldly  prosperity,  nor  often 
the  companions  of  our  worldly  ease  ;  they 
come  to  us  in  situations  and  under  circum- 
stances, which  seem  to  cut  us  off  from  ev- 
ery comf  )rt  and  supply.  We  receive  them 
in  alHiction,  and  never  so  abundantly  as  in 
those  deep  afllictions,  those  extremities  of 
suffering  or  trout)le,  into  which  our  Master 
himself  has  the  most  visibly  led  us.  And 
not  only  so,  they  often  seem  to  grow  out  of 
our  afflictions.  We  are  fed  in  the  desert, 
and  by  food  which  is  created  in  the  desert, 
and  which,  as  far  as  wc  can  see,  we  should 
never  have  had  put  into  o'lr  hands  had  we 
not  been  in  the  desert.    Ths  miracle  seems 


like  a  practical  commentary  on  that  strange 
but  gracious  promise  of  the  Lord  to  the 
Jewish  church;  "  Behold,  I  will  allure  her, 
and  bring  her  into  the  wilderness,  and  speak 
comfortably  unto  her.  And  I  will  give  her 
her  vineyards  from  thence;"  "her  vines 
shall  spring  up  where  nothing  ever  grew 
before  but  briers  and  thorns." 

And  what  have  your  own  lives  been, 
Christian  brethren  ?  They  have  all  been 
in  harmony  with  this  miracle  and  this  prom- 
ise. Think  of  the  deserts  in  which  you 
have  wandered. 

Outward  affliction  has  been  one  of  these. 
You  have  been  in  it,  and  dark  indeed  were 
your  fears  as  you  entered  it ;  and  yet  did 
your  souls  starve  ?  Did  you  sink  down  ex- 
hausted in  that  wilderness  ?  "  Your  foot 
had  well-nigh  slipped,"  for  a  time  you  al- 
most fainted  ;  but  the  supply  came  at"  last, 
and  turned  that  scene  of  desolation  into  a 
fruitful  land.  O  what  vineyards  have  you 
had  from  thence  !  what  refreshments  have 
been  sent  you  there  from  on  high  !  what 
support,  and  love,  and  tenderness,  have  you 
experienced  !  Often  when  an  object  of 
compassion  perhaps  to  earthly  friends,  you 
have  been  singing  aloud  with  happiness. 

Spiritual  sorrow  too,  conviction  of  sin,  is 
another  wilderness ;  a  dark  and  fearful 
one ;  none  on  earth  more  fearful.  Who 
does  not  remember  the  wonder,  and  confu- 
sion, and  terror,  of  that  hour,  when  God 
first  made  him  feel  he  had  a  guilty  soul  ? 
But  what  did  you  ultimately  get  out  of  that 
land  of  darkness  ?  What  came  out  of  all 
those  fears  and  alarms  ?  A  discovery  of 
redeeming  love,  an  insight  into  the  virtue 
and  glory  of  the  Saviour's  cross,  a  peace, 
a  hope,  a  'joy  in  believing,  which  have  done 
for  you,  what  ? — not  reconciled  you  to  your 
guilt!  —  God  forbid!  —  but  which  have 
caused  you  to  deem  the  discovery  vouch- 
safed you  of  that  guilt  the  greatest  blessing 
of  your  life.  If  there  is  one  thing  for 
which  you  are  thankful,  it  is  this,  that  you 
have  trembled  under  the  burden  of  sin  and 
wept  under  a  sense  of  your  pollution. 

O  never  let  us  fear  the  desert,  as  long  as 
we  are  there  with  the  ^  n^,]  Jesus  Christ. 
A  thousand  times  over  has  he  lurnished  for 
his  people  a  table  in  the  wilderness,  and 
never  on  this  side  heaven  will  they  be  any- 
where  else  so  well  supplied.  In  other  spots, 
there  is  often  hunger  amid  seeming  plente- 
ousness ;  our  souls  have  felt  it,  and  been 
well-nigh  famished ;  but  look  through  the 


132 


THE  LOST  SHEEP  BROUGHT  HOME. 


whole  cnurch,  look  at  that  great  multitude 
who  have  shared  its  sorrows — we  may  say 
of  them  all,  when  Christ  has  allured  them 
arxd  led  them  into  the  wilderness,  "  they 
did  all  eat  and  were  filled." 

And  here  I  must  end,  not  however  with- 
out suggesting  to  you  this  one  reflection — 
H(m  glorious  a  Being  is  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ ! 

Look  once  more  at  the  scene  this  scrip- 
ture presents.  One  man  standing  amidst  a 
multitude  of  five  thousand  men,  and  satis- 
fying them  all  with  his  single  hand ;  and 
that  not  from  any  supplies  previously  col- 
lected,  but  creating  food  as  he  distributes 
it,  and  creating  and  distributing  it  as  long 
as  any  one  will  take  it,  and  doing  all  this 
without  an  etFo'rt  or  a  boast,  with  thankful- 
ness and  prayer ; — there  is  indeed  great- 
ness in  this  spectacle,  a  silent  but  mighty 
greatness,  that  no  royal  banquet,  that  no 
external  pomp,  that  no  earthly  pageant, 
ever  yet  displayed.  But  after  all,  to  what 
does  it  amount  ?  The  Lord  Christ  feeding 
for  an  hour  one  company  with  the  bread 
that  perishes  !  Why,  brethren,  he  has  been 
feeding  for  ages  the  whole  multitude  of 
heaven  with  imperishable  joys;  and  the 
time  is  fast  coming  on,  when  around  him 
will  be  assembled,  not  five  thousand,  bat 
ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  of  his 
saints ;  all  the  spirits  in  all  the  worlds  that 
he  has  redeemed  or  upheld  ;  all  filled  and 
overflowing  with  happiness,  and  not  a  thrill, 
not  an  emotion,  of  happiness  to  be  found 
among  them,  wliich  has  not  him  for  its  Cre- 
ator and  Giver. 

O  the  glory  of  that  Being  who  is  the  sin- 
ner's refuge  and  hope  !  What  an  amazing 
power  to  bless  is  hidden  in  him  !  What  an 
inexhaustiljlc,  infinite  fulness!  To  be  faint- 
ing with  want,  to  be  starving  and  perishing, 
while  such  a  Being  says,  "  I  am  the  bread 
of  life;" — if  you  have  never  wondered  be- 
fore, go  away  and  deem  yourselves  now 
the  greatest  wonders  in  the  world.  A  hap- 
py, redeemed  sinner  in  heaven  makes  all 
heaven  marvel  ;  but  a  sinner  starving  on 
the  earth,  with  such  a  Saviour  near  him  as 
Jesus  Clirist ;  a  man  <lestitute  of  the  food 
his  soul  needs  in  a  Christian  country  and 
in  a  Christian  church,  with  the  tidings  of 
the  gospel  sounding  in  his  ears,  and  the 
blessings  of  the  gospel  waiting  his  accept- 
ance— there  is  no  wonder  greater  than  this, 
none  half  so  awful.  And  yet  some  of  us 
must  say,  "  Tliat  wonder  am  L    That  crea- 


ture starving  in  the  midst  of  plenty ;  carry- 
ing about  an  empty  soul  without  a  wish  to 
have  it  filled  ;  never  once  asking  mercy  for 
it,  and  trampling  every  moment  on  the  food 
that  would  save  and  gladden  it : — that  won- 
der am  L"  And  what  will  be  the  end  of 
this  mysterious  folly  ?  Prayer  or  ruin ; 
conversion  or  death  ;  an  awakened,  re- 
newed, supplicating,  abased  soul  here,  or  a 
starved  soul,  a  lost  soul,  forever 


SERMON    XXV. 

THE  LOST  SHEEP  BROUGHT  HOME. 
St.  Luke  xv.  4,  5,  6. 

Whatman  of  you,  having  an  hundred  sheep,  if  he 
lose  one  of  them,  doth  not  leave  the  ninety  and 
nine  in  the  loilderness,  and  go  after  that  which 
is  lost,  until  he  find  it  ?  And  when  he  hath 
found  it,  he  layeth  it  on  his  shoulders,  rejoicing. 
And  when  he  cometh  home,  he  callcth  together 
his  friends  and  neighbors,  saying  unto  them, 
Rejoice  with  7ne,  for  I  have  found  my  sheep 
which  was  lost. 

This  parable  was  spoken  by  our  Lord 
in  his  own  defence.  His  old  enemies,  the 
scribes  and  Pharisees,  had  turned  his  con- 
descension into  a  ground  of  attack  on  him. 
"  This  man,"  said  they,  "  receiveth  sin- 
ners." The  charge  was  not  repelled. 
With  a  silent  dignity,  the  patient  Saviour 
admits  its  truth,  passes  over,  as  though  un- 
noticed, the  proud  selfishness  it  manifested, 
and  stoops  down  at  once  to  justify  the  com- 
passion it  condemned.  He  appeals  to  the 
ordinary  conduct  of  the  people  who  sur- 
rounded him,  conduct  approved  and  fol- 
lowed by  these  very  murmurers,  and  finds 
in  that  a  triumphant  vindication  of  his  own. 

And  in  doing  this,  he  does  more  than 
this.  He  turns  his  weapon  of  defence  into 
an  instrument  of  mercy,  silencing  these 
Jews  by  words  of  which  they  were  not 
worthy  ;  words  evidently  intended  for  men 
of  another  spirit,  and  for  another  purpose  ; 
intended  perhaps  for  some  of  you  ;  design- 
ed to  excite  hope,  and  adoration,  and  joy, 
this  very  day  in  your  hearts.  They  bring 
before  us  an  object  of  peculiar  need,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  of  peculiar  care  and  mer- 
cy— a  wortliless  sinner,  recovered,  saved, 
and  carri(^d  joyfully  to  heaven,  by  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 


THE  LOST  SHEEP  BROUGHT  HOME. 


133 


t.  The  parable  represents  his  natural 
condition.  And  what  marvellous  compas- 
sion breaks  forth  in  the  description  given  us 
of  this  !  A  veil  is  thrown  over  all  that  we 
might  have  expected  to  be  most  conspicu- 
ous in  it.  Not  a  word  is  said  of  man's 
criminality  or  man's  pollution.  The  bless- 
ed Jesus  appears  to  lose  sight  of  both.  He 
speaks  as  a  father,  forgetting,  in  the  mise- 
ry of  his  children,  all  their  guilt.  "  Sin- 
ners," said  the  Jews.  "  No,"  says  Christ, 
"  lost  sheep  ;  poor,  thoughtless  wanderers 
from  their  home." 

The  figure  conveys  to  us  three  ideas. 

1.  The  first  is  loant ;  not  absolute  want, 
perhaps,  not  complete  destitution — for  the 
rocky  mountain  may  yield  some  food,  and 
the  sandy  desert  some  refreshment ;  but 
the  sheep  is  avvay  from  the  fold  ;  it  has 
consequently  no  satisfying,  no  adequate,  no 
certain  pasture  ;  it  liVes,  if  it  lives  at  all, 
in  hunger  and  weariness. 

And  what  is  our  condition  when  at  a  dis- 
tance from  God  ?  It  is  worse  than  the 
condition  of  this  lost  sheep,  more  necessi- 
tous and  desolate.  Regard  us  indeed  as 
no  better  than  machines  of  flesh  and  blood, 
creatures  with  no  higher  capacities  than 
the  brute  beasts  that  perish,  then  there  is 
enough  for  us,  and  more  than  enough,  in 
this  well  stored  world.  But  admit  that 
"  there  is  a  spirit  in  man,"  view  him  as  a 
being  endowed  with  mind  and  aflfections, 
with  a  feeling  heart  and  a  thinking  soul, 
there  is  not  one  of  our  race,  however  de- 
graded, whom  the  whole  earth  could  satisfy, 
nor  a  longing  for  happiness  in  any  one 
breast,  that  the  whole  material  universe 
could  fill. 

The  man  born  from  above  knows  this 
well ;  but  I  appeal  not  to  him  ;  no,  nor  to 
thai  wretched  groveller  in  tlu-  dust,  whom 
the  disappointments  of  life  liave  soured 
and  chilled.  I  ask  the  happiest  of  you  all, 
the  young,  and  light-hearted,  and  pros- 
perous, what  is  the  world  to  you  ?  It  may 
be  your  all,  but  are  you  satisfied  with 
your  all  ?  Has  it  not  left  wants  within 
you,  great  and  painful  wants,  which  you 
cannot  quiet  ?  Conscience  tells  you  it  has. 
You  could  hardly  define  them,  you  never 
talk  of  them,  you  try  to  bury  them  deep  in 
the  secrecy  of  your  own  breasts,  to  lose  the 
sense  of  them  in  the  excitements  of  pleas- 
ure or  the  hurry  of  business,  but  you  feel 
them  still  ;  thci'e  are  moments  when  you 
hardly  know  how  to  bear  them,  when  vou 


are  conscious  of  such  thirstings  within  and 
such  dissatisfaction  with  every  thing  with- 
out you,  that  the  world  seems  a  desert,  and 
you  starving  in  it  and  wretched.  And  this 
feeling  of  desolation  all  springs  from  one 
sooi'ce — you  are  as  sheep  that  are  lost. 
You  are  at  a  distance  from  God,  the  foun- 
tain of  happiness  ;  and  the  blessedness  that 
flows  from  his  presence  is  consequently  at 
a  distance  from  you. 

2.  And  think  oUhe  danger  of  such  a  state. 
A  sheep  in  eastern  countries,  when  away 

from  the  shepherd,  is  never  safe.  No  ani- 
mal is  beset  with  more  enemies,  or  exposed 
to  greater  perils.  And  to  what  are  we  ex- 
posed ?  To  foes  so  numerous  and  dangers 
so  manifold,  that  the  mind  is  bewildered  as 
it  contemplates  them.  A  soul  delivered 
from  them,  is  one  of  the  greatest  wonders 
in  the  creation  of  God.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  splendid  manifestations,  we  might  al- 
most say,  one  of  the  mightiest  efforts  of  his 
omnipotence.  As  such  Saint  Peter  re- 
garded it.  He  says  of  the  redeemed,  that 
they  are  "  kept,"  and  how  ?  By  God  ?  by 
his  grace  and  love  ?  No  ;  they  are  "  kept 
by  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation." 

And  to  aggravate  the  dangers  encom- 
passing us,  we  are  naturally  fearless  of 
them  ;  unconscious  perhaps  of  their  exist- 
ence ;  nay,  we  meet,  we  court  them.  A 
sheep  straying  where  the  lions  roam  and 
the  tiger  lurks,  is  a  representation  that  does 
not  come  up  to  the  fact.  Behold  that  sheep 
running  to  sport  by  the  tiger's  side,  ^oing . 
for  rest  in  its  weariness  into  the  lion's  hi- 
ding place  ;  and  there  is  a  more  exact  em- 
blem of  man's  danger  and  man's  reckless- 
ness. 

3.  And  we  must  add  to  these  features  of 
our  condition  yet  one  more — helplessness. 

The  sheep  has  neither  strength  to  over- 
come, courage  to  resist,  nor  swiftness  to 
elude  its  enemies.  Its  preservation  de- 
p<^nds  entirely  on  the  shepherd's  arm  and 
the  fold's  security.  And  herein,  again,  it 
represents  us  and  our  state,  with  fearful 
precision.  Not  that  in  this  helplessness, 
considered  in  itself,  there  is  any  tliing  ff>ar- 
ful.  We  share  it  in  common  with  the  v  hole 
creation.  Sin  has  not  entailed  it  on  us. 
The  highest  archangel  that  does  the  bid- 
ding  of  Jehovah  in  heaven,  or  the  purest 
spirit  that  worships  him  there,  has  no  more 
strength  in  himself  than  the  most  lost  of  lost- 
men  :  he  is  no  more  able  to  satisfy  his  own 
soul   than  to  create  a  wovl  1.     And  place 


134 


THE  LOST  SHEEP  BROUGHT  HOME. 


even  us  in  heaven,  place  us  anywhere  by 
the  side  of  our  God,  we  may  rejoice  in  our 
weakness.  It  binds  us  to  the  Holy  One  ; 
It  is  a  claim  on  his  pit)-  and  care,  which  he 
never  disowns.  But  when  separated  from 
God~  this  weakness  of  our  nature  becomes 
an  appalling  evil.  There  is  ruin  in  it. 
"  Every  one  that  findeth  me,"  said  the 
wretched  Cain,  "  shall  slay  me  ;"  and  we 
may  say  the  same  of  all  the  perils  that  be- 
set us.  Left  to  ourselves,  we  have  neither 
the  power  nor  the  will  to  escape  them.  As- 
sault is  the  same  as  defeat ;  temptation  is 
another  word  for  sin,  and  danger  another 
name  for  destruction. 

This  is  our  condition,  brethren,  and  in  all 
the  need,  peril,  and  weakness  of  it,  every 
redeemed  spirit  was  once  involved.  The 
parable  places  him  in  the  midst  of  his 
wretchedness,  and  then  goes  on  to  tell  us 
how  he  was  extricated. 

II.  It  bids  us  notice  the  conduct  of  Christ 
towards  him. 

] .  The  first  circumstance  that  strikes  us 
in  this,  is  the  Redeemer's  cai'e  and  concern 
for  the  lost  sinner.  He  is  aware  of  his 
loss  ;   he  misses  him. 

Among  a  hundred  sheep,  it  might  have 
been  conceived  that  the  absence  of  one 
would  probably  escape  observation  ;  and 
even  if  observed,  would  occasion  very  lit- 
tle concern  ;"  but  the  parable  takes  the  re- 
verse of  this  for  granted.  It  supposes  that 
every  one  of  the  flock  is  under  the  shep- 
herd's eye ;  that  when  it  strays,  its  wan- 
dering is  noticed  and  its  loss  felt.  And 
the  same  Bible  that  descril)es  the  Lord  Je- 
sus Christ  as  the  great  Shepherd  of  his 
church,  describes  him  as  a  Being  whose 
care  is  not  only  extensive,  reaching  to  all 
the  worlds  that  crowd  his  universe,  but  par- 
ticular and  close  ;  fastened  as  much  on 
every  creature  iiis  hands  have  formed,  as 
though  he  had  formed  none  other,  as  though 
that  one  creature  were  tlie  only  object  of 
his  care.  And  when  we  add  to  this  anoth- 
er truth,  that  lie  has  a  special  love  for  this 
fallen  world  as  the  chosen  theatre  of  his 
manifestation,  and  sojourning,  and  glory  • 
and  a  more  peculiar  love  still  for  those  in 
it  whom  he  has  bought  with  his  blood  ;  we 
need  not  wonder  tiiat  neither  the  glories  of 
heaven  nor  the  confusion  of  earth,  can 
conceal  the  wandering  of  one  poor  sinner 
from  his  eye.  Besides,  his  sheep  are  his 
charge  :  he  received  thrni  ;ts  a  sacred 
trust  from  Jehovah  to  be   rcturiud  to  him 


again  ;  and  as  a  faithful  Servant,  he  must 
watch  over  this  charge  ;  the  flock  which 
his  Father  has  given  him,  must  be  com. 
plete.  Hence  he  speaks  of  himself  as  ex- 
ercising a  care  far  beyond  that  of  any 
earthly  guardian  :  as  knowing  not  only  the 
number  of  his  peopie,  but  their  persons, 
and  characters,  and  circumstances  ;  and 
deriving  a  part  of  his  excellence  and  glory 
from  this  knowledge.  "  I  am  the  good 
Shepherd,"  he  says,  ''and  know  my  sheep." 
"  He  telleth  the  number  of  the  stars,"  says 
the  psalmist  ;  "  he  calleth  them  all  by 
their  names  ;"  but  he  says  of  himself,  "  He 
calleth  his  own  sheep  by  name."  And  if 
this  be  not  enough,  he  turns  again  to  his 
redeemed,  and  says  to  them  plainly,  with- 
out exaggeration  or  metaphor,  "  Even  the 
very  hairs  of  your  head  are  all  numbered." 

2.  A  care  thus  extraordinary  in  its  na- 
ture, may  naturally  be  expected  to  lead  to 
action,  and  action  as  extraordinary  as 
itself.  And  it  does  so.  The  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  seeks  the  lost  sinner. 

The  shepherd  in  the  parable  is  supposed 
to  leave  the  ninety  and  nine  sheep  in  the 
wilderness  ;  that  is,  safe  amidst  the  culti- 
vated grounds  or  enclosed  pastures  of  the 
wilderness  ;  and  to  "  go  after  that  which 
is  lost."  And  why  does  he  go  after  it? 
Because  "  thai  which  is  lost,"  can  be  re- 
covered by  no  other  means.  The  M'an- 
dering  sheep  never  returns.  Not  like  the 
dog  or  the  dove  that  will  find  its  way  back 
from  almost  any  distance,  it  cannot  retrace 
its  steps.  Once  a  wanderer,  it  wanders  on 
forever.  And  when  did  an  erring  sinner 
ever  return  to  his  forsaken  God  ?  Of  his 
own  accord,  never ;  and  were  the  world  to 
stand  ten  thousand  years,  and  were  the 
same  question  to  be  asked  at  the  end  of 
those  years,  the  same  answer  would  still 
be  given — never.  The  thing  is  impossible. 
Sin  has  rendered  it  impossible.  It  alien- 
ates man  from  God.  It  throws  up  a  bar- 
rier between  them  in  man's  own  heart.  It 
deprives  him  of  the  very  desire  to  return. 
Show  him  the  bridge  that  Christ  has  thrown 
over  the  gulf  which  separates  earth  from 
heaven,  he  will  not  so  much  as  set  a  foot 
on  it ;  he  would  rather  starve  and  sink 
where  he  is. 

But  O  the  unsearchable  grace  of  Jeho- 
vah !  he  goes  after  the  creature  that  will 
not  inquire  after  him.  He  comes  down 
out  of  iieaven,  from  the  most  glorious  place 
in  the  creation  to  one  of  the  dreariest,  and 


THE  LOST  SHEEP  BRUL'CillT  HOME. 


135 


this,  he  tells  us,  is  his  errand,  "  to  seek  and 
to  save  that  which  was  lost."'  And  when 
arrived  on  the  earth,  no  part  of  it  did  he 
leave  unsou<j;ht,  that  he  migiit  find  his  own. 
He  goes  to  Siimaria,  to  seek  a  lost  woman 
there  ;  to  Bethany,  to  seek  Mary,  and  Mar- 
tha, and  Lazarus  ;  to  guilty  Sidon,  to  seek 
the  woman  of  Canaan  ;  to  accursed  Jeri- 
cho, to  seek  Zaccheus.  He  goes  to  the  re- 
ceipt of  custom,  that  he  may  find  the  pub- 
lican .Alatthew ;  to  the  sea-side,  that  he 
may  call  to  himself  Peter,  and  James,  and 
John.  And  while  hanging  on  the  cross, 
in  the  very  agonies  of  death,  his  work  of 
searching  is  uot  suspended.  lie  turns 
round  to  the  malefactors  beside  him,  and 
sees  in  one  of  them  a  sheep  of  his  fold,  a 
companion  for  paradise.  And  the  same 
work  is  going  on  now.  By  his  word,  and 
his  ministers,  and  his  providence,  and  his 
Spirit,  he  is  at  this  day  and  at  this  moment 
seeking  us  ;  and  were  we  on  the  very  verge 
of  destruction,  nay,  were  there  but  a  step 
between  us  and  all  that  is  fearful,  he  would 
follow  us  on  ;  he  would  seek  us  still ;  he 
would  still  desire  and  labor  to  pluck  us  as 
"  brands  from  the  burning."'  Hear  his  own 
language  by  his  propiiet  Ezekiel  :  "  Thus 
saith  the  Lord  God,  Behold  I,  even  I,  will 
both  search  my  sheep  and  seek  them  out. 
As  a  shepherd  seeketh  out  his  flock  in  the 
day  that  he  is  among  his  sheep  that  are 
scattered,  so  will  I  seek  out  my  sheep,  and 
will  deliver  them  out  of  all  places  where 
they  have  been  scattered  in  the  cloudy  and 
dark  day." 

3.  And  this  promise  carries  us  on  to 
another  part  of  the  Lord's  merciful  con- 
duct towards  the  sinner — he  finds  him. 

He  misses  "  that  which  is  lost;"  there  is 
his  care,  his  watchfulness: — he  goes  after 
it;  there  is  his  anxiety,  his  diligence; — 
he  finds  it ;  there,  his  perseverance,  his 
success. 

And  what  are  we  to  understand  by  his 
finding  it  ?  Nothing  more  than  his  making 
sermons,  and  afilictions,  and  mercies,  effec- 
tual ;  causing  them  by  his  Spirit  to  do 
their  appointed  work  ;  overtaking  the  sin- 
ner by  them  in  his  way  to  ruin,  slopping 
and  turning  him.  Were  the  Saviour  this 
moment  to  find  you,  he  would  not  at  once 
take  you  away  from  all  the  evils  of  your 
condition,  but  he  would  open  your  eyes  to 
discover  tiiem,  and  your  hearts  to  care 
about  them.  He  wou.ld  make  you  as  care- 
less about  the  world  and  its  concerns,  as 


though  you  were  on  the  point  of  leaving 
it ;  as  fidl  of  an.xiety  about  eternity,  as 
thougli  you  saw  its  heaven  and  its  hell 
lying  open  before  you,  and  yourselves 
about  to  go  into  the  one  or  the  other.  The 
sermon  you  are  listening  to,  would  be 
heard  as  never  sermon  was  heard  by  you 
yet,  and  you  would  go  from  this  house  of 
God,  and  make  your  own  chambers,  per- 
haps for  the  first  time  since  those  cham- 
bers were  built,  places  of  prayer.  And 
not  this  only,  you  would  feel  yourselves 
lost ;  you  would  see  the  wants,  and  dan- 
gers, and  helplessness,  of  your  condition  : 
and  with  a  feeling  which  you  never  before 
experienced,  you  would  cry  aloud,  "  What 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  V  And  then  you 
would  cast  yourselves  on  Clnist  ;  and  that 
would  be  the  happiest  moment  of  your  life. 
Then  indeed  would  you  '•  be  found  of  him." 
His  hand  would  be  on  you,  and  his  Spirit 
within  you.  A  connection  would  begin 
between  him  and  your  soul,  so  close,  that 
henceforth  he  would  deem  you  one  with 
himself;  so  sweet,  that  you  would  cheer- 
fully give  up  all  the  world  rather  than 
have  it  severed ;  so  lasting,  that  when  all 
earthly  ties  are  snapped  asunder,  this  would 
be  strong  as  ever.  You  would  be  enabled 
to  stand  on  the  ruin  of  all  that  is  dear  to 
you,  on  the  wreck  of  a  perished  world, 
and  ask  with  the  exulting  Paul,  "  Who 
shall  separate  us  from  the  love  of  Christ? 
Shall  tribulation,  or  distress,  or  persecu- 
tion, or  famine,  or  nakedness,  or  peril,  or 
sword  ?  I  am  persuaded  that  neither  death 
nor  life  ;  nor  angels,  nor  principalities,  nor 
powers ;  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to 
come  ;  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  oth- 
er creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  us 
from  tlie  love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ  Je- 
sus our  Lord." 

4.  The  consequence  of  this  union  with 
Christ  would  be  a  blessed  experience  of 
another  act  of  his  goodness,  the  consum- 
mation of  his  mercy  towards  the  recovered 
sinner — he  hears  him  home.  "  And  when  he 
hath  found  it,"  says  the  text,  "  he  layeth  it 
on  his  shoulders."  We  know  why  the 
shepherd  places  it  there.  The  sheep,  worn 
out  by  its  wanderings  and  hardships,  may 
be  unable  to  follow  him ;  or  it  may  be  un- 
willing to  return  to  the  fold,  or  averse  to 
the  road  that  leads  to  it ;  or  dangers  nviy 
be  thick  around  ;  the  beasts  of  the  wood 
may  be  lying  in  wait,  and,  even  in  the 
shepherd's   presence,  seeking   to   destroy. 


136 


THE  LOST  SHEEP  BRCLGHT  HOME. 


He  accordingly  places  it  on  his  shoulders, 
and  thus  ensures  at  once  its  safety,  its  com- 
fort, and  its  arrival  at  home. 

We  need  no  apostle  or  prophet  to  explain 
to  us  a  figure  like  this.  It  tells  us  of  the 
distance  still  stretching  itself  out  between 
us  and  heaven  ;  of  the  mountains  to  be 
climbed  and  the  washes  to  be  traversed  ;  of 
the  ten  thousand  labors  and  dangers  that 
beset  the  road,  and  of  our  utter  inability  to 
avoid  or  surmount  one  of  them.  It  shows 
us  the  miserable  sheep  exhausted  and  sink- 
ing down  in  the  desert  far  away  from  its 
rest  ;  hungering  for  the  green  pastures  of 
the  fold,  but  unable  to  take  a  step  in  the 
way  to  them  ;  and  there,  it  says,  is  an 
image  of  ourselves.  And  then  it  tells  us 
of  the  power  we  have  so  often  felt  raising 
up  and  sustaining  us  ;  of  the  arm  we  have 
rested  on,  and  never  yet  found  it  fail  us  ; 
of  the  ease,  and  security,  and  blessedness, 
with  which  we  are  passing  through  temp- 
tations and  conflicts,  and  drawing  near,  al- 
most without  being  aware  of  it,  to  a  heav- 
enly land. 

It  is  cheering  to  think  of  the  blessed  Je- 
sus as  the  companion  of  our  pilgrimage  ; 
it  imparts  an  unutterable  delight  to  the 
soul,  to  feel  that  we  are  going  up  from  the 
wilderness  leaning  on  our  Beloved  ;  but 
this  thought  and  this  feeling  come  far  short 
of  the  truth.  We  are  not  by  his  side  ;  he 
tells  us  that  we  are  on  his  shoulders,  in  his 
bosom,  in  his  arms.  "  Ye  have  seen,"  he 
says  to  his  redeemed,  "  how  I  bare  you  on 
eagles'  wings,"  carried  you  with  more  than 
a  shepherd's  care,  with  a  father's  solici- 
tude, and  a  mother's  tenderness,  "  and 
brought  you,"  through  clouds,  and  storms, 
and  darkness,  "  unto  myself"  I  bare  you 
"  as  a  man  doth  bear  his  son,  in  all  the  way 
that  yc  went,  until  ye  came  vinto  this 
place. 

And  observe,  brethren,  the  peculiar  force 
of  this  language.  While  it  assures  you 
of  your  safety,  it  represents  that  safety  as 
depending  every  moment  solely  on  the  Lord 
Jesus.  You  can  never  perish,  not  because 
you  have  been  "  found  of  Christ,"  not  be- 
cause he  has  bought  you,  and  gone  after 
you,  and  made  you  his  own  ;  but  because 
you  are  on  his  shoulder,  borne  along  by 
him,  upheld  by  his  power.  You  arc  safe, 
but  your  safety  rests  not  in  yourselves;  it 
springs  not  from  any  thing  tiiat  has  been 
wrought  within  you  or  done  williout  you  ; 
it  lies  sin)ply  in  this  one  tiling — your  being  I 


in  the  constant  care  and  keeping  of  your 
omnipotent  Lord. 

And  this  is  the  view  given  us  in  this 
text  of  the  conduct  of  Christ  towards  the 
people  he  loves — he  misses  them  when  lost, 
he  seeks  them,  he  finds  them,  he  bears 
them  home.  What  a  wonderful  expendi- 
ture of  mercy  on  creatures  so  vile !  We 
throw  away  that  which  is  worthless,  for  we 
have  no  power  to  alter  its  nature  or  to  give 
it  value  ;  but  the  things  that  are  worthless, 
or  seem  so,  are  the  very  things  that  God 
gathers  up.  "  The  weak  things  of  the 
world,  and  base  things  of  the  world,  and 
things  that  are  despised,  hath  he  chosen," 
and  chosen  them  for  this  very  purpose,  that 
he  may  glorify  himself  by  making  them 
the  most  precious  and  splendid  of  the  treas- 
ures of  heaven. 

III.  We  have  yet  one  point  more  to  con- 
sider— the  feeling  with  lohich  the  great  Shep- 
herd of  the  church  carries  on  this  blessed 
work. 

And  this  feeling  is  as  wonderful  as  the 
work  itself.  It  is  not  pity,  it  is  not  com- 
passion or  kindness,  no,  nor  yet  love  ;  it  is 
joy,  and  joy  overflowing  ;  a  joy  so  great 
that  the  divine  mind  cannot  hold  it :  the 
whole  creation  is  called  on  to  come  and 
share  its  abundance.  "  He  layetb  it  on  his 
shoulders,  rejoicing.  And  when  he  cometh 
home,  he  calleth  together  his  friends  anoi 
neighbors,  saying  unto  them,  Rejoice  with 
me,  for  1  have  found  my  sheep  which  was 
lost." 

We  are  ready  perhaps  to  take  this  as  a 
mere  figure  of  speech,  as  little  or  nothing 
more  than  an  eastern  ornament,  meaning 
something  perhaps,  but  much  less  tlian  is 
expressed.  And  even  if  we  give  this  lan- 
guage what  we  consider  its  full  force,  even 
if  we  admit  that  the  Lord  Christ  actually 
experiences  some  joy  in  saving  his  church, 
we  are  tempted  to  tliink  that  it  is  only  as 
man  that  he  feels  it.  But  the  testimony  of 
scripture  on  this  point  is  plain  and  decisive. 
It  declares  that  in  the  divine  mind  itself, 
even  in  God  considered  as  God.  there  is 
joy  in  the  conversion  and  salvation  of  a 
transgressor's  soul.  Look  at  the  parables 
following  one  another  in  this  chapter.  The 
main  scope  of  them  all  is  to  imply,  if  not 
to  express,  this  very  thing.  Look  at  the 
explicit  declarations  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
"God,"  says  the  prophet  Micah,  "dclight- 
etli  in  nieixjy,"  in  pardnnmg,  redeeming 
mercy  ;  it  is  congenial  to  his  nature  ;  grati- 


THE  LOST  SHEEP  BROUGHT  HOME. 


137 


fying,  delightful  to  his  mind.  "Behold," 
says  Isaiah  in  the  name  of  Jehovah,  or 
rather  Jehovah  himself  by  his  servant's 
lips,  "  Behold,  1  create  Jerusalem  a  rejoic- 
ing, and  her  people  a  joy  ;  and  I  will  re- 
joice  in  Jerusalem,  and  joy  in  my  peo- 
ple." And  hear  Zephaniah,  another  pro- 
phet ;  "  The  Lord  thy  God,  in  the  midst  of 
thee,  is  mighty.  He  will  save ;  he  will 
rejoice  over  thee  with  joy  ;  he  will  rest  in 
his  love  ;  he  will  joy  over  thee  with  sing- 
ing." Now  these  and  similar  expressions 
can  mean  but  one  thing,  and  that  the  same 
thing  which  this  text  implies,  and  the  verse 
following  the  text  clearly  asserts — "  there 
is  joy  in  heaven  over  a  sinner  that  repent- 
eth,"  joy  among  the  angels,  joy  in  the 
human  soul  of  the  exalted  Jesus,  and  joy 
higher  still  in  the  infinite  mind  of  the  in- 
finite God.  There  is  joy  in  seeking  his 
people,  joy  in  finding  his  people,  joy  in 
upholding  and  preserving  his  people,  and 
joy  yet  more  abundant  in  bringing  them 
home  ;  a  joy  of  which  the  great  Jehovah  is 
not  ashamed  ;  he  publishes  it  amongst  his 
angels,  it  is  seen  among  the  shining  glories 
that  surround  him,  it  diffuses  itself  through 
the  immense  world  he  inhabits,  it  augments 
and  sweetens  those  pleasures  which  are 
at  his  right  hand  for  evermore. 

And  now,  brethren,  let  our  thoughts  come 
home  to  ourselves.  The  things  we  have 
heard  concern  ourselves.  They  concern 
us  as  closely  and  deeply,  as  though  there 
were  no  other  people  whom  they  concern  at 
all.  The  situation  referred  to  in  this  para- 
ble, either  is  or  has  been  our  own.  We 
have  a  thousand  times  acknowledged  it 
to  be  ours,  and  we  have  made  this  ac- 
knowledgment under  such  circumstances, 
that  if  we  have  been  insincere  in  it,  we 
have  "not  lied  unto  men,  but  unto  God." 
"  All  we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray," 
was  the  confession  of  the  church  of  old,  a 
confession  made  to  its  fellow-men.  We 
have  said  the  same  to  the  living  God. 
We  have  said  on  our  knees,  and  said  it  as 
though  we  were  anxious  for  our  words  to 
1)0  heard  in  heaven,  "  Almighty  and  most 
merciful  Father,  we  have  erred  and  strayed 
from  thy  ways  like  lost  slieep."  Now  if 
there  arc  any  amongst  us  who  have  really 
meant  what  this  language  imports,  any  who 
feel  themselves  to  be  as  sheep  that  are  lost, 
in  a  starv-ng,  dangerous,  and  perishing  con- 
dition ;  and  who,  at  the  same  time,  deplore 
this  condition,  and  Ions  al)0ve  all  things  for 
18 


deliverance  from  it ;  then  this  scripture 
exactly  meets  their  case.  It  admits  the 
truth  of  all  you  can  say  concerning  your 
misery  and  helplessness  ;  it  takes  you  on 
your  own  ground ;  and  standing  there,  it 
proclaims  to  you  relief.  It  shows  you  One 
moving  about  that  world  of  desolation  into 
which  you  have  wandered,  and  taking  out 
one  after  another  from  it,  and  bringing  him 
to  his  home.  It  tells  you  that  this  Deliverer 
is  able  to  save  those  who  are  utterly  unable 
to  save  themselves  ;  that  he  delights,  re- 
joices in  saving  them.  And  you  are  told 
this  to  let  you  see  how  able  and  willing  he 
is  to  save  you.  The  parable  before  us  was 
never  uttered  to  silence  a  company  of  mur- 
muring Pharisees ;  it  has  not  been  pre- 
served through  so  many  ages  merely  to 
grace  the  book  that  contains  it ;  it  has  not 
been  sounded  this  day  in  your  ears  to  ex- 
cite your  admiration  or  wonder:  its  purpose 
is  this — to  reach  your  hearts  ;  to  send  you 
to  your  closets  and  your  knees,  determined 
by  God's  help  to  be  no  longer  as  sheep  that 
are  lost,  but  rather  to  cast  yourselves  on 
your  Redeemer's  mercy,  to  confide  in  his 
grace,  to  prove  his  compassion,  to  add  to 
his  joy. 

Are  you  ignorant  of  your  spiritual  con- 
dition ?  or  knowing  it,  careless  about  it  ? 
anxious,  half  wearied  out  in  providing  for 
the  body,  but  reckless  about  the  immortal 
soul  ?  Then  let  this  scripture  produce  at 
least  one  effect  on  you — let  it  cause  you 
to  wonder.  The  gracious  conduct  it  de- 
scribes, is  not  a  mere  fiction.  Something 
like  what  it  represents  is  actually  going  on, 
and  going  on  every  hour.  The  blessed 
Jesus  is  anxious  for  the  sinner  that  is  lost, 
he  is  seeking  and  bearing  home  many  a 
ransomed  spirit,  and  is  doing  this  with  unut- 
teral)le  joy.  He  deems  even  the  lost  soul 
precious ;  it  is  never  for  one  moment  out 
of  his  thoughts :  and  yet,  though  this  lost 
soul  is  your  own,  you  care  no  more  about 
it  than  about  the  dust  in  your  path.  How 
can  this  strange  thing  be  ?  Well  may  I 
ask.  How  c?in  the  rescuing  of  such  a  soul 
as  mine  delight  an  infinite  God  ?  but  much 
greater  reason  have  I  to  ask.  How  is  it  pos- 
sible that  its  wretched  and  forlorn  state 
does  not  distress  me  ?  There  must  be  some- 
thing radically  amiss  within  me,  something 
that  perverts  my  judgment  and  hardens 
my  heart.  This  ease,  in  a  situation  like 
mine,  cannot  be  prudent ;  this  unconcern 
cannot  be  rational  ;  this  recklessness  can- 


138 


THE  COMPLAINT  OF  SAINT  PAUL. 


not  be  safe.  What  then  is  the  root  of  this 
mischief?  It  is  self-evident — I  have  a  dis- 
eased nature.  Madness  is  in  my  heart.  I 
must  be  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  my  mind. 
I  must  be  made  a  new  creature.  I  must 
be  born  again. 

And  what  says  this  scripture  to  you  wlio 
are  returned  to  tlie  Shepherd  and  Bishop 
of  your  souls  1  you  whom  Christ  has  sought, 
and  found,  and  is  carrying  home  ?  It  bids 
you  look  back  to  the  years  that  are  gone. 
It  asks  you  what  you  were  in  those  years, 
and  in  what  situation.  You  were  lost,  and 
almost  content  to  be  lost ;  amidst  wants, 
and  dangers,  and  wretchedness,  which  you 
had  no  strength  to  escape  nor  eyes  to  dis- 
cover. And  where  are  you  now  ?  On 
your  Saviour's  shoulder.  And  why  are 
you  tliere  ?  Because  if  left  to  yourselves, 
you  would  be  lost  again.  "  By  grace  are 
ye  saved,"  says  this  scripture  to  you,  by 
grace  alone.  It  bids  you  be  humble,  more 
humble  than  you  have  ever  been  yet.  And 
then  it  tells  you  to  look  forward.  How 
glorious  the  prospect  that  it  opens !  For 
creatures  such  as  we  are  to  enter  heaven  at 
all,  is  a  wonder  of  mercy,  a  manifestation 
of  goodness  almost  surpassing  belief.  Who 
that  has  ever  caught  a  glimpse  of  that  high 
world,  does  not  say  at  times,  "  My  polluted 
soul  can  nevQr  enter  it  ?"  But  to  be  brought 
there  by  Jehovah  himself;  to  hear  that 
holy  world  called  on  to  exult  in  our  arri- 
val, and  to  find  that  call  obeyed ;  to  dis- 
cover that  the  God  whose  love  and  even 
whose  pity  towards  us  we  have  so  long  sus- 
pected, is  admitting  us  to  the  glory  of  his 
presence,  and  receiving  us  there,  not  with 
the  cold  commiseration  we  often  ascribe  to 
him,  but  with  a  joy  so  overflowing,  so  real 
and  great,  that  his  own  infinite  mind  can 
hardly  contain  it ;  is  it  not  marvellous, 
brethren,  that  a  prospect  like  this  is  ever 
for  one  moment  out  of  our  thoughts  ?  A 
feeling  of  self-abasement,  a  thrilling  sense 
of  our  own  nothingness,  is  the  first,  and,  it 
may  bo,  the  strongest  emotion  that  ought  to 
abide  with  us ;  but  if  we  are  not  happy  and 
thankful,  where  shall  thankfulness  and  joy 
be  found  ?  In  our  lledeemer's  arms,  borne 
along  by  him  in  the  way  to  his  heavenly 
fold,  our  arrival  tliere  as  sure  as  his  grace, 
and  power,  and  covenant,  can  make  it, 
with  scarcely  a  step  between  us  and  its 
blessedness; — we  may  weep  and  tremble, 
but  then  are  our  souls  in  the  holiest  as  well 
as  the  happiest  state,  when  we  rejoice  as 


we  tremble  ;  when  our  songs  are  more 
numerous  than  our  tears  ;  when  praise  is 
at  once  our  work  and  our  delieht. 


SERMON  XXVI. 

THE  COMPLAINT  OF  SAINT  PAUL. 

Romans  vii.  24. 

O  wretched  man  that  I  am  !  who  shall  deliver 
me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ? 

We  are  all  familiar  with  the  language 
of  complaint.  We  hear  it  wherever  we 
go.  Scarcely  a  day  passes,  in  which  it 
does  not  proceed  from  our  own  lips.  But 
how  little  do  we  think  of  the  sin  that  is 
mixed  up  Avith  our  complaints !  Could 
we  see  them  in  their  real  character,  we 
should  number  many  of  them  among  our 
greatest  follies  and  heaviest  transgressions. 
Here  however  in  this  text,  is  one  of  a  holy 
and  blessed  character.  Happy  would  it 
be  for  us,  if  every  other  were  silenced 
among  us;  if  no  lamentation  were  ever 
heard  in  our  houses  and  chambers  save 
this  alone ! 

It  suggests  three  particulars  for  our  con- 
sideration ; — first,  the  person  who  makes 
it  ;  secondly,  the  evil  he  deplores  in  it ; 
and,  thirdly,  the  effects  which  this  evil 
produced  on  him. 

I,  "  Of  whom  then,"  we  may  ask  in  the 
first  instance,  "  spcaketh  the  apostle  this? 
Of  himself,  or  of  some  other  man  ?"  "Not 
of  himself,"  some  will  tell  us,  "  nor  of  any 
sincere  Christian.  He  is  speaking  in  the 
person  of  a  sinner  whom  God  has  compell- 
ed to  feel  the  burden  and  power  of  his 
corruptions,  but  in  whose  mind  the  love  of 
sin  still  reigns.  We  are  to  regard  his 
words  as  a  complaint  extorted,  in  an  hour 
of  thoughtfulness,  from  a  man  struggling 
at  once  with  an  enlightened  conscience 
and  an  ungodly  heart."  But  a  single 
glance  at  the  preceding  part  of  the  chapter 
confutes  this  interpretation.  Whoever  he 
may  be  that  is  speaking  in  it,  he  says  in 
one  place,  "  I  would  do  good  ;"  in  another, 
"  I  delight  in  the  law  of  God  ;"  and  surely 
these  are  expressions  which  never  yet 
came  with  truth  from  unhallowed  lips,  that 
1  never  could  come  from  any  but  a  renewed 


THE  COMPLAIiNT  OF  S.VINT  PAUL. 


139 


heart.  Besides,  this  complaint  itself  marks 
the  character  of  him  who  uttered  it.  It 
designates  one  hating  sin  in  a  very  extra- 
ordinary degree,  and  striving  against  it 
with  every  power  of  his  soul ;  and  Paul 
himself  was  a  man  of  this  class.  We 
infer  therefore  that  the  apostle  is  describing 
his  own  feelings  in  this  passage,  and  con- 
.■^equently  right  feelings,  exactly  those 
feelings  which,  in  a  world  like  this,  we 
should  expect  to  find  in  a  partially  renew- 
ed mind. 

And  we  must  not  attempt  to  turn  away 
the  force  of  iiis  language  by  referring  it  to 
some  early  period  of  his  life,  or  some 
former  stage  of  his  Christian  experience. 
He  evidently  alludes  to  an  evil  that  was 
distressing  him  at  the  time  he  wrote.  It 
is  not  Saul,  the  persecutor,  who  sends  forth 
this  cry  of  wretchedness  ;  not  Saul  on  the 
ground  in  the  road  to  Damascus ;  no,  nor 
yet  Saul  listening  in  his  blindness  to  the 
teaching  of  Ananias; — it  is  Paul,  the 
servant  of  Jesus  Christ ;  Paul,  the  chosen 
and  beloved  apostle  ;  Paul,  the  champion, 
and  bulwark,  and  glory,  of  the  whole 
Ciiristian  church. 

And  he  speaks  here  not  merely  as  a 
Christian,  but  as  a  very  experienced  Chris- 
tian ;  as  one  arrived  at  a  state  of  rare 
maturity  in  grace,  a  state  in  which  sin 
appears  to  the  mind,  as  it  appears  to  the 
divine  mind,  an  intolerable  evil,  a  thing 
so  hateful,  that  the  very  remains  of  it  arc 
not  to  be  endured;  they  must  begot  rid 
of,  at  all  events  they  must  be  controlled 
and  counteracted,  or  the  heart  will  break. 

And  the  holiest  amongst  you,  brethren, 
will  be  the  most  willing  to  take  this  view 
of  the  text,  and  never  so  ready  to  look  at 
it  in  this  light,  as  in  your  holiest  hours. 
You  read  here  nothing  that  surprises  you. 
On  the  contrary,  you  deem  these  words 
some  of  the  plainest  and  most  natural  the 
Bible  contains.  If  you  must  wonder  at 
all,  you  only  wonder  that  any  moment 
should  ever  go  over  any  one  man,  in  whicli 
he  is  not  taking  them  as  iiis  own. 

We  see  then  already  one  use  that  we 
are  to  make  of  this  complaint.  It  is  laid 
before  us  as  a  touchstone  whereby  we  may 
try  the  reality  of  our  own  personal  religion, 
and  a  standard  by  w  liich  we  may  measure 
its  extent. 

II.  Our  next  sHibjoct  of  inquiry  is  the 
ground  of  it,  the  evil  it  deplores. 

This   undoubtedly  is  sin,  and  sin  apart 


from  any  punishment  the  apostle  either 
felt  on  account  of  it,  or  dreaded.  He  does 
not  cry  out  like  a  criminal  tortured  on  the 
rack  to  which  his  crimes  have  broucht 
him.  He  doos  not  say  with  Cain,  "  My 
punishment  is  greater  than  lean  bear;" 
nor  with  the  rich  man  in  the  parable,  "  I 
am  tormented  in  this  flame."  It  is  sin 
itself  that  grieves  him. 

Nor  again,  like  the  suffering  David,  is 
he  bewailing  some  enormous  transgression 
that  has  exposed  him  to  shame,  and  weak- 
ened his  trust  in  the  divine  mercy.  The 
man's  life  was  blameless.  It  was  so 
upright  and  consistent,  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
has  not  recorded  of  him,  from  the  day  of 
his  conversion  to  the  hour  of  his  death,  one 
mistake  or  crime. 

And  herein  lies  the  peculiarity  of  his 
language — he  complains  of  sin  as  sin  ;  of 
sin  that  he  knew  to  be  pardoned ;  of  sin 
too  witiiin  him  ;  of  that  which  no  eye 
saw,  but  the  workings  of  which  his  soul 
deeply  felt.  He  mourns  over  inward  cor- 
ruption,  the  loathsome  and  intolerable  in- 
iquity of  the  heart. 

"  And  did  this  exist,"  it  may  be  asked, 
"  in  the  holy  Paul  ?"  It  did,  brethren, 
and  there  is  not  a  single  heart  out  of 
heaven,  in  which  it  does  not  exist ;  there 
is  not  a  godly  heart  out  of  heaven,  in  wjiich 
it  is  not  felt.  Men  talk  of  perfection,  talk 
of  it  with  their  feet  on  this  vile  earth  and 
breathing  its  tainted  air ;  but  poor  indeed 
are  such  men's  views  of  holiness,  and  dark 
indeed  their  knowledge  of  their  God.  Their 
perfection  is  a  dream  of  ignorance.  It  is 
notliing  better  than  a  blind  man's  landscape 
or  a  deaf  man's  song. 

The  apostle  calls  this  inward  corruption 
by  various  names.  It  is  sometimes  "  the 
law  of  sin  ;"  at  other  times,  "  the  body  of 
sin;"  here  it  is  "  a  body  of  death."  He 
terms  it  "  a  body,"  to  give  us  an  idea  of 
the  mass  of  it  he  felt  within  him,  the 
strength  and  extent  of  its  influence;  and 
he  speaks  of  it  as  "  a  body  of  death,"  be- 
cause, in  its  tendency,  it  leads  to  death, 
and,  when  allowed  its  full  scope,  ends  in 
death.  He  intimates,  in  this  expression, 
what  another  apostle  plainly  asserts,  that 
"  sin,  when  it  is  finished,  bringeth  forth 
death."  We  are  reminded  by  it  of  nothing 
le.ss  than  this,  that  every  one  of  us  is 
carrying  about  in  him  that  wliich  can 
destroy  liim.  Tiicre  are  still  in  the  holiest 
heart,  the   elements,  not  of  mischief  only, 


140 


THE  COMPLAINT  OF  SAINT  PAUL. 


but  of  utter  rim,  the   seeds  of  total  and 
irretrievable  misery. 

And  though  checked,  this  evil  principle 
still  shows  its  mortal  tendency.  It  often 
paralyzes  even  the  renewed  soul.  It  chills 
within  it  that  divine  life  which  God  him- 
self has  implanted,  suspending  or  clogging 
its  operations,  and  marring  its  enjoyments. 
No  elevation  of  character  can  lift  us  above 
its  reach,  no  heavenly  wisdom  can  always 
baffle  its  assaults,  no  attainments  in  holi- 
ness can  neutralize  its  power.  The  heart 
which  has  been  chosen,  and  consecrated, 
and  long  dwelt  in,  as  the  temple  of  God  ; 
the  heart  bearing  the  image  of  Jehovah 
and  well-nigh  meet  for  his  kingdom  ;  the 
heart  warm  with  the  love  of  heaven  and 
expanding  with  a  foretaste  of  its  joys  ;  even 
such  a  heart  as  this,  an  evil  within  itself 
can  sometimes  half  wither,  and  rnake  it, 
through  many  a  mournful  hour,  in  its 
feelings,  and  affections,  and  almost  all  its 
workings,  like  the  heart  that  has  never 
once  felt  the  regenerating  hand  of  God, 
that  has  Satan  still  for  its  lord  and  his 
misery  for  its  end. 

The  operations  of  this  remaining  de- 
pravity are  manifold  and  unceasing.  We 
cannot  look  into  our  minds  without  tracing 
them. 

It  discovers  itself  in  evil  thoughts.  These 
the  Christian  hates;  he  would  bar  them 
out  from  his  soul,  yet  they  come,  and  come 
almost  every  hour,  and  come  in  crowds, 
and  never  perhaps  in  crowds  so  great,  as 
when  he  wishes  them  the  farthest  away. 
Some  of  them  undoubtedly  come  from  with- 
out ;  they  must  be  traced  to  Satan ;  but 
most  of  them  are  inborn.  They  arise 
naturally  and  spontaneously  within  us,  just 
as  noxious  weeds  spring  up  in  their  native 
climate  and  soil. 

And  then  how  many  and  strong  are  the 
evil  desires  which  spring  out  of  these  evil 
thoughts  !  Thoy  are  not  fostered  in  the 
believer's  mjnd  ;  he  abhors  them  ;  it  is  the 
business  of  his  life  to  subdue  them  and  root 
them  up  ;  but  where  is  the  man,  however 
elevated  in  spirit,  whom  they  do  not  infest  ? 
And  how  can  it  be  otherwise  ?  With  a 
void  ever  aching  within  us  ;  with  capabili- 
ties of  happiness  never  yet  satisfied  ;  sur- 
rounded, at  the  same  time,  by  objects  con- 
genial to  our  earth-born  nature,  adapted  to 
its  propensities  and  offering  to  gratify  them  ; 
with  every  sense  an  open  inlet  to  tempta- 
tion, and  every  a[)petite  and  passion  ready 


to  welcome  it ;  carrying  about  with  us  a 
hungry  soul  in  a  world  crowded  with  that 
which  looks  like  food  for  it,  while  the  real 
materials  of  its  happiness  are  at  a  distance 
from  it,  out  of  its  sight,  and,  as  feeling  often 
tells  us,  out  of  its  reach  ; — is  it  wonderful, 
brethren,  that,  in  such  a  situation,  our 
hearts  sometimes  go  wrong  ?  Is  it  won- 
derful that  the  desires  we  would  raise  up 
to  heaven,  often  cleave  to  the  dust  ?  Is  it 
not  rather  wonderful  that  we  are  able  at 
any  time  to  get  above  the  allurements  that 
surround  us,  and  more  than  this,  to  give 
the  warmest  and  strongest  of  our  longings 
to  an  unseen  God  ? 

And  think  too. of  the  evil  tempers  that 
still  assail  us — envy,  anger,  jealousy,  party- 
spirit,  and  many  more.  We  ought  long 
since  to  have  done  with  these  low  feelings, 
and  there  are  moments  when  we  are  ready 
to  think  them  clean  gone  from  us  forever, 
but,  before  we  are  aware,  they  rise  again 
into  action,  and  amaze  and  confound  us  by 
their  strength.  How  often  and  how  pain- 
fully have  some  of  us  felt  their  influence  ! 
We  have  gone  into  the  society  of  our  fellow- 
men  calm  and  cheerful,  with  the  law  of 
love  on  our  tongue  and  no  emotion  opposed 
to  it  in  our  heart ;  but  how  have  we  left  it  '• 
Humbled  and  ashamed.  Some  evil  tempei 
has  been  set  at  work,  and  destroyed  a.' 
once  every  kind  and  every  peaceful  feeling 
It  has  occasioned  a  tumult  within  us,  which 
we  have  hardly  known  how  to  conceal  o) 
bear.  We  have  returned  to  our  homes 
disgusted  with  the  world,  and  still  more 
disgusted  with  ourselves ;  ready  to  wish 
for  a  solitude  where  no  human  being  shall 
ever  again  be  found  to  excite  our  corrup- 
tions, or  be  the  spectator  of  our  weakness. 
And  what  has  caused  this  change  ?  The 
veriest  trifle  ;  a  word  or  look,  or  the  ab- 
sence of  a  word  or  look ;  a  provocation  so 
minute,  that  we  could  scarcely  define  it ;  a 
thing  so  contemptible,  that  we  despise  our- 
selves for  giving  it  a  feeling  or  a  thought. 

There  is  yet  another  way  in  wiiich  ou) 
corruption  works — it  hinders  vutch  of  thf 
good  we  aim  at ;  and  the  good  which  it  can- 
not hinder,  it  pollutes. 

When  our  hearts  begin  to  warm  with 
the  love  of  Christ,  and  new  purposes  are 
formed  of  more  entire  devotedness  to  his 
blessed  service,  it  opposes  sloth  to  feeling  ; 
it  calls  up  selfishness  to  reason  down  our 
plans  of  mercy;  it  throws  a  chill  over  the 
kindling  affections  ;  and,  instead  of  the  ca- 


THE  COMPLAINT  OF  SAINT  PAUL. 


141 


re&t  VI  zrai  and  usefulness  we  had  marked 
oui  loi  otirseivfcs,  we  once  again  lie  down 
in  tiie  lorpor  ot  a  shameful  ease. 

Ana  tncn  when  we  are  actually  at  work 
for  (jrod,  mrnfc  ot  the  unworthy  motives 
that  are  crencrallv  at  work  also.  Mow 
often  are  we  aimuiji  oniv  at  earthly  honor 
and  applause  !  and  how  more  often  still 
are  we  wishms;  to  share  with  the  Lord 
Jehovan  in  the  honor  that  is  his  alone  ! 

And  go  with  us  into  our  chamhers.  O 
the  sin  that  besets  us  there!'  We  dare  not 
cease  to  pray  ;  we  know  that  death  would 
follow  madness  like  that ;  hut  what  are 
our  prayers  ?  Many  ot  them  as  trifling 
and  heartless  as  though  the  living  God 
were  an  idol,  or  we  needed  no  longer  either 
his  help  or  his  mercy.  There  are  times 
too  when  we  cannot  pray  at  all.  Our 
bewildered  minds  refuse  their  ollice.  Our 
thoughts  wander  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
The  hour  that  we  hoped  would  be  spent  in 
communion  with  heaven,  is  passed  in  noth- 
ingness, or  in  that  which  is  worse.  "  When 
I  would  do  good,"  says  the  apostle,  "  evil 
is  present  with  me,"  and  there  is  not  a  ser- 
vant of  Christ  among  us  all,  who  does  not 
often  feel  it,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  to 
be  present  with  him. 

III.  Let  us  now  pass  on  to  a  third  point — 
the  effects  produced  on  Saint  Paul  hy  the  in- 
ward polhiiion  he  bewails. 

He  mentions  two  of  these. 

1.  //  made  him  wretched.  And  nothing 
else  could  do  this.  He  suffered  more  in 
his  Mast^'r's  cause  than  any  before  or  any 
after  hira,  and  yet  not  a  complaint  or  sigh 
could  his  sufferings  wring  from  him.  Of 
poverty  and  want,  of  toil  and  peril,  of  con- 
tempt and  persecution,  he  said,  "  None  of 
these  things  move  me ;"  nay,  he  tells  us 
that  he  actually  "  took  pleasure"  in  these 
things,  he  gloried  and  exulted  in  them,  be- 
cause they  were  laid  upon  him  for  Christ's 
sake.  But  now  look  at  this  heroic  sufferer. 
He  is  groaning  with  misery.  Sin  has  done 
what  neither  scourgings,  nor  imprison- 
ments, nor  stonings,  nor  shipwrecks,  ever 
could  do — it  has  beaten  him  down.  He 
cannot  bear  it.  The  least  remains  of  it 
are  a  burden  too  heavy  for  him  to  stand 
under ;  they  goad  him  even  to  impatience. 

The  most  obvious  sense  we  can  put  on 
his  words  carries  us  thus  far^  but  it  is  gen- 
erally  supposed  that  the  idea  of  misery  is 
conveyed  in  this  text  in  a  yet  stronger 
manner.     It  was  the  dreadful  practice,  we 


are  told,  of  some  ancient  tyrants,  to  punish 
any  unfortunate  object  of  their  displeasure 
bv  binding  to  him  the  lifeless  body  of  a 
ftl low-creature,  a  dead  carcass  to  a  living 
man  ;  and  then  compelling  him  to  bear  it 
about  with  him  to  his  constant  horror  and 
wretchedne.ss.  To  a  situation  like  this, 
Saint  Paul  is  thought,  in  this  passage,  to 
compare  his  own.  He  feels  himself,  while 
burdened  with  sin,  like  an  unhappy  captive 
carrying  about  a  loathsome  and  intolerable 
weight,  and  exclaims  in  the  anguish  of  his 
tortured  spirit,  "  O  wretched  man  that  I 
am  !  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body 
of  this  death  ?" 

And  similar  to  this  is  the  light  in  which 
every  real  believer  looks  on  sin.  He  re- 
gards it  as  a  detestable  object.  It  pains 
and  distresses  him.  Nothing  distresses 
him  like  it.  It  is  the  one  main  sorrow  of 
his  life.  Take  this  away  from  him,  and 
then  place  him  where  you  may,  and  heap 
on  him  what  you  will,  he  is  a  happy  man. 
"  How  great,  then,"  it  may  be  said,  "  is  the 
difference  between  him  and  others  !"  Breth- 
ren, it  is  great,  far  deeper  and  far  more  ex- 
tensive than  many  of  you  conceive  ;  but  in 
no  respect  is  it  so  marked  as  in  this,  in  the 
griefs  of  the  Christian,  in  the  objects  over 
which  he  most  bitterly  mourns. 

Look  around  this  congregation.  We  are 
all  more  or  less  the  children  of  sorrow: 
there  is  not  one  of  us,  who  has  not  within 
him  some  known  or  secret  cause  of  dis- 
quietude. Now  bring  a  messenger  from 
heaven,  and  let  him  ask  each  one  of  us 
what  sorrow  he  shall  take  from  us,  what 
spring  of  grief  in  our  breasts  he  shall  close, 
how  various,  could  we  speak  out,  would 
be  our  answers !  But  yet  there  are  men 
here  who  would  cry  aloud  with  one  voice 
for  one  evil  to  be  removed.  That  evil 
would  be  sin,  and  among  those  men,  how- 
ever few  in  number,  would  every  one  of 
us  be  found,  who  is  on  his  way  to  heaven. 
Would  we  really  know  whither  we  are 
going  ?  Would  we  know  without  self- 
delusion  or  mistake,  our  character  in  the 
sight  of  God  ?  Then  let  each  one  of  us 
ask  himself.  What  makes  me  most  wretch- 
ed ?  What  do  I  deem  the  greatest  afllic- 
tion  of  my  life  ?  Over  what,  during  the 
last  week,  or  month,  or  year,  have  I  most 
frequently  and  heavily  mourned  ?  Is  it 
sickness,  pain,  or  poverty  ?  Is  it  the  loss 
of  this  friend  or  that  child  ?  Is  it  my 
baffled   schemes  and    blighted    prospects? 


142 


THE  COMPLAINT  OF  SAINT  PAUL 


Is  it  mortified  vanity,  or  disappointed  hope, 
or  wounded,  or  thwarted,  or  stifled  affec- 
tion ?  Or  is  it  Saint  Paul's  great  sorrow  ? 
Is  it  the  Christian's  one  (Treat  affliction — 
sin  ?  the  sin  of  my  heart,  the  pollution  of 
my  soul  ? 

2.  And  this  sorrow  in  the  mind  of  the 
aposile,  was  not  a  mere  feeling,  a  senti- 
mental grief  which  he  took  a  pleasure  and 
almost  a  pride  in  indulging.  It  was  so 
bitter,  that  it  compelled  liim  to  look  about  for 
deliverance  from  the  evil  that  occasioned  it. 

When  he  was  unjustly  imprisoned  by 
the  magistrates  at  Philippi,  we  find  him  in 
no  haste  to  be  released  from  his  fetters. 
"  They  have  sent  to  let  you  go,"  said  the 
keeper  of  the  prison  to  him,  "  now  therefore 
depart,  and  go  in  peace."  "Nay  verily," 
answered  he,  "  they  have  beaten  us  openly 
uncondemned,  and  have  cast  us  into  prison, 
and  now  do  they  thrust  us  out  privily? 
Let  them  come  themselves  and  fetch  us 
out."  But  from  his  indwelling  corruptions, 
he  was  impatient  to  be  released.  Here 
there  is  no  waiting,  no  standing  on  form, 
no  indifference.  Like  a  wretched  prisoner 
who  is  panting  in  his  dungeon  for  the  air 
and  the  light,  he  cries  aloud,  "  O  wretched 
man  that  I  am  !  who  shall  deliver  me  1" 

It  is  evident  at  once,  that  this  effort  to 
get  free  from  sin  is  no  common  thing. 
Nothing  is  more  remote  from  the  ordinary 
workings  of  our  nature.  Even  in  cases 
where  the  pollution  of  the  heart  is  admitted 
as  a  fact  and  in  words  deplored,  it  is  not 
always  nor  generally  that  this  struggle  for 
deliverance  follows.  On  the  contrary,  a 
quite  different  effect  is  often  manifested. 
The  ungodly  man  takes  courage  in  sin 
from  the  very  consideration  of  his  sinful- 
ness. He  makes  use  of  his  corruption  as 
an  opiate  to  his  fears.  "I  am  frail,"  he 
says.  "  I  carry  about  with  me  a  weak 
and  fallen  nature.  The  God  who  will  be 
my  Judge,  knows  my  weakness,  and  will 
make  allowances  for  it.  He  will  not 
punish  severely  those  delinquencies  to 
which  such  a  nature  as  mine  must  be 
liable  ;  he  will  never  call  me  to  a  strict 
account  for  the  sins  into  which  I  am  thus 
instinctively,  and,  as  I  feel,  irresistibly 
led  !"  Poor,  miserable  sophistry  !  but  not 
too  miserable  to  be  heard  and  echoed  every 
day  in  this  foolish  world.  It  finds  an  ex- 
cuse for  guilt  in  the  magnitude  of  guilt.  It 
pleads  the  baseness  of  the  heart  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  the  criminality  of  the  life.    "  There 


is  poison  in  the  fountain,"  it  says.  "  If  I 
did  not  put  it  there,  I  will  foster  it  there. 
None  of  it  shall  be  taken  away.  And  then 
who  can  lay  to  my  charge  the  poison  in 
the  streams  ?" 

And  take  another  man,  or  take  any  man 
whom  God  the  Holy  Ghost  has  not  renewed. 
Tell  him,  brethren,  that  you  will  remove 
from  him  all  that  is  evil  ;  that  you  will  de- 
prive him  of  every  pursuit,  and  amusement, 
and  feeling,  which  has  what  the  Bible  calls 
sin  mixed  up  with  it ;  that  you  will  leave 
him  going  about  the  world  pure  as  an  an- 
gel. Does  he  thank  you  ?  No.  He  feels 
that  you  are  threatening  to  rob  him.  There 
is  not  a  thought  of  happiness  within  him, 
there  is  not  a  pleasure  he  enjoys  or  hopes 
for,  there  is  not  a  vision  of  delight  he  cher- 
ishes, which  sin  does  not  gild  and  brighten  ; 
not  one  which  can  be  separated  from  sin 
without  being  marred.  He  has  a  depraved 
nature,  and  in  nothing  but  tliat  which  is 
congenial  to  his  nature,  which  has  more  or 
less  of  depravity  mingled  with  it,  can  he 
delight. 

But  turn  to  the  man  of  God.  He  has  a 
new  nature,  and  this  new  nature  is  like 
the  Being  from  whom  it  comes,  holy,  and 
heavenly,  and  divine.  It  consequently  de- 
lights in  things  assimilated  to  itself,  in  holy 
things.  And  in  proportion  as  it  delights  in 
these,  it  finds  sin  opposed  to  its  happiness. 
Sin  is  unsuited  to  its  taste ;  it  stands  in  the 
way  of  its  operations  and  gratifications ;  it 
fetters,  and  depresses,  and  pains  it.  The 
consequence  is,  the  soul  most  anxiously 
wishes  to  have  done  with  the  accursed 
thing ;  and  this  wish  gradually  gains  such 
strength,  that  it  becomes  at  last  one  of  its 
most  constant  and  powetlul  feelings.  It 
sighs  for  freedom,  as  it  never  sighed  for 
any  thing  else.  It  longs  for  deliverance 
from  sin  as  much  as  from  hell  itself  In 
its  estimation,  sin  is  hell,  and  wherever  sin 
is,  "  There,"  it  says,  "  are  all  the  elements 
of  all  misery."  Open  wide  the  door  of 
heaven  to  a  man  of  tliis  stamp,  tell  him  that 
he  may  be  admitted  into  its  regions  of  glory 
with  all  his  evil  desires  and  passions  rag- 
ing within  him,  could  you  silence,  brethren, 
that  man's  cry  ?  could  you  stop  that  man's 
prayer  for  deliverance  ?  Not  for  one  mo- 
ment. He  would  still  exclaim,  "O  wretch- 
ed man  that  I  am  !"  He  would  still  ask, 
"  Who  shall  deliver  me  ?"  His  language 
would  still  be,  "  When  shall  this  despe- 
rately  wicked  heart  be  cleansed  1     When 


THE  COMPLAINT  OF  SAINT  PAUL. 


143 


shall  these  vile  corruptions  cease  to  vex 
me  '?  How  long  must  I  bear  this  loathsome, 
intolerable  burden?  I  am  in  a  holy  world, 
but  O  for  some  world  that  will  make  me 
holy  !  Tiiis  bright  heaven  serves  only  to 
show  me  more  of  my  dark  pollution,  and 
to  aggravate  my  misery.  O  that  I  had 
wings  like  a  dove,  for  then  would  I  flee 
away,  flee  away  to  any  world  or  any  scene 
where  I  migiit  escape  from  my  hated  lusts, 
where  I  might  find  holiness,  and  be  at 
rest !" 

From  this  strong  desire  after  holiness, 
arises  much  of  that  peculiarity  of  character 
which  marks  the  Christian.  It  separates 
him  from  the  world  ; — it  must  separate  him 
from  it,  for  it  is  an  evil  world.  It  makes 
him  a  man  of  self-denial,  watchfulness,  and 
prayer.  His  religion  ceases  to  be  a  round 
of  forms,  or  a  set  of  opinions,  or  a  code  of 
decencies  ;  it  takes  the  character  of  a  war- 
fare. There  is  an  unceasing  conflict  kept 
up  within  him  between  his  propensities  and 
his  duties,  between  sin  and  grace  ;  more 
than  a  desire  for  victory  over  his  lusts, 
more  than  a  stinging  and  struggling  of  his 
conscience  after  the  indulgence  of  them ; 
there  is  a  prevailing  effort  to  be  holy ; 
there  is  a  daily  "  keeping  under  of  the 
body,"  a  daily  "crucifixion  of  the  flesh,"  a 
daily  "  walking  in  the  Spirit."  And  this 
goes  on  to  the  man's  dying  hour.  It  ends 
only  with  his  life. 

Brethren,  what  know  we  of  this  spiritual 
conflict  ?  Has  it  ever  been  begun  in  us  ? 
Is  it  tjoing  on  now  ? 

We  have  thus  far  followed  the  apostle  ; 
anrl  if  we  have  not  misinterpreted  his  words. 
It  is  clear  from  them,  that  Ihcre  is  snmeiliing 
in  fhennfiire  of  sin  inconccirahhj  dreadful. 

I  allude  not  to  the  hold  it  has  on  the 
human  mind,  the  firmness  with  which  it 
strikes  its  roots  into  it,  and  the  resistance 
it  offers  to  every  attempt  to  dislodge  it, 
though,  in  this  view,  we  can  hardly  con- 
template it  without  a  shudder  :  I  refer  to 
the  power  it  possesses  of  inflicting  misery. 
Weakened,  counteracted,  subdued,  it  yet 
threw  the  holy  Paul  into  an  agony,  it  made 
him  groan  with  wretchedness.  And  it  did 
this  while  he  was  abounding  in  faith  and 
hope,  and  on  his  way  to  heaven.  What 
tlien  will  it  do  with  some  of  us?  If  thus 
powerful  and  tormenting  in  its  weakness, 
wliat  must  it  be  in  its  strength  ?  If  thus 
dreadful  while  in  a  holy  heart  in  a  world 
of  mercy,  O  what  unutterable  anguish  will 


it  inflict  on  every  other  heart  in  its  own 
world,  a  world  of  wrath  ?  God  will  leave 
it  alone  there.  It  will  have  the  mastery 
over  the  whole  soul,  with  nothing  to  resist 
its  power,  or  tolerate  its  misery,  or  put  an 
end  to  its  existence.  We  trcmi)le  at  the 
thought  of  the  "devouring  fire,"  we  shud- 
der at  the  never-dying  worm  ;  that  worm 
is  sin,  that  fire  is  the  love  of  sin,  matured, 
triumphant,  free. 

We  learn  also  here,  that  the  salvation  of  a 
sinner  is  an  act  of  pure  goodness. 

Throughout  this  epistle.  Saint  Paul  has 
been  laboring  to  establish  this  point.  He 
has  shown  that  the  righteousness  which 
justifies,  must  be  a  perfect  righteousness, 
and  that  man  having  no  such  righteousness 
to  plead,  must  be  justified  altogetiier  by 
grace,  or  not  at  all.  And  now  comes  a 
most  convincing  close  to  his  reasoning. 
He  brings  himself  before  us,  and  lays  him- 
self bare.  And  what  do  we  see  in  him  ? 
A  warfare  that  almost  breaks  his  heart; 
sin  not  only  tempting  him  from  without, 
but  dwelling  in  him,  adhering  to  his  inmost 
soul.  A  perfect  righteousness  ?  O  no  ! — 
an  evil  that  he  deplores  as  he  deplores 
nothing  else.  And  when  he  begins  to 
praise,  for  what  do'we  hear  him  bless  God  ? 
As  a  sinner  for  a  Saviour.  He  finds  in 
Christ  Jesus  his  only  solace  and  joy. 
Brethren,  if  at  the  close  of  an  eventful 
life,  after  all  his  faithful  labors,  and  painful 
sacrifices,  and  splendid  services,  this  apos- 
tie  could  find  no  hope  of  salvation,  no  rest 
for  his  soul,  but  in  the  free  grace  of  a  par- 
doning  God,  of  what  possible  avail  can  our 
fancied  righteousness  prove  to  any  of  us  ? 
This  text  blasts  at  once  all  the  expectations 
we  have  grounded  on  it,  all  our  lofty  hopes. 
It  tears  them  up  by  the  roots,  and  as  we 
■strive  to  throw  them  from  us,  it  makes  us 
ashamed  of  the  folly  that  ever  cherished 
them. 

We  infer  again,  that  the  life  of  a  Chris- 
tian mvst  necessarily  be  n  checkered  life. 

Some  of  us  perhaps  look  on  it,  so  far  at 
least  as  religion  influences  it,  as  a  life  of 
unbroken  sorrow;  others  regard  it  as  one 
unvarying  scene  of  peace  and  joy.  It  is 
neither.  Our  mistakes  arise  from  our  tak- 
ing a  partial  view  of  it,  or  rather  from  our 
inability  to  comprehend  the  mysterious 
way  in  which  its  joys  and  its  sorrows,  its 
complaints  and  its  songs,  are  blended  with 
each  other.  They  appear  inconsistent. 
Nothing  but  a  heart-felt  experience  of  the 


144 


THE  FINAL  GLORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


power  of  godliness  can  cause  them  to  ap- 
pear otherwise.  But  look  at  this  apostle. 
He  minyles  together,  we  see,  his  sorrows 
and  his  joys.  One  moment  he  cries,  "  O 
wretched  man  that  I  am  !"  the  next,  he 
breaks  off  from  the  language  of  bewailing, 
and  gives  utterance  to  feelings  of  a  directly 
opposite  character ;  "  I  thank  God,"  he 
says,  "  through  .lesus  Christ  our  Lord." 
He  complains  of  himself,  and  he  rejoices  in 
Christ,  almost  at  the  same  instant.  He  is 
comforted  in  the  very  midst  of  his  wretch- 
edness. Nay,  in  one  sense,  he  owes  his 
comfort  to  his  wretchedness.  It  sends  him 
to  his  God.  It  brings  him  near  that  blessed 
Comforter,  in  whom  is  treasured  up  a  suit- 
able, and  ready,  and  full  relief  for  all  his 
sorrows.  Look  on  him  as  he  stands  alone, 
he  is  "of  all  men  the  most  miserable;" 
view  him  as  leaning  on  his  beloved  Lord, 
and  there  is  not  a  being  out  of  heaven  so 
happy.  "  Sorrowful  yet  always  rejoicing, 
having  nothing  and  yet  possessing  all 
things,"  his  whole  life  is  a  glorious  para- 
dox. May  the  living  God  give  us  that 
fellowship  with  him,  which  only  can  ex- 
plain it! 

We  may  draw  yet  one  inference  more — 
the  true  Christian  musU  he  a  thankful  man. 
Be  his  life  what  it  may,  peaceful  or  trou- 
bled, it  will  be  a  life  of  praise. 

We  have  seen  that  sin  is  the  greatest 
affliction  he  knows.  In  his  best  moments, 
he  deems  it  almost  his  only  aflliction.  Now 
he  finds  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  a  Saviour 
from  this  overwhelming  evil ;  one  who  has 
purchased  for  him,  who  secures  to  him, 
nay,  who  has  already  in  part  given  him, 
precisely  that  deliverance  for  which  his 
soul  longs.  And  what  are  his  feelings  as 
a  conviction  of  this  fact  enters  his  mird  ? 
They  arc,  they  must  be,  feelings  of  grati- 
tude and  love.  If  he  does  not  pass  through 
the  world  to  heaven  with  a  never-failing 
song  on  his  lips,  he  cannot  always  move 
along  it  in  silence.  "  I  thank  God,"  he 
says,  and  says  it  often,  and  says  it  joyfully, 
"  I  thank  God,  through  Jesus  Christ  my 
Lord.  He  has  given  me  deliverance.  Sin 
lives  in  me  still,  but  he  does  not  suffer  it  to 
reign.  I  was  once  its  slave.  It  had  tied 
and  bound  me  in  its  filthy  chains,  and  1 
could  not  break  tliem.  I  did  not  wish  to 
break  them.  It  had  perverted  my  affections, 
as  well  as  enslaved  my  powers.  1  was  its 
willing  captive.  But  now,  blessed  be  God  ! 
though  it  torments  me  by  day  arvd  vexes 


me  by  night  ;  though  it  often  embitters  my 
existence,  and  makes  my  soul  ache  for  my 
dying  hour;  though  at  times  it  leads  me 
captive,  and  causes  me  to  despise  and 
loathe  myself,  filling  me  with  unutterable 
emotions  of  self-abhorrence  and  disgust; 
yet  it  has  not  dominion  over  me.  Its  power 
is  broken.  I  feel  it  broken.  I  look  up- 
ward, and,  in  my  Saviour's  strength,  I 
can  and  I  do  resist  and  overcome  it.  As 
for  its  condemning  power,  it  cannot  harm 
me.  There  is  no  condemnation  to  them  that 
are  in  Christ  Jesus.  His  precious  blood  is 
more  able  to  save,  than  the  heaviest  guilt  to 
destroy.  I  know  whom  I  have  believed. 
Sin  will  still  pollute,  but  he  will  not  suffer 
it  to  ruin  me.  It  may  keep  me  wretched 
for  a  few  short  years,  but  I  am  safe  forever. 
At  the  grave  my  conflict  will  be  ended. 
There  my  enemy  must  leave  me.  I  shall 
wake  up  without  a  stain  or  a  sorrow,  in  my 
Redeemer's  glory  and  in  Jehovah's  like- 
ness. O  with  what  inconceivable  joy  shall 
I  exclaim  in  that  hour  of  wonder,  I  thank 
God  throu<rh  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  !" 


SERMON    XXVII. 


THE  FINAL  GLORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 

Ephesians  v.  25,  26,  27. 

Christ  also  loved  the  church,  and  gave  himself  for 
it;  that  he  might  sanctify  and  cleanse  it  iciih 
the  7oashing  of  wafer  by  the  word;  that  he 
might  inesent  it  to  himself  a  glorious  church, 
not  having  spot,  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing, 
but  that  it  should  be  holy  and  without  blemish. 

There  was  a  wonderful  elevation  in  St. 
Paul's  mind.  Whatever  occupied  it,  it 
seems  to  have  been  always  pointing  up- 
ward, prepared  to  pscend  in  a  moment  to 
liigli  and  lieavcnly  things. 

We  have  one  of  its  rapid  soarings  in  this 
text.  The  apostle  is  inculcating  what  we 
should  call  a  j)lain,  common-place  duty,  the 
love  which  a  husband  ought  to  bear  tow- 
ards his  wife.  And  how  does  he  enforce 
it  ?  By  arguments  on  a  level  with  the  du- 
ty itself?  By  considerations  drawn  from 
its  reasonableness  and  utility  ?  No.  He 
ascends  at  once  into  a  higher  region.  He 
thinks  of  the  great  Husband  of  the  church, 
and  without  absolutely  forgetting  the  point 


THE  FINAL  GLOK      OF  THE  CHURCH. 


145 


hp  is  urpirifj,  he  speaks  of  his  love  for  his 
unworthy  bride,  as  thoiiijli  lie  had  no  other 
ol)ject  in  view  than  to  disphiy  and  adore  it. 
Our  souls  are  in  a  blessed  state,  brethren, 
when  Christ  thus  dwells  in  the  lieart,  wlien 
he  is  thus  uppermost  in  the  affections  and 
thoujihts,  when  every  thing  else  is  half  lost 
siirht  of  in  the  sweet  remenibranee  of  him. 

The  suliject  we  have  to  consider  is  the 
final  .state  of  the  church,  viewed  in  coimec- 
tion  with  the  causes  to  which  it  is  ascribed, 
and  the  great  end  for  which  .so  glorious  a 
change  in  its  condition  is  etFected. 

I.  In  describing  the  future  condition  of 
the  church,  the  a])ostle  has  evidently  in  his 
mind  two  previous  states  of  it — its  original 
state  when  lying  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins,  and  its  sulxsequent  earthly  state,  when 
separated  from  the  mass  of  the  ungodly  and 
partially  redeemed.  It  follows  then  that 
we  have  it  before  us  in  tliree  distinct  points 
of  view  ;  fir.st,  as  wholly  defiled,  then  as  in 
some  measure  clean.sed,  and  then  as  alto- 
gether pure.  x\nd  this  view  of  the  passage 
will  serve  as  a  key  to  the  right  understand- 
ing of  it. 

It  speaks,  first,  of"  sanctifying  and  clean- 
sing" the  cliurch  ;  and  here,  in  these  terms, 
it  intimates  the  original  defilement  of  the 
church.  It  l)rings  man  before  us  in  his 
natural  condition,  the  condition  in  which 
Christ  finds  every  one  whom,  in  his  saving 
mercy,  he  finds  at  all.  This  is  an  unsanc- 
tified,  polluted  condition.  The  .stain  of  sin 
is  on  the  soul.  It  is  unfit  for  its  Creator's 
use  ;  it  is  not  meet  for  his  presence.  It  is 
worse  than  guilty,  and  hcl})less,  and  wretch- 
ed ;  it  is  odious  and  loath.some. 

This  state  however  is  represented  as  al- 
tered ;  but  at  first  not  entirely  so ;  for 
though  sanctified,  we  read  of  spots  still  left 
on  the  church.  And  thus  comes  out  its 
preeent  mixed,  imperfect  condition.  It  is 
not  what  it  once  was;  for  spots  presuppo.se 
a  general  purity  and  brightness  of  charac- 
ter ;  they  are  the  partial  disfigurements  of 
an  otherwise  clean  thing.  A  change  there- 
fore, ami  a  great  change,  nm.st  have  pa.ssed 
on  the  people  referred  to,  Ijcfore  a  term  like 
this  could  be  applied  to  them.  Neither  is 
their  state  what  it  is  ultimately  intended  to 
be.  There  is  .something  on  the  church  yet 
to  be  I'emoved,  and  enough  to  mar  its  hap- 
piness and  tarnish  its  glory.  It  is  a  church 
rising  up  out  of  the  polluting  dust,  emerg- 
ing from  the  contamination  it  once  loved  ; 
not  holy  yet,  but  beginning  to  discover  the 
19 


I  excellence  and  beauty  of  holiness  ;  panting 
for  it ;  hating,  and  loathing,  and  trying  to 
throw  off,  "  the  garments  .spotted  by  the 
ilcsh,"  and  longing  to  array  itself  in  the 
white  ^robes  of  heaven.  It  is  echoing  the 
language  of  Saint  Paul,  "  O  wretched  man 
that  I  am  !"  It  is  asking  with  him,  "  Who 
shall  deliver  ?" 

And  now  at  last  we  are  come  to  its  third 
and  final  slate.  The  view^  which  tiie  apos- 
tle takes  of  this,  may  appear  to  some  of  us 
but  little  attractive.  It  may  seem  to  be 
nothing,  to  say  of  heaven,  The  .soul  is  with- 
out sin,  without  spot  or  blemish,  there. 
But  the  man  who  has  once  felt  the  misery 
of  a  polluted  nature,  will  think  difiercntly. 
lie  will  feel  as  he  reads  this  text,  "  Here 
i  is  the  blessing  my  heart  aches  for.  This 
is  the  heaven  in  which  I  long  to  be — a  holy 
world  ;  a  world  where  I  can  be  tempted  no 
more  and  sin  no  more  ;  where  I  can  breathe 
an  atmosphere  that  is  not  tainted,  and 
breathe  it  without  ever  tainting  it ;  where 
I  may  rest  from  the  confiict  that  now  wea- 
ries my  inmost  soul,  cast  aw^ay  all  watch- 
fulness and  fear,  give  the  desires  of  my 
heart  their  widest  and  fondest  range,  and 
yet  never  wound  my  spirit  nor  offend  my 
God  ?" 

How  highly  Saint  Paul  himself  estimated 
this  heavenly  purity,  we  may  infer  from 
his  dwelling  so  much  on  the  idea  of  it  in 
this  place.  He  mentions  it,  and  then  he 
repeats  the  mention  of  it,  and  then,  not  sat- 
isfied, he  repeats  it  again  ;  heaping  up 
words  as  though  he  found  words  too  poor 
to  describe  it,  too  weak  to  come  up  even  to 
his  conceptions  of  its  blessedness.  The 
church  is  first  "  sanctified  and  cleansed  ;" 
then  it  is  "  without  spot,  or  wrinkle,  or  any 
such  thing  ;"  and  at  last  it  is  "  holy  and 
without  blemish." 

All  these  expressions  convey  nearly  the 
same  meaning.  "  Spots"  impair  the  moral 
beauty  of  the  church  ; — they  consequently 
shall  be  cleansed  away.  "  Wrinkles"  are 
signs  of  decay,  and  feebleness,  and  suffer- 
ing ; — not  one  of  them  shall  be  left.  The 
soul  shall  wake  up  in  immortal  youtli ;  vig- 
orous as  well  as  [)ure  ;  with  every  jjower 
in  full  activity,  able  to  execute  the  com- 
mands  of  Jehovah  and  to  enter  into  his  joy. 
"  Hlemishes"  are  defects.  In  our  present 
state  we  are  wanting  in  every  thing.  In 
heaven  every  defect  shall  be  su|)plied ; 
nothing  shall  be  wanting  in  us,  which  can 
bring  glory  to  our  Redeemer  or  happiness 


146 


THE  FINAL  GLORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


to  ourselves.  Taken  together,  the  words 
convey  this  idea,  that  the  church,  in  its 
future  state,  shall  be  free  from  sin  and  from 
all  the  consequences  of  sin.  No  remnant, 
or  effect,  or  stain,  or  trace,  of  the  accursed 
thing  shall  be  left  on  it.  It  shall  be  as 
pure  as  though  sin  had  never  come  near  it ; 
still  indeed  bearing  the  marks  of  the  pro- 
cess it  has  undergone,  still  testifying  to  a 
wondering  universe  of  saving  mercy  and 
renewing  grace,  but  showing  forth  these 
operations  of  its  God,  not  by  the  incom- 
pleteness of  his  work,  but  by  the  elevation 
to  which  he  has  raised  it,  the  depth  of  its 
humility,  and  the  fervor  of  its  songs. 

But  there  are  different  standards  of  pu- 
rity, and  some  of  us  may  be  ready  to  ask, 
"  According  to  what  standard  is  the  future 
holiness  of  the  redeemed  to  be  measured  ? 
In  whose  estimation  will  it  be  complete  ?" 
O  the  riches  of  Jehovah's  goodness,  and  O 
the  power  of  Jehovah's  Spirit ! — it  will  be 
complete  in  his  estimation,  in  whose  sight 
his  own  "lieavens  are  not  clean."  To  be 
sinless  in  our  own  estimation  would  be  noth- 
ing ;  to  be  deemed  pure  by  our  fellow-sin- 
ners would  be  little  more  than  nothing ;  to 
stand  spotless  in  the  sight  of  angels  might 
satisfy  an  angel ;  but  the  purity  of  the  ran- 
somed spirit  will  soar  above  all  this.  It 
will  be  faultless  in  his  presence.,  who  sees 
things  as  they  are,  "  to  whom  all  hearts  are 
open,  and  from  whom  no  secrets  are  hid  ;" 
and  faultless,  not  when  viewed  by  him  at 
a  distance;  but  when  brought  into  his  im- 
mediate presence,  placed  as  it  were  in  com- 
parison with  him,,  in  the  full  blaze  of  his 
glory.  Is  this  language  too  strong  ?  The 
Holy  Spirit  has  employed  language  like  it. 
"  Now  unto  him,"  says  Saint  Jude,  "  that 
is  able  to  keep  you  from  falling,  and  to  pre- 
sent you  faultless" — where  ?  "  before  the 
presence  of  his  glory ;  to  the  only  wise 
God,  our  Saviour,  be  glory  and  majesty." 

And  how  will  this  amazing  change  in 
the  soul  be  eifected  ?  The  apostletells 
us. 

II.  He  points  out  the  causes  to  tohich  it 
is  to  be  ascribed.  Of  these  he  mentions 
four. 

1.  The  first  is  the  love  of  Christ.  "  He 
loved  the  church." 

And  something  of  this  nature  seems  to 
ha.ve  been  necessary  for  the  accomplishing 
of  so  great  a  work.  Mercy,  kindness, 
compassion,  might  all  have  been  inadequate 
o  the  end.     They  might  have  failed,  been 


exhausted  and  worn  out,  long  before  it  waa 
accomplished,  had  not  some  stronger  prin- 
ciple been  at  the  root  of  them,  and  kept 
them  in  exercise.  "  By  grace  are  ye 
saved,"  says  Saint  Paul,  but  it  is  a  grace 
which  had  its  origin  in  love,  and  still  finds 
in  love  its  spring,  its  life  and  freshness,  it 
is,  in  fact,  love  itself  under  another  name  ; 
love  putting  on  the  form  of  grace,  that  it 
may  pour  blessings  on  the  guilty  in  the 
only  way  in  wliich  it  can  bless  them,  with 
the  freeness  and  authority  that  become  the 
Monarch  of  the  skies. 

And  is  not  this  an  almost  overwhelming 
thought  ?  I  can  easily  conceive  of  myself 
as  an  object  of  compassion  in  heaven ;  an 
immortal  being  in  a  condition  so  deplorable 
as  mine,  might  well  excite  that  feeling  any- 
where ;  but  to  be  an  object  of  love  to  my 
holy  Saviour  in  my  present  state  of  vile- 
ness,  nay,  to  have  been  that  in  my  original 
pollution,  before  once  his  Spirit  touched  me, 
with  every  imagination  of  my  heart  only 
evil,  and  every  feeling  of  my  soul  towards 
my  God  a  feeling  of  rebellion — I  strive  in 
vain  to  comprehend  such  love.  And  so  did 
Paul.  With  his  lofty  mind,  he  could  not 
grasp  it ;  he  was  constrained  to  say,  "  It 
passeth  knowledge." 

But  look  at  this  love  in  its  effects. 

2.  And  the  first  glance  we  give  it  in  this 
view,  discovers  to  us  another  step  towards 
our  final  purity — the  sacrifice  of  Christ. 

Earthly  love  w^U  seldom  bear  examina- 
tion. It  is  either  weak,  willing  to  do  little 
or  nothing  for  its  object,  or  it  is  a  blind, 
reckless,  absorbing  passion  ;  laying  reason  . 
prostrate,  confounding  right  and  wrong, 
and  trampling  alike  on  every  liuman  and 
sacred  obligation.  But  A\"as  the  love  of 
Christ  weak  ?  It  did  all  tliat  love  ever 
could  do — "  he  gave  himself  for  us."  Was 
it  destructive  of  his  moral  excellence,  or 
heedless  of  Jehovah's  law  ?  The  same  an- 
swer may  be  returned  again,  for  it  meets 
the  question — "  he  gave  himself  for  us." 
He  might  have  gratified  his  love  for  us  at 
once  ;  a  word  from  his  lij)s  would  have 
placed  us  before  him  pure  and  happy,  with- 
out involving  on  his  part  any  eartlily  degra- 
dation, or  pain,  or  sacrifice  ;  but  the  honor 
of  liis  character  as  the  world's  great  Gov- 
ernor, the  welfare  of  the  creatures  over 
whom  he  ruled,  both  said,  "  This  must  not 
be.  Sin  must  be  expiated.  Before  the 
simier  can  be  blessed,  ofiendcd  justice  must 
be  appeased,  a  broken  law  must  be  magni- 


THE  FINAL  GLORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


147 


fied."  And  the  result  was,  love  and  rio;ht- 
eoiisness,  mercy  and  justice,  triuniplied  to- 
gether. Christ  put  liimself  in  the  sinner's 
sjtead,  came  fortii  in  our  form,  the  Repre- 
sentative of  his  guilty  church,  took  all  its 
transgressions  on  his  head  ;  and  then  stoop- 
ing down  to  the  obligations  and  enduring 
the  penalties  of  his  own  law,  he  did  what 
none  other  ever  could  have  done,  he  opened 
a  way  by  whicli.  without  impairing  his  au- 
thority, grace  could  come  down  from  heaven 
on  man,  and  man  go  up  to  heaven  redeem- 
ed and  purified,  as  welcome  and  happy  as 
ihe  happiest  dweller  there.  Not  that  his 
cross  of  itself  sanctifies.  This  work  is  as- 
cribed to  it,  because  it  supplies  the  strong- 
est motives  to  sanctification,  and  because, 
in  conjunction  with  his  obedience,  it  pur- 
chased for  sinners  that  heavenly  grace 
which  makes  these  motives  effectual. 

3.  Hence  the  apostle  goes  on  to  bring 
before  us  the  Holy  Spirit  as  a  third  source 
to  which  the  church  must  ascribe  its  future 
holiness.  He  does  not  indeed  expressly 
mention  him,  but  when  he  speaks  of  our 
being  cleansed  by  "  the  washing  of  water," 
he  evidently  has  him  in  his  mind.  If  we 
say  that  he  means  baptism,  we  say  the 
same  thing  in  other  words  ;  for  what  is 
baptism  ?  If  any  thing  more  than  a  mere 
ceremony,  it  is  an  outward,  visible  sign  of 
an  inward  and  spiritual  operation.  And 
what  is  this  operation  1  It  is  the  purifying 
of  the  heart  by  the  power  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  It  is  the  carrying  into  effect  Christ's 
purposes  of  love  towards  us  by  Christ's 
own  Spirit.  It  is  the  sanctifying  of  man, 
setting  him  apart  for  God,  and  making  him 
meet  for  his  enjoyment  and  service.  Let 
the  apostle  explain  himself.  "  Af\er  that," 
he  says  in  his  epistle  to  Titus,  "  the  kind- 
ness and  love  of  God  our  Saviour  toward 
man  appeared  ;  not  by  works  of  righteous- 
ness which  we  have  done,  but  according  to 
his  mercy  he  saved  us,  by  the  washing  of 
regeneration  and  renewing  of  the  Holy 
Ghost." 

4.  And  how  does  the  Holy  Spirit  carry 
on  this  cleansing  process  ?  The  text  shows 
us,  and  its  answer  to  the  question  reminds 
us  of  the  fourth  means  of  our  sanctification 
— the  tcord  of  God.  "  The  washing  of 
water"  is  "  by  the  word." 

This  is  the  uniform  testimony  of  scrip- 
ture. "  Ye  are  clean,"  says  Christ  to  his 
disciples,  "  through  the  word  which  I  have 
spoken  unto  you ."  "  Sanctify  them  through 


thy  truth,"  he  says  again  to  his  Father; 
•'  thy  word  is  truth." 

We  do  not  say  that  the  \\ord  is  the  only 
instrument  employed  by  the  Spirit.  He 
employs  many  instruments — mercies,  and 
comforts,  and  disappointments,  and  conflicts, 
and  a  whole  train  of  bitter  sorrows.  All 
tiiat  happens  to  us,  and  all  that  surrounds  us, 
he  can  bring  to  bear  on  our  souls,  and  turn 
into  a  furnace  to  refine  us.  But  when  he 
uses  these,  it  is  to  explain,  and  confirm,  and 
enforce,  the  declarations  of  his  holy  scrip- 
tures ;  to  recall  them  to  our  memories  ;  to 
make  us  feel  their  power.  Providence,  in 
his  hands,  becomes  a  practical  commentary 
on  his  word. 

What  then  is  the  Bible,  brethren  ?  and 
what  are  the  sermons  we  hear  from  sabbath 
to  sabbath  ?  They  are  mentioned  here  in 
connection  with  the  love  of  Christ,  the  sac- 
rifice of  Christ,  the  Spirit  of  Christ.  The 
purification,  and  consequently  the  salvation 
of  our  immortal  souls,  is  as  much  ascribed 
to  them  as  to  any  of  these  lofty  things. 
And  yet  how  completely  powerless  do  we 
often  find  them  !  There  are  times  when 
they  can  no  more  raise  an  emotion  in  our 
souls  than  in  the  stones  we  tread  on.  All 
their  efiicacy  comes  from  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Without  him  the  Bible  is  a  bock,  and  no- 
thing more  than  a  book.  It  does  not  work  ; 
it  is  a  dead  letter.  But  put  that  feeble 
book  into  the  Spirit's  hand,  and  what  is  it 
become  ?  None  but  those  who  have  expe- 
rienced its  power  can  tell .  It  is  the  sword 
of  the  Spirit ;  it  is  the  rod  of  Jehovah's 
strength ;  it  is  the  instrument  by  which 
the  soul  is  mastered  and  subdued  ;  emp- 
tied  of  its  folly,  and  self-sufficiency,  and 
iniquity,  and  wretchedness  ;  and  filled  with 
the  humility,  the  holiness,  the  blessedness, 
of  heaven.  I  cannot  then  be  a  holy  man, 
and  remain  ignorant  of  the  power  of  God's 
word.  It  must  have  reached  my  heart, 
and  I  must  have  discovered  its  value  and 
excellence.  I  must  hold  it  in  the  very 
highest  estimation.  I  must  read  it  too  with 
relish  and  delight.  If  it  is  leading  me  to 
heaven,  its  testimonies  are  my  counsellors, 
and  its  "  statutes  my  songs  in  the  house  of 
my  pilgrimage." 

We  have  now  a  complete  view  of  the 
several  steps  in  the  working  out  of  the'glo- 
rious  change  we  are  considering.  If  Ave 
inquire  for  its  commencement,  we  find  it  in 
the  love  of  Christ ;  in  the  desire  of  effecting 
this  change  existing  in  the  divine  mind, 


lis 


THE  FINAL  GLORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


and  owing  its  existence  there  to  the  benevo- 
lence of  that  mind.  The  next  step  shows 
us  this  love  of  Christ  in  exercise  ;  removing 
out  of  its  way  the  obstacles  which  inter- 
posed between  it  and  the  sinner ; — here 
comes  in  the  Redeemer's  sacrifice  ;  "  he 
gave  himself  for  us."  And  now  we  be- 
hold it  in  contact  with  the  sinner ; — the 
Holy  Spirit  reaching  and  purifying  him  by 
his  grace,  like  the  washing  of  water.  And 
the  instrument  the  Spirit  employs  in  this 
process,  is  the  word  of  God. 

III.  We  have  to  go  on  now  to  our  last 
point — the  great  end  for  which  all  these 
means  of  holiness  are  brought  into  operation. 

It  is,  we  are  told,  to  "  sanctify  and 
cleanse"  the  church.  But  why  is  the 
church  to  be  thus  sanctified  ?  What  is 
the  object  aimed  at  in  this  cleansing  ?  All 
terminates  in  this  one  blessed  end,  that 
Christ,  in  the  great  day  of  his  triumph, 
may  "  present  the  church  unto  himself  a 
glorious  church." 

However  far  the  apostle  may  seem  to 
have  been  led  away,  in  this  passage,  from 
the  subject  he  introduces  it  to  illustrate, 
there  is  no  doubt  but  that  he  still  keeps  that 
subject  in  mind.  These  expressions  have 
a  remote  allusion  to  it.  They  refer  to  a 
custom  which  prevails  in  the  eastern  coun- 
tries of  pre^senting  an  espoused  virgin  to 
her  betrothed  husband  at  the  celebration  of 
the  marriage  ceremony.  The  church  is 
often  referred  to  as  the  bride  of  the  Re- 
deemer. In  this  character,  Saint  Paul 
speaks  of"  espousing  her  to  one  husband," 
and  "  presenting  her  as  a  chaste  virgin  to 
Christ."  But  here  there  is  a  peculiarity 
in  the  language  he  uses.  The  office  of 
presenting  the  bride  belongs  properly  to 
l»er  parents  or  friends  ;  but  what  parent  or 
■  friend  has  the  lost  church  ?  Like  the  ob- 
ject of  mercy  spoken  of  by  Ezekiel,  and 
evidently  intended  to  be  an  emblem  of  her, 
she  is  cast  out  friendless  and  forlorn,  with- 
out an  eye  to  pity  or  a  hand  to  help  her. 
In  this  state  of  destitution,  the  Bridegroom 
looks  round  for  no  father  fir  her,  no  friend. 
He  presents  her  to  himself.  lie  takes  her 
in  all  hor  abject  misery,  as  the  beloved  of 
his  soul,  and  he  loves  her  and  delights  in 
her  the  more,  because  no  hand  save  his 
own  has  rescued  her,  because  she  owes  all 
her  greatness  and  happiness  to  him  alone. 
At  the  time  of  her  presentation  to  Christ, 
we  are  told  she  shall  be  "  a  glorious 
church ;"  and  we  feel  at  once  that  in  a 


situation  like  hers,  she  must  be  glorious. 
Her  high  destination,  we  say,  constitutes 
her  glory.  She  goes  into  heaven  tlie  bride 
of  tlie  enthroned  Saviour  ;  she  is  taken  into 
the  very  closest  alliance  with  the  most  exalt- 
ed Being  in  the  universe ;  she  sits  down  with 
him  on  his  throne.  No  elevation  equals 
hers.  So  marvellous  is  the  honor  put  on 
her,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  calls  them  happy 
who  are  allowed  even  to  witness  it.  "  Bless- 
ed," he  says,  "  are  they  who  are  called  to 
the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb."  H*" 
employs  the  noblest  objects  in  nature  to 
shadow  her  forth.  He  clothes  her  with  the. 
sun  ;  the  moon  is  put  under  her  feet ;  and 
on  her  head  is  a  crown  of  stars.  She  is  "  a 
wonder  in  heaven."  But  what  is  all  this  ? 
It  strains  our  imaginations  to  form  a  single 
idea  of  its  grandeur,  but,  in  Saint  Paul's 
estimation,  there  is  something  yet  higher. 
He  does  not  place  the  chief  glory  of  the 
church  in  the  lofty  eminence  she  has  climb, 
ed  ;  he  does  not  see  it  in  the  radiance 
which  covers  her  ;  no,  he  traces  it  still  in 
her  purity.  She  is  "  a  glorious  church," 
and  this,  even  on  the  summit  of  her  great- 
ness, constitutes  her  glory — she  has  "  no 
spot,  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing ;"  she 
is  "  holy  and  without  blemish." 

Nothing  dishonors,  brethren,  but  sin ; 
nothing  but  sin  is  really  shameful.  Now 
take  sin  from  the  soul,  and  you  have  re- 
moved from  it  every  thing  that  can  degrade 
it.  And  then  array  it  in  the  exalted  purity 
we  have  been  contemplating,  you  have  put 
on  it  the  very  highest  honor  a  creature  oi 
God  can  receive.  No  matter  who  or  what 
that  creature  is,  holiness  is  its  perfection, 
the  highest  pinnacle  of  excellence  to  which 
it  can  either  attain  or  aspire.  We  may  go 
further  ; — the  chief  glory  of  God  is  the  ho- 
linoss  of  God.  His  purity  is  his  brightest 
attribute.  His  power  and  immensity  strike 
us  more,  for  our  minds  are  debased,  we 
have  lost  the  perception  of  that  which  is 
most  elevated  in  its  character — moral  great- 
ness ;  but  go  up  into  heaven,  or  rather  read 
the  language  of  heaven  as  we  find  it  in  the 
Bible,  power  and  majesty  arc  both  extolled 
in  it,  but  this  is  the  one  great  subject  of 
adoration  in  heaven,  in  the  very  world 
where  all  the  divine  greatness  is  most  fully 
manifested — the  purity  of  Jehovah  ;  and 
this  the  song  which,  next  to  the  song  of 
salvation,  rises  most  constantly  in  its  splen- 
did courts — "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God 
of  hosts." 


THE  FINAL  GLORY  OF  TIIK  CHURCH. 


140 


No  wonder  then  that  the  church  will  be 
"  a  glorious  cliurch  ;''  tlie  likeness  of  God 
will  be  put  on  her,  the  iniafie  of  God  will 
shine  in  her  ;  that  attribute  of  Divinity, 
which  is  the  pertection  of  Divinity,  will  be 
her  crown.  •'  The  King's  daughter  shall 
be  all  glorious,"  because  she  is  "  glorious 
within."  She  has  left  al!  her  impurity  in 
the  world  she  has  forsaken,  and  has  waked 
up  in  her  Redeemer's  likeness,  "  holy  and 
without  blemish."  She  is  in  heaven,  not 
with  an  angel's  holiness,  but  with  the  holi- 
ness of  her  Lord  ;  a  holiness  that  causes 
the  infinite  Jehovah,  as  he  looks  on  her 
"  faultless"  before  him,  to  look  on  her  with 
admiration  and  delight ;  with  a  feeling 
which,  in  the  plenitude  of  his  inconceiva- 
ble happiness,  he  calls  "  exceeding  joy." 

We  have  now  gone  through  our  subject. 
The  one  great  truth  we  are  to  learn  from 
it,  is  the  real  value  of  holiness. 

The  e-stiniation  in  which  men  in  general 
hold  this,  is  seen  at  a  glance.  We  cannot 
say  that  they  undervalue  it,  for  they  set  no 
value  at  all  on  it ;  they  treat  it  with  con- 
tempt ;  nay,  some  of  them  deem  it  an  evil, 
rather  than  a  good.  The  law  that  enjoins 
it,  were  they  to  speak  out,  they  would  call 
a  law  of  harshness  and  severity.  It  is  a 
system  of  restraints,  a  galling  yoke,  an  in- 
tolerable burden.  This  is  man's  judg- 
ment ;  now  see  God's  judgment.  He 
forms  the  determination  to  place  in  heaven 
a  people  who  shall  be  more  glorious  than 
any  besides  ;  a  people  who  shall  appear 
there  in  a  relation  to  him  so  close,  that  he 
represents  it  by  bringing  before  our  minds 
the  image  of  a  chosen  and  beloved  bride. 
This  people  he  determines  to  take  from  our 
fallen  earth.  Now  what  course  does  he 
adopt  to  carry  his  design  into  etlect  ?  How 
does  he  lift  up  fallen  man  to  this  height  of 
honor  ?  He  '-sanctiiies  and  cleanses"  him; 
he  makes  him  holy.  He  adopts  this  course 
to  make  him  glorious — he  makes  him 
pure. 

God  had  also  another  object  in  view  in 
his  mysterious  dealings  with  man.  He  de- 
termined to  display  the  love  of  his  own  in- 
finite mind  in  the  very  highest  way  in 
which  it  could  be  displayed  ;  to  go  to  the 
uttermost  in  the  manifestation  of  it,  not  on- 
ly in  the  mode  of  its  exhibition,  but  in  the 
end  accomplished  by  it.  This  end  is  our 
purification.  He  strips  us  of  the  sin  that 
degrades  us.  and  gives  us  in  exchange  for 
it  his  own  holiness ;  and  then  the  angels 


that  surround  him,  are  constrained  to  say, 
•'  Behold  how  he  has  loved  them  !" 

And  once  more  observe  how  dearlv  he 
purchases  for  us  this  purity.  It  is  not,  like 
the  sun  and  the  stars,  the  effect  of  a  crea- 
ting word.  He  spake,  and  they  shone  Uirth, 
in  a  moment,  in  all  their  magnificence. 
But  when  the  church  is  to  be  cleansed,  all 
the  energies  of  Jehovah  are  called  into  ex- 
ercise. We  dare  not  say  that  there  was 
edbrt  in  heaven,  but  there  was  in  this  thing 
a  display  of  power,  and  wisdom,  and  grace, 
which  heaven  had  never  before  witnessed. 
God  gave  himself  for  us.  He  stoops  down 
to  a  sinner's  form,  dwells  in  a  sinner's 
world,  and  lies  down  in  a  sinner's  grave. 
And  then  the  eternal  Spirit  puts  forth  his 
omnipotence.  He  establishes  ordinances  ; 
he  sends  forth  prophets  and  ministers  ;  with 
his  own  everlasting  pen  he  writes  his  ^\■ord  ; 
he  sets  up  an  apparatus  of  mercy  on  the 
earth,  and  preserves  it  there  age  after  age, 
and  all  to  produce  this  one  effect,  to  put  on 
a  company  of  redeemed  sinners'  the  like- 
ness of  their  God. 

Is  sin  then  a  blessing,  brethren  ?  Can 
indulgence  in  sin  make  one  of  you  happy  ? 
O  what  a  libel  on  the  gospel  is  such  an 
idea !  What  an  aspersion  cast  on  the 
judgment  and  ways  of  an  allvvise  God  ! 
Sin  may  be  sweet  to  a  polluted  mind  ; 
pleasure  may  be  wrung  out  of  iniquity  ; 
we  may  love  "  the  unclean  thing"  better 
than  we  love  heaven,  or  peace  of  con- 
science, or  even  life  itself;  but  our  love 
for  it  alters  not  its  nature.  In  exact  pro- 
portion as  holiness  is  a  blessing,  sin  is  a 
curse  ;  there  is  as  much  misery  in  the  one, 
as  there  is  blessedness  in  the  other  ;  and  in 
the  end  we  shall  know  this,  and  own  it. 
Our  judgments,  the  judgment  of  every 
creature  that  lives,  shall  correspond  with 
the  judgment  of  God.  Even  in  tlie  hell 
in  which  sin  was  born,  it  shall  be  ac- 
knowledged to  be  the  heaviest,  the  only 
evil.  In  heaven,  where  all  happiness 
abounds,  holiness  shall  be  felt  to  be  the 
highest  good.  They  who  rejoice  in  it.  shall 
deem  it  the  perfection  of  their  excellence, 
the  consummation  of  their  bliss. 

I  see  then  what  I  ought  most  fervently 
to  desire,  and  most  earnestly  to  seek.  It 
is  not  a  mere  change  of  situations  or  of 
worlds,  but  a  more  comj)lete  change  of 
heart.  It  is  not  simply  the  kingdom  or 
presence  of  niv  Lord,  but  his  likeness,  his 
holiness.     Higher  than  this  I  cannot  look  ; 


]50 


THE  HISTORY  OF  JONAH'S  GOURD. 


lower  than  this,  by  God's  help,  I  will  not. 
I  will  deem  every  thing  an  evil,  that  oh- 
structs  my  pursuit  of  this  ;  I  will  consider 
every  thing  a  good,  that  brings  me  nearer 
to  this,  or  quickens  my  longings  for  it. 
The  thought  of  it  shall  "teach"  me  to  prize 
my  Bible,  ^s  though  it  were  my  chief 
earthly  treasure  ;  it  shall  cause  me  to 
welcome  sabbaths  and  ordinances  with 
emotions  of  joy.  The  hope  of  it,  if  it  docs 
not  take  from  afflictions  all  their  bitterness, 
shall  make  me  willing  to  receive  them,  and 
turn  at  least  some  of^  my  tears  into  tears  of 
thankfulness.  It  shalfendear  the  blessed 
Jesus  to  my  heart  as  my  Purifier,  as  well  as 
my  Saviour.  No  longer  will  I  seek  holiness 
in  my  own  proud  resolutions  and  efforts. 
I  will  look  for  it  to  the  love,  and  the  cross, 
and  the  Spirit,  and  the  word,  of  Christ. 
And  I  know  that  1  shall  not  look  in  vain. 
As  surely  as  he  wore  my  form,  I  shall 
wear  his.  I  shall  be  like  him  when  I  see 
him  as  he  is. 


SERMON    XXVIII. 

THE  HISTORY  OF  JONAH'S  GOURD. 

Jonah  iv.  G,  7. 

The  Lord  God  prepartd  a  gourd,  and  made  it,  to 
come  up  over  Jonah,  that  it  might  be  a  shadow 
over  his  head  to  deliver  him  from  his  grief.  So 
Jonah  was  exceeding  glad  of  the  gourd.  But 
God  prepared  a  worm  when  the  morning  rose 
the  next  day,  and  it  smote  the  gourd  that  it 
withered. 

We  have  little  more  here  than  the  his- 
tory of  a  single  plant — its  springing  up,  the 
eflect  produced  by  it  on  a  prophet's  mind, 
and  then  its  witliering  aAvay ; — a  subject, 
it  may  be  thought,  scarcely  worthy  of  our 
attention ;  but  the  great  God  has  deemed 
it  worthy  of  his  everlasting  pen,  and  there 
is  not  one  among  us,  who  may  not  get  from 
it  instruction  ;  more,  it  may  be,  than  any 
of  us  expect. 

I.  Notice  the  springivg  up  of  this  gourd. 
And  this  took  place  under  very  remarka- 
ble and  truly  affecting  circumstances.  Jo- 
nah had  preached  at  Nineveh  ;  he  hud 
come  to  it  with  a  message  fi'om  God  de- 
nouncing its  s])eedy  ruin.  '•  Vet  forty 
days,"  he  cried  in  its  streets,  "and  Nine- 


veh shall  be  overthrown.'"  The  people 
profited  by  the  warning;  they  humbled 
themselves  greatly  before  the  Lord  ;  and 
the  consequence  was,  the  Lord  "  repented 
of  the  evil  that  he  had  said  that  he  would 
do  unto  them,  and  he  did  it  not."  And 
now  where  is  Jonah  ?  Rejoicing  in  the 
success  of  his  ministry  ?  going  once  more 
through  the  streets  of  tlie  rescued  city,  and 
exhorting  its  inhabitants  to  thankfulness 
and  prai.se  ?  No  ;  we  are  told  in  tlie  first 
verse  of  this  chapter,  that  the  sparing  of 
Nineveh  "displeased  him  exceedingly." 
He  thought  that  it  would  affect  his  reputa- 
tion as  a  prophet,  cause  his  threatenings  in 
future  to  be  disregarded  and  himself  con- 
temned ;  and  this  was  more  than  he  could 
bear.  Mortified  and  angry,  he  wishes  and 
even  prays  that  he  may  die  ;  and  then 
leaving  the  town,  seats  himself  in  a  booth 
or  tent  on  the  outside  of  it,  still  hoping  per- 
haps that  in  some  way  or  other  God  would 
visit  it  with  his  judgments,  and  that  he 
might  have  the  gratification  of  witnessing 
them.  And  this  was  the  man  for  whom  the 
Lord  prepared  a  gourd,  and  this  the  mo- 
ment when  he  prepared  it. 

1.  Learn  here  then  that  a  gracious  God 
sometimes  visits  us  with  mercies  when  we 
have  reason  to  expect  judgments  ;  I  mean 
special  mercies  when  we  merit  special 
judgments,  and  even  put  ourselves  in  the 
way  of  them. 

Rage  drives  Jonah  out  of  Nineveh  into 
the  scorching  heat  of  an  eastern  sun,  and 
there,  while  he  is  quarrelling  with  God  and 
asking  for  death,  springs  up  suddenly  a 
wide-spreading  plant  to  shelter  and  comfort 
him.  Another  prophet  too,  Elijah,  is  simi- 
larly dealt  with.  He  also  flies  from  the 
al)od(is  of  men  ;  he  goes  into  a  desolate 
wilderness  ;  and  in  that  wilderness,  out  of 
the  path  of  duty,  comfort  from  heaven 
comes  to  him.  God  first  feeds  him  by  an 
angel,  and  then  keeps  him  alive  for  forty 
days  without  any  food  at  all.  In  sea.sons 
like  these,  the  dark  seasons  of  the  spiritual 
life,  faith  is  weak,  and  a  compassionate 
God  stoops  to  its  weakness.  Pie  gives  the 
soul  sensible  indications  of  his  love,  re- 
calls it  to  its  duty  and  happiness  by  mer- 
cies which  it  can  f-el  and  understand. 

"But  is  not  this,"  you  may  ask,  "an 
encouragement  to  sin  ?"  No,  brethren  : 
not  to  sin,  but  to  prayer  ;  an  encourage- 
ment in  every  situation  to  cast  ourselves  on 
God  and  hope  in  his  goodness.     It  forbids 


THE  HISTORY  OF  JONAH'S  GOURD. 


151 


us  to  say,  in  trying  circumstances,  "  I  have 
brouglit  this  evil  on  myself,  and  I  must 
bear  it."  Out  of  the  lowest  depths  of  trou- 
ble and  even  guilt,  it  tells  us  to  cry  unto 
the  Lord  with  David,  "  O  bring  thou  me 
out  of  my  distresses.  Look  upon  mine  af- 
fliction and  my  pain,  and  forgive  all  my 
sins." 

2.  And  learn  further,  that  there  is  no 
ivant  of  his  servants  too  small  for  God  to  no- 
tice, and  no  suffering  too  light  for  him  to  re- 
lieve. Jonah's  worthless  head  is  as  much 
an  object  of  his  concern,  as  Jonah's  guilty 
soul.  He  provides  a  Saviour  for  the  one, 
but  that  does  not  content  him — he  raises 
up  a  miraculous  gourd  for  the  comfort  of 
the  other. 

In  no  point  do  we  mistake  more  than 
in  this.  "  This  matter,"  we  say,  "  is  too 
contemptible  to  be  taken  to  God."  Tt 
grieves  us,  and  burdens  and  perplexes  us ; 
but  then  it  is  a  little  thing,  and  the  great 
God  who  rolls  along  the  stars  in  their 
courses,  cannot,  we  think,  deign  to  look  on 
it ;  it  is  beneath  his  regard.  But  O  the 
narrowness  of  our  thoughts  of  God !  Is  he 
not  an  infinite  God  ?  and  are  not  his  conde- 
scension and  love  boundless  ?  as  boundless 
as  the  power  that  fixed  the  sun  in  the  hea- 
vens, and  then  created  the  worm  on  the 
ground  ?  We  limit  him,  we  dishonor  him, 
when  we  say,  "  This  is  too  small  for  him," 
as  much  as  when  we  say,  "  That  is  too 
great."  Then  are  our  views  of  him  right, 
when  we  see  him  everywhere,  and  go  to 
him  in  every  thing  ;  when  we  expect  him 
to  be  as  mindful  of  the  hairs  of  our  head, 
as  of  the  brightest  orb  in  the  skies.  Hear 
his  own  account  of  the  matter.  The  cov- 
enant he  has  made  with  his  chosen,  is  "  or- 
dered," ho  tells  us,  "  in  all  things."  The 
care  he  invites  us  to  roll  on  him,  is  "all 
our  care  ;"  the  need  he  promises  to  sup- 
ply, is  "all  our  need."  And  as  for  com- 
fort, he  bids  us  look  on  a  mother  pressing 
her  infant  to  her  heart,  anxious  to  discover 
every  want,  and,  in  her  solicitude,  almost 
laboring  to  remove  imaginary  griefs  ;  and 
then  he  says  to  us,  "  As  one  whom  his 
mother  comforteth,  so  will  I  comfort  you." 
Is  a  plant  springing  out  of  the  ground  to 
shade  our  head,  wonderful  ?  He  is  willing 
to  send  down  his  Holy  Spirit  from  the  ever- 
lasting heavens  to  drive  one  painful  thought 
out  of  our  heart. 

3.  Aiul  in  all  this  he  magnifies  himself; 
for  mark  yet  another  truth  implied  here — 


I  the  Lord  often  reveals  hi.s  greatness  by  the 
I  7node  in  ti'hich  he  imparts  comfort  and  mam- 
fesls  his  compassion. 

I  allude  not  to  that  sudden  and  strange 
consolation  which  he  sometimes  communi- 
cates to  the  burdened  soul  in  prayer,  which 
comes  we  hardly  know  whence  nor  how, 
and  takes  away,  almost  before  we  are 
aware,  the  anguish  which  we  thought  noth- 
ing could  remove.  I  speak  of  those  dis- 
pensations of  providence,  those  unexpected 
deliverances,  and  blessings,  and  comforts, 
which  every  servant  of  God  occasionally 
experiences;  things  occurring  in  a  moment 
to  help  and  gladden  him,  which  all  his  con- 
trivance and  labor  could  not  bring  about; 
and  occurring  so,  that  he  must  be  blind  not 
to  see  in  them  a  divine  hand.  Jonah  goes 
to  work  under  the  wall  of  Nineveh  ;  he 
makes  him  a  booth,  and  sits  under  its  sha- 
dow;  but  the  sun- still  flames  above  him 
and  strikes  down  on  him  ;  his  labor  is  vain. 
That  was  Jonah's  work  ;  now  comes  God 
and  works.  In  an  hour,  perhaps  in  an  in- 
stant, a  plant  strikes  its  root  downward, 
and  .sends  its  branches  upward,  and  Jonah 
is  sitting  at  his  ease  in  its  cool  and  refresh- 
ing shade.  And  this  without  any  labor, 
without  a  movement,  on  his  part.  He  nei- 
ther "  labored  for  it,  nor  made  it  to  grow." 
The  Lord,  it  is  said,  "  made  it  to  come  up 
over  him."     It  covered  him  as  he  sat. 

We  have  not  to  run  after  goodness  and 
mercy.  If  we  are  Christ's  friends,  they 
will  "  follow,"  run  after  us.  Our  compas- 
sionate Father  will  not  only  do  for  us  what 
we  need,  but  do  it  with  speed ;  as  the 
psalmist  expresses  it,  he  will  do  it  "right 
early  ;"  he  will  set  wheels,  as  it  were,  to 
liis  power  and  goodness.  He  will  bend 
events  to  his  purpose  ;  nay,  if  need  be,  he 
will  change  the  course  of  nature  to  com- 
fort his  saints.  "I  will  deliver  thee,"  he 
says,  "and  thou  shalt  glorify  me."  "I 
will  .so  deliver  thee,  that  thou  shalt  see  my 
glory  in  thy  deliverance,  and  magnify  my 
name." 

II.  But  we  must  pass  on  to  a  less  pleas- 
ing part  of  our  subject — the  cffccl  produced 
on  the  prophct\s  mind  hy  this  interposition  of 
God  in  his  behalf. 

And  now  comes  out  human  nature.  Flow 
unlike  the  nature  of  God!  We  are  told 
that  "  Jonah  was  exceeding  glad  of  the 
gourd  :"  or,  as  it  is  rendered  in  the  margin, 
"  he  rejoiced  in  it  with  great  joy." 

1.  Well  may  we  wonder  at  the  folly  of 


152 


THE  HISTORY  OF  JONAH'S  GOURD. 


that  heart  which  could  take  so  much  pleas- 
ure in  so  mean  a  thing  ;  but  there  is  great- 
er reason  still  to  wonder  at  its  amazing  self - 
ishness. 

This  history  is  like  a  libel  on  human  na- 
ture. There  sits  a  man,  and  a  man  of 
God  too,  looking  down  on  a  city  containing 
well-nigh  a  million  of  souls,  and  expecting 
the  judgments  of  heaven  every  moment  to 
blast  it  ;  and  yet,  in  this  situation,  he  is  stu- 
dying his  own  comfort  as  though  he  had 
nothing  else  to  think  of,  and  rejoicing  in  a 
little  ease  for  his  worthless  body,  as  though 
he  had  acquired  some  heavenly  and  ever- 
lasting good.  "So  Jonah  was  exceeding 
glad  of  the  gourd  ;  he  rejoiced  with  great 
joy."  What  could  he  have  done  more,  if 
the  heavens  had  been  rent,  and  descending 
angels  had  told  him  of  a  Saviour's  advent  ? 
A  thing  like  this  seems  incredible  ;  but 
look  into  the  world,  look  into  your  own 
hearts,  and  you  believe  it  in  a  moment. 
What  at  times  has  been  a  perishing  world, 
a  suti'ering  neighbor,  or  even  a  dying  friend 
to  us?  Nothing.  0«r  own  cares  and  con- 
cerns have  absorbed  us,  have  exhausted 
on  themselves  every  feeling  and  thought. 
And  when  has  this  occurred  ?  When  we 
have  forgotten  God  ;  when  we  have  wan- 
dered from  the  Lord  ;  when  our  love  to  a 
bleeding  Saviour  has  grown  cold,  and  our 
view  of  him  distant,  and  our  communion 
with  him  slight.  There  is  no  keeping  the 
heart  generous  and  warm  but  near  the 
cross.  Feeling  there  may  be  elsewhere, 
and  sometimes  lively  and  deep  feeling,  but 
it  will  generally  be  fluctuating  and  always 
selfish  ;  it  can  never  be  trusted.  Nothing 
beats  down  the  vile  love  of  self,  but  the 
love  of  Christ.  That,  and  that  only,  can 
give  birth  to  a  pure,  and  disinterested,  and 
abiding  affection  ;  a  love  that  can  lay  pas- 
sion, and  vanity,  and  pride,  and  jealousy, 
and  every  other  bad  feeling  of  man's  bad 
heart,  prostrate  beneath  its  power,  and  find 
its  delight  and  its  reward  in  the  welfare  of 
its  object. 

2.  Hut  tlu're  is  something  more  to  be 
noticed  in  this  strange  joy.  Wo  see  depict- 
ed in  it  the  ingratitude  of  the  hvman  heart. 

Si)p])f)se  yourselves,  brethren,  in  this 
prophet's  situation  ;  sitting,  faint  and  ijasp- 
ing,  on  the  parched  ground  under  a  burn- 
ing sun,  not  a  tree  or  a  covert  near,  all 
desolation  without  and  suffering  within. 
On  a  sudden  brant^hes  bend  over  your  head, 
wide-spreading    1  saves  throw   their  shade 


and  probably  their  fragrance  around  you; 
you  are  embowered  by  a  miracle.  What 
would  be  your  first  feeling  ?  Wonder, 
perhaps  astonishment.  But  what  ypur 
second  ?  You  would  spring  from  the  earth, 
or/-ather  you  would  lie  down  on  it,  and  pour 
out  the  feelings  of  thankfulness  in  tears 
and  praise.  Such,  it  may  be,  has  been 
your  conduct  under  some  of  your  mercies, 
and  blessed  then  have  those  mercies  proved 
to  you ;  but  if  your  hearts  are  like  other 
hearts,  like  Jonah's  heart,  it  has  not  been 
always  thus.  You  have  sometimes  for- 
gotten God  in  the  comforts  he  has  given 
you  ;  and  those  very  comforts  have  been 
the  causes  of  your  forgetting  him.  They 
have  separated  between  Christ  and  your 
soul  ;  they  have  taken  his  place  within 
you,  and  absorbed  in  themselves  the  love, 
and  delight,  and  thoughts,  which  are  his 
due,  and  which  but  for  them  he  might  have 
possessed.  You  have  prized  the  gift,  and 
in  the  gift  and  because  of  it,  you  have  lost 
sight  of  the  bountiful  Giver.  There  is 
nothing  wrong  in  receiving  a  mercy  with 
joy  ;  the  sin  and  the  shame  lie  in  an  eflbrt 
to  take  up  our  rest  in  it,  in  saying  or  feel- 
ing, "  I  have  now  the  desire  of  my  heart, 
and  am  satisfied.  I  have  much  goods  laid 
up.  Soul,  take  thine  ease."  And  this  is 
the  way  in  which  we  forfeit  our  comforts. 

III.  Look  at  the  withering  of  this  over- 
valued gourd.  "  God,"  says  the  history, 
"  prepared  a  worm  when  the  morning  rose 
the  next  da}^,  and  it  smote  the  gourd  that 
it  withered." 

1.  Here  we  are  reminded  that  all  earth, 
ly  co7nforts  are  short-lived ;  they  are  frail 
and  perishing.  They  are  all  gourds,  with- 
ering gourds.  They  often  die  while  we 
are  rejoicing  in  them. 

Every  one  says  this,  and  every  one  ap- 
pears to  believe  it  ;  init  it  is  marvellous 
how  little  hold  this  truth  has  on  the  judg- 
ment of  any  one  of  us,  and  how  much  less 
still  it  afft-cts  our  prospects,  our  purposes, 
or  our  conduct.  Men  talk  every  hour  as 
though  it  were  a  jest.  "  This  sickly  child 
may  die,"  says  one,  "  but  that  strong  youth 
will  live  to  be  the  prop  and  comfort  of  my 
age."  "  My  parent  I  must  soon  lay  in  the 
grave,"  says  another,  ''  but  my  husi)and, 
my  brother,  my  friend,  will  still  be  by  my 
side,  and  prove  my  solace  and  stay."  "  My 
property  is  wasting,"  says  a  third,  "  but  my 
health  is  sound.  I  can  labor  fiir  more." 
"  Men  are  changeable  and  treacherous,  I 


THE  HISTORY  OF  JONAH'S  GOURD. 


153 


Icnow,"  says  yet  another,  "  but  I  have  tried 
that  friend,  and  he  never  will  fail  me." 
Such  is  tliO  language  of  an  inconsiderate 
world  ;  but  what  is  the  language  of  truth 
and  fact  ?  They  take  us  to  the  booth  of 
Jonah  ;  they  show  us  his  withered  gourd  ; 
and  as  they  point  to  it,  they  say  :  "  It  came 
up  in  a  night,  and  it  perished  in  a  night. 
Thv  gourds  also  are  frail.  They  may 
grow  in  luxuriance  and  be  green  in  beau- 
ty? may  afford  exceeding  pleasure  to  you 
w^iile  they  last ;  but  as  to  their  continu- 
ance, think  not  of  it.  Hast  thou  them  to- 
day ?  Be  thankful  and  sober-minded  in 
the  use  of  them  :  but  boast  not  thyself  of 
to-morrow  :  thou  knowest  not  what  a  day 
may  bring  forth." 

2.  And  connect  with  this  truth  another, 
— the  comfort  that  most  delights  us,  is  gene- 
rally the  first  to  perish;  the  mercies  we  lose 
the  soonest,  are  those  we  love  the  best. 

This  is  not  the  mere  language  of  senti- 
ment or  poetry  ;  it  is  the  testimony  of  fact. 
Jonah's  experience  prQves  its  truth,  and  so 
does  our  own.  When  have  we  ever  put 
the  creature  in  God's  place,  given  it  that 
room  in  our  soul  which  he  ought  to  occu- 
py, but  God  has  either  removed  it,  or  em- 
bittered it,  or  put  an  end  to  it  ?  Many  of 
our  blessings  have  we  lost  by  loving  them 
too  well.  We  have  slain  tliem  by  setting 
too  great  a  value  on  them,  and  taking  our 
rest  in  them.  There  is  not  a  single  earth- 
ly good  that  will  bear  man's  hand,  when 
man  firmly  grasps  it.  His  touch  withers 
and  destroys  every  thing.  And  O  what  a 
mercy  for  man  that  it  is  so !  It  is  in  this 
way  that  a  forgotten  God  recalls  our  wan- 
dering affections  to  himself.  He  lays  waste 
the  enthroned  creature,  that  he  may  once 
again  enthrone  himself.  He  breaks  the 
cistern,  not  that  we  may  be  left  ])arched 
and  fainting  in  the  wilderness  of  life,  but 
go  and  satisfy  our  thirsting  souls  once 
again  from  the  everlasting  spring.  He 
crushes  the  reed,  but  he  suljstitutes  for  it  a 
rock.  He  puts  far  away  from  us  "  lover 
and  friend,"  with  all  the  unutterable  sweet- 
ness of  their  affection  and  tenderness,  but 
what  does  he  substitute  ?  Himself;  the 
intense,  unfathomable  love  of  his  own  infi- 
nite mind,  the  presence  of  Christ,  and  com- 
munion with  heaven. 

3.  But  there  is  something  worthy  of  no- 
tice in  the  time  when  this  gourd  withered. 
It  was,  vou  observe,  "  when  the  morning 
rose,"  a  little  before  the  sun  appeared.    All 

20 


through  the  night,  when  its  protection  was 
but  little  wanted,  it  fiourislied  ;  but  now, 
just  at  the  time  when  it  is  most  needed,  it 
dies.  And  what  docs  this  show  ?  It  shows 
that  our  comforts  are  often  taken  from  us, 
when  they  appear  to  be  the  most  needed. 
Our  prop  gives  way  when  we  are  the 
weakest.  Our  friends  die  or  fail  us,  our 
health  sinks,  our  property  goes,  just  at  the 
very  period  when  we  seem  as  though  we 
could  not  do  without  them.  We  build  a 
house,  we  get  into  it,  and  though  it  stands 
on  the  sand,  it  does  well  enougli  for  a  time, 
for  there  is  nothing  to  try  either  it  or  us  ; 
but  the  storm  gathers,  "  the  vehement  east 
wind"  comes  ;  and  where  is  our  refuge 
now  ?  Prostrate,  and  we  are  half  buried  in 
its  ruins.  O  the  pains  that  God  takes  to 
empty  us  of  earthly  confidence  !  not  only 
smiting  the  comforts  we  most  prize,  but 
smiting  them  in  that  very  hour  which  is 
most  likely  to  show  us  their  vanity,  and  in 
that  very  manner  also  ! 

4.  For  observe,  lastly,  that  our  comforts 
often  perish  from  unforeseen  and  veryincon- 
siderahle  causes.     A  trifle  destroys  them. 

The  instrument  that  God  used  where- 
with to  afflict  Jonah,  was  a  contemptible 
one.  He  might  have  sent  a  hurricane  to 
uproot  his  gourd,  a  wild  boast  out  of  the 
forest  to  devour  it,  or  lightning  from  heav- 
en to  blast  it ;  but  he  prepares  a  worm, 
and  but  one  worm,  to  execute  the  work, 
and  the  work  is  done,  done  effectually, 
done  suddenly,  as  if  with  violence  ;  "  it 
smote  the  gourd  that  it  withered."  The 
stoutest  arm  and  the  keenest  axe  could  not 
have  done  more. 

Just  as  God  honors  himself  in  blessing 
by  choosing  those  instruments  which  ap- 
pear to  the  eye  of  sense  altogether  inade- 
quate for  his  purpose,  so  he  often  honors 
himself  in  afflicting.  He  strips  us  bare 
we  know  not  how  ;  robs  us  of  our  dearest 
mercies  by  means  that  we  should  never 
have  suspected  of  being  able  to  touch  a 
hair  of  our  heads. 

Out  of  heaven,  happiness  is  never  safe. 
The  fruit  of  a  tree  ruined  it  in  paradise, 
and  minute  indf^ed  arc  the  trifles  tliat  often 
ruin  it  now.  Whose  mind  has  not  a  word 
or  a  look  fevered  ?  Who  has  not  had  his 
rest  broken,  his  soul  thrown  into  a  tumult, 
by  causes  which  he  would  be  unwilling  for 
even  a  child  to  know ;  things  that  he 
despises  himself  for  heeding,  but  the  tor- 
mentinir  influence  of  which  he  cannot  with- 


154 


THE  RISEN  JESUS  QUESTIONING  PETER'S  LOVE. 


stand  ?  Would  you  see  man  in  liis  weak- 
ness, brellu-en  I  Look  at  the  contemptible 
trifles  that  amuse,  and  delight,  and  almost 
content  him  :  look  at  much  of  his  gladness 
— it  comes  from  a  gourd.  And  then  /ook 
at  the  trifles  tliat  vex  and  disturb  him,  that 
destroy  his  comforts — a  worm  can  smite 
them,  a  ,  breath  can  end  them  ;  yea,  he 
himself,  as  well  as  all  on  earth  that  grieves 
and  gladdens  liim,  is  "  crushed  before  the 
moth.''  Jonah  "exceeding  glad  of  his 
gourd,"  was  a  weaker  man  than  Jonali 
struggling  in  the  waves.  His  feebleness 
comes  out,  not  in  the  hurricane  and  storm, 
but  beneath  an  insect's  blow,  the  smiting 
of  a  worm. 

Such  is  the  history  of  this  miraculous 
plant — it  sprang  up,  it  gave  delight,  it 
brought  into  sight  the  baseness  of  the  hu- 
man heart,  and  then  withered.  And  is  not 
this  the  history  of  every  comfort  the  earth 
yields  ?  Has  it  not  been  the  history  of  al- 
most all  your  own  ?  You  need  not  be  told 
again  why  it  is  so  ;  why  the  same  God  that 
prepares  the  gourd,  prepares  also  the  worm ; 
why  he  takes  away  the  comforts  that  he 
gives.  There  is  not  a  man  of  God  among 
you,  who  is  not  ready  to  say,  "  He  does  it 
all  in  love  ;  in  compassion  for  my  ignorant, 
earthly  soul  ;  to  make  me  feel  in  how 
empty  a  world  I  am  living,  what  a  corru])t 
heart  I  am  carrying  about  in  it,  what  an 
abundant  cause  I  have  to  lie  down  in  self- 
abasement  and  shame.  He  does  it  to  al- 
lure me  to- himself;  to  show  me  his  good- 
ness, and  power,  and  all-sufficiency  ;  to 
make  me  see  the  fulness  that  is  in  him, 
that  I  may  desire  it,  and  draw  out  of  it, 
and  live  on  it,  and  rejoice  in  it.  He  would 
make  me  long  for  heaven,  and  till  1  arrive 
in  heaven,  he  would  reconcile  me  to  his 
ways.  I  .often  quarrel  with  his  dispensa- 
tions ;  they  thwart  my  will,  or  they  disap- 
point my  expectations,  or  they  wound  my 
pride.  He  sends  me  trouble,  and  in  my 
trouble  I  am  taught  his  righteousness,  love, 
and  trulh.  "  Thou  hast  had  pity  on  the 
gourd,"  he  said  to  Jonah,  "  for  the  which 
thou  hast  not  lal)crcd  neither  mudest  it  grow, 
which  came  up  in  a  m'ght  and  perished  in 
a  night  ;  and  should  not  I  spare  Nineveh, 
that  great  city,  wlierein  are  more  than  six- 
score  thousand  persons  tl)at  cannot  discern 
between  their  right  hand  and  their  left  hand, 
and  also  much  cattle  ?"  In  his  providence, 
he  often  says  tlie  same  to  me.  As  I  con- 
template the  ruin  lie  has  spread  around  me, 


or  muse  over  the  fond  objects  of  my  idola- 
try  he  lias  hidden  from  my  sight,  O  how 
my  soul  has  sometimes  felt  ashamed  of  its 
baseness  and  wondered  at  its  folly  !  And 
then  my  alHicting  God  has  discovered  to 
me  his  glory.  I  see  and  adore  his  wisdom. 
My  suspicions  of  his  goodness  are  changed 
into  confidence  and  praise," 

This  history,  in  fact,  speaks  to  us  all. 
It  bids  us  care  less  about  a  passing  world. 
It  tells  us  plainly  that  we  are  liable  to  be 
deprived  of  every  thing  under  which  we 
take  shelter  or  delight ;  and  it  calls  on  us 
to  seek  after  that  refuge  and  comfort,  of 
which  no  creature  either  small  or  great 
can  rob  us.  And  is  there  such  a  refuge, 
such  comfo-..,  for  harassed,  miserable 
man  ?  Yes,  brethren  ;  for  everv  one  who 
is  weary  of  a  deceitful  earth,  and  a  still 
more  deceitful  heart.  It  is  in  Christ  Jesus, 
in  a  manifested,  incarnate  God  ;  in  his 
cross,  and  righteousness,  and  Spirit ;  in 
union  and  intercourse  with  him.  And  it  is 
nowhere  else.  A  crucified  Jesus  is  the  one 
only  remedy  for  all  human  ills,  the  one  on- 
ly source  of  all  solid  happiness.  And  a 
lasting,  unchangeable  source  ;  "  the  same 
yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever."  No  worm 
withers  this  tree  of  life ;  no  hurricane 
shakes,  no  time  decays,  no  enemy  harms 
it.  It  stands  fair  and  glorious  in  a  deso- 
late world,  "  a  refuge  from  the  storm,  a 
shadow  from  the  heat."  On  its  head  is 
glory  ;  around  it,  fragrance  ;  in  its  leaves, 
healing  ;  underneath  it,  rest  and  safety, 
srladness  and  everlasting  songs. 


SERMON    XXIX. 

THE  RISEN  JESUS  QUESTIONING  PETER  b 
LOVE. 

St.  John  xxi.  17. 

He  sniih  nnto  him  the  third  time,  Simon,  son  oj 
Jonas,  lovest  thou  me  ?  I'eter  uuis  grieved  be- 
cause he  said  viito  him.  the  third  time,  Lovest 
thou  7ne  7  and  he  said  unto  him.  Lord,  thou 
kiiowesl  all  things;  thou  knointst  that  J  love 
thee. 

The  compassionate  Jesus  never  grieved 
unnecessarily  a  single  heart.  When  there- 
fore we  find  him  thus  paining  anew  the 
stricken  Peter,  we  may  be  sure  that  he  had 


THE  RISEN  JESUS  QUESTIONING  PETER'S   ^OVE. 


155 


some  object  in  view  of  more  than  ordinary 
importance  ;  at  all  events,  too  important 
to  be  sacrificed  either  to  his  discij)le'.s  feel- 
ings or  his  own.  That  object  perhaps  is 
easily  discovered.  It  appears  to  have  been 
the  vindication  of  his  own  holiness. 

Peter  had  sinned  against  him  ;  he  had 
basely  and  publicly  disowned  him.  Christ 
liad  pardoned  his  olTcnce  ;  nay,  he  had 
made  an  open  exhibition  of  the  pardon  he 
had  given  him,  for  he  had  treated  him  im- 
mediately after  his  resurrection  with  pecu- 
liar favor,  and  might  have  almost  been 
thought  to  love  him  more  for  the  injury  he 
had  done  him.  No  sooner  therefore  are 
Peter's  wounds  a  little  healed,  than  his 
risen  Lord  must  let  him  see,  must  let  the 
other  disciples  and  us  also  see,  that  he 
never  loses  his  holiness  in  his  tenderness ; 
that  in  the  lowest  depths  of  his  compassion, 
in  the  most  soaring  heights  of  his  love,  he 
hates  sin  ;  hates  it  as  much  when  he  speaks 
peace  to  a  contrite  heart,  as  when  he  strikes 
down  the  thousands  of  murmuring  Israel 
in  the  desert,  or  deluges  a  world.  He  ac- 
cordingly reproves  Peter.  But  mark  how 
gently  he  reproves  him.  Nothing  is  said 
of  his  offence  ;  no  mention  is  made  of  his 
cowardice,  or  oaths,  or  curses:  all  he  has 
to  bear  is  this  simple  question,  "  Lovest 
thou  me  ?"'  True,  the  reproof  was  a  little 
strengthened  by  the  manner  in  which  he 
was  addressed.  His  Master  calls  him  not 
Peter,  the  name  he  himself  had  given  him. 
He  was  unworthy  of  such  a  title.  A  feath- 
er tossed  by  the  wind  was  a  better  emblem 
of  the  man,  than  the  rock  which  withstands 
the  storm.  Hence  his  fisherman's  name 
is  revived  ;  he  is  called  once  more,  "  Si- 
mon, son  of  Jonas."  But  yet  again  in 
thus  sending  him  back  to  the  days  of 
his  ignorance,  Christ  does  not  disown 
him.  He  exalts  even  while  he  reproves 
him,  giving  him  a  public  opportunity  of 
making  a  repeated  declaration  of  his  faith 
and  love,  and  re-investing  him  with  his 
apostolic  commission.  Thrice  Peter  had 
virtually  renounced  it ;  thrice  his  Lord  re- 
turns it  into  his  hands. 

Brethren,  what  a  Master  is  ours!  He 
is  "  righteous  in  all  his  ways  and  holy  in 
all  his  works,"  and  yet  he  spares  us  when 
we  deserve  cliastisement,  and  even  "  in  his 
wrath  he  remembers  mercy."  He  often 
pardons  our  sins  befln'e  he  reproves  them  ; 
and  then  he  makes  that  very  reproof,  when 
it  comes,  a  fresh  manifestation  of  his  love  ; 


putting  honor  on  us  with  one  hand,  while 
he  gently  scourges  us  with  the  other. 

In  proceeding  to  examine  more  closely 
his  question  to  Peter  and  afterwards  Peter's 
reply  to  it,  I  hardly  need  say  that  a  ques- 
tion thrice  repeated  by  the  Son  of  God,  and 
as  often  answered  by  a  beloved  apostle, 
is  deserving  of  your  attention.  No  ques- 
tion that  you  can  be  asked,  is  more  de- 
serving of  it.  May  tiie  Spirit  of  God  car- 
ry it  home  to  your  hearts  ! 

I.  1.  We  gather  from  our  Lord^s  inquiry, 
first,  that  he  takes  pleasure  in  the  love  of  his 
people  towards  him  and  in  their  avowal  of  it. 
And  herein  he  discovers  his  human  nature. 

We  are  all  conscious  that  whenever  there 
is  any  real  affection  in  our  minds  towards 
any  object,  we  desire  to  see  the  same  affec- 
tion in  that  object  towards  ourselves,  and 
are  gratified  by  any  sincere  and  well-timed 
manifestation  of  it.  Jonathan  shared  in 
this  feeling.  We  read  that  when  he  had 
made  a  covenant  of  friendship  with  David, 
he  was  not  content  with  David's  pledging 
himself  once  to  a  faithful  adherence  to  it ; 
he  "  caused  him  to  swear  again."  And 
why  ?  Because  he  distrusted  his  friend  ? 
"  No,"  says  the  sacred  historian,  "  because 
he  loved  him,  for  he  loved  him  as  he  loved 
his  own  soul." 

Now  our  Lord's  heart  is,  in  all  sinless 
things,  like  our  hearts.  He  loved  Peter, 
loved  him  with  the  tenderest  and  most  in- 
tense affection.  He  found  gratification 
therefore,  not  only  in  Peter's  love  towards 
him,  but  in  those  reiterated  assurances  of 
it,  which  this  trial  of  iiim  drew  forth.  He 
makes  no  inquiry,  observe,  into  his  faith 
or  hope,  he  asks  him  not  one  question  as  to 
the  reality  or  depth  of  liis  contrition  ;  all  he 
says  is,  "  Lovest  thou  me  ?" 

And  pass  not  over  this,  brethren,  as  a 
matter  of  mere  sentiment.  It  is  a  fact, 
and  a  heart-cheering  fact,  that  he  who  died 
for  my  sins,  sets  a  high  value  on  my  love  ; 
a  love  that  many  a  fellow-worm  would  not 
take  at  my  hands,  that  scarcely  one  on  the 
earth  deems  worth  his  keeping  or  accept- 
ance. Poor  as  it  is,  and  poor  as  it  evci 
must  be,  my  Saviour  delights  in  it,  and  so 
delights  in  it,  that  his  happiness  even  on 
his  heavenly  throne,  would  i)e  marred  were 
he  to  lose  it.  "  He  taketh  pleasure,"  he 
tells  me,  '-in  them  that  fear  him,"  in  them 
that  merely  stand  in  awe  of  his  majesty  ;  how 
much  more  then  in  tliose  who  love  him ' 
who  love  him  in  that  character  which  forms 


156 


THE  RISEN  JESUS  QUESTIONING  PETER'S  LOVE. 


his  brightest  glory,  his  character  of  a  Sav- : 
iour  !  love  him  as  a  pardoned  sinner  loves  I 
hinn,  with  a  love  which,  mean  as  it  may  be, 
is  yet  such  as  no  angel  ever  experienced  ;  [ 
such  as  licaven  itself"  never  witnessed,  till  | 
it  glowed  there  in  a  sinner's  heart,  and  j 
burst  forth  there  in  praise  from  a  sinner's 
lips. 

2.  We  may  infer  again  that  Christ  has 
noio  a  special  claim  on  our  love. 

Previously  to  his  final  sufferings  and 
death,  he  does  not  appear  to  have  ever 
questioned  any  of  his  disciples  as  to  the 
state  of  their  affections  towards  himself. 
Tender  as  was  his  heart,  his  main  concern 
seems  to  have  been  that  they  might  be  obe- 
dient to  his  Father,  and  at  peace  among 
themselves.  But  when  for  their  sakes  he 
had  gone  to  Golgotha  and  Calvary,  when 
he  had  bled  in  the  garden,  and  expired  on 
the  cross,  and  laid  himself  down  in  the 
grave,  he  felt  and  acted  like  one  who  had 
now  earned  a  claim  on  a  sinner's  affection, 
and  such  a  claim  as  even  a  sinner's  heart, 
in  all  its  death-like  coldness,  could  not  re- 
sist. He  comes  out  of  the  tomb,  he  shows 
the  weeping  Peter  his  hands  and  his  side, 
and  then  he  says  to  him,  and  he  says  the 
same  to  every  one  of  us  who  has  heard  of 
his  agony  and  cross,  "  Lovest  thou  me  ?" 

We  have  been  told,  however,  that  all 
this  is  degrading ;  that  such  a  love  for 
Christ,  as  is  grounded  on  any  thing  he  has 
done  or  suffered  for  us,  is  base  ;  that  the 
only  affection  he  will  accept,  is  that  which 
takes  its  rise  from  admiration  of  his  excel- 
lences, the  attractions  of  his  human  nature 
and  the  glories  of  his  divine.  But  what 
will  not  men  say  when  they  have  a  theory 
to  uphold  or  a  conceit  lo  adorn  ?  The 
wisest  of  them  can  argue  readily  against 
his  own  experience,  and  dispute  against 
the  plainest  facts,  Wliat  can  these  rea- 
soners  know  of  their  own  hearts?  We 
feel  at  once  that  they  know  nothing  of  ours. 
They  are  more  fit  to  talk  to  adoring  seraphs 
than  to  men  like  us.  True,  the  blessed 
Jesus  is  "  altogether  lovely,"  "  fairer  than 
the  children  of  men"  or  the  angels  of  God. 
But  what  then  ?  All  the  blaze  of  glory 
with  which  our  imaginations  can  surround 
him  ;  all  the  moral  beauty  in  which  a  mind 
the  most  soaring  and  refined  can  invest 
him  ;  the  power  tliat  awes,  and  the  greatness 
that  overwhelms  ;  the  patience  that  never 
wearies,  and  the  compassion  that  never 
fails  ;  the  goodness  that  makes  us  wonder, 


and  the  holiness  that  makes  heaven  thrill; 
— all  this  does  not  come  home  to  a  sinner's 
heart  like  the  sorrow  at  Gethsemane,  and 
the  dying  groan  on  the  cross.  We  can  say 
with  the  worshipping  hosts  above  us,  and  al- 
most tremble  as  we  say  it,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy, 
Lord  God  almighty  !"  but  if  we  want  a 
song  that  will  call  forth  every  power  of 
our  souls,  and  bring  into  action  every  feel- 
ing of  our  hearts,  we  must  take  up  the 
language  of  the  ransomed  Paul,  "  He  loved 
us  and  gave. himself  for  us." 

Place  the  cross  in  whatever  light  we  may, 
there  is  no  exaggerating  its  importance  or 
its  power.  As  the  basis  of  love,  nothing 
even  in  heaven  is  like  it.  In  the  very  pres- 
ence of  Christ,  in  the  full  splendor  of  his 
glory  and  all  the  unveiled  brightness  of 
his  perfections,  they  that  see  him  as  he  is, 
ground  on  it  their  warmest  atlection  and 
their  loudest  praise.  It  is  still,  in  their 
estimation,  the  Redeemer's  highest  claim 
on  them  ;  it  constitutes  his  noblest  worth. 
"  Worthy,"  they  cry,  "  is  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain,  to  receive  honor,  and  glory,  and 
blessing."  Death  has  not  silenced  the 
song  they  loved  on  earth  ;  the  glories  of 
heaven  have  not  changed  it.  They  said 
then,  "  Unto  him  that  loved  us,  and  washed 
us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood,  to  him 
be  glory  and  dominion."  They  say  now, 
"  Thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us 
to  God  by  thy  blood."  "  Salvation  to  our 
God  which  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  un- 
to the  Lamb." 

3.  We  learn  also  from  this  reiterated 
question,  that  real  love  for  Christ  is  of  the 
very  utmosl  importance  to  us.  He  would 
not  have  made  so  much  of  a  trifle,  or  of 
any  thing  not  essential  to  our  happiness. 

And  yet  what  is  love?  It  is  nothing 
more  than  a  feeling.  Its  importance  arises 
from  the  place  it  holds  in  the  mind,  and  the 
influence  it  exercises  over  all  its  operations, 
over  every  other  feeling,  every  thought 
and  movement.  It  is  the  spring  of  action. 
All  we  do  comes  more  or  less  under  its 
power.  It  is  one  of  those  feelings  that 
assume  the  character  of  principles.  It  is, 
in  fact,  the  strongest  of  all  principles,  and 
capable  of  producing  the  greatest  results. 

No  wonder,  therefore,  that  when  Christ 
brings  a  sinner  to  his  feet,  the  first  thing 
he  asks  him  for  there,  is  his  heart ;  one  of 
the  first  things  he  takes,  is  his  love.  We 
nmst  love  him.  Love  for  him  is  not  an 
ornament ;   it  is  not  a  right  thing  merely, 


THE  RISEiN  JESUS  QUESTIONIXG  PETER'S  LOVE. 


157 


an  offering  in  which  Chridt  delights  and 
to  which  he  has  a  special  claim  ;  it  is  a 
necessary  thing ;  it  is  essential  to  the 
Christian  character  ;  it  is  the  very  life  and 
soul  of  all  true  religion.  It  is  religion  it- 
self, its  foundation,  its  spring,  its  strength, 
its  perfection,  its  glory.  Without  love,  we 
can  perform  none  of  the  duties  of  religion, 
never  taste  its  consolations,  never  be  capa- 
ble of  forming  even  a  conception  of  its 
eternal  joys.  Be  Christians  without  it? 
Brethren,  you  might  as  easily  breathe,  and 
have  nothing  to  do  with  air  ;  as  well  talk  of 
being  living  men,  without  a  body  or  asoul. 
Love  is  no  arbitrary  demand  of  heaven. 
Its  importance,  its  necessity,  both  lie  in  the 
very  nature  of  things.  God  must  annihi- 
late the  religion  of  his  Son,  leave  not  one 
particle  of  it  undestroyed  in  his  creation,  be- 
fore any  one  of  us  can  be  disciples  of  Christ, 
without  a  suprerae  love  for  Christ ;  before 
he  can  alter  this  declaration  of  his  Spirit, 
"  If  any  man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
let  him  be  accursed."  Such  a  man  is  ac- 
cursed. The  very  want  of  this  love  is  his 
curse.  It  is  a  want  of  every  thing  that  can 
rescue,  and  ennoble,  and  bless. 

4.  There  is  another  inference  to  be  drawn 
from  this  inquiry — our  love  for  Christ  is 
sometimes  questionable  and  ought  to  be  ques- 
tioned. 

Some  of  us  perhaps  object  to  this  conclu- 
sion. We  ask,  "  Who  does  not  love  his 
blessed  Lord?"  We  say  that  the  man  is 
no  better  than  a  heathen,  whose  love  for 
him  is  for  one  moment  doubtful.  But  look 
here.  Peter,  the  apostle  ;  Peter,  the  most 
zealous,  warm-iiearted,  of  all  the  apostles  ; 
the  man  who  had  felt  willing  to  die  for  his 
Master,  and  had  actually  drawn  his  sword 
against  an  armed  band  in  his  defence ;  this 
man  is  singled  out  by  Christ  to  have  his 
love  for  him  called  publicly  into  question, 
is  asked  by  Christ,  and  at  a  time  when  his 
soul  could  hardly  hold  the  love  he  cher- 
ished for  him,  whether  he  had  any  real 
love  for  him  at  all.  "Jesus  saith  unto 
him  the  third  time,  Lovest  thou  me  ?" 

No  matter  then  what  we  feel  or  have  felt, 
no  matter  how  much  the  Saviour  has  hon- 
ored us  or  how  much  he  has  enabled  us  to 
honor  him,  we  must  be  willing  to  have  the 
state  of  our  minds  towards  him  looked  into  ; 
we  must  be  anxious  to  look  into  it  ourselves; 
not  shrinking  away  from  the  probe,  not  rest- 
less under  our  neighbor's  scrutiny  or  our 
own,  but  willing  to  come  into  the  light,  de- 


siring nothing  more  than  to  get  into  the 
light,  thankful  to  every  minister  or  friend 
who  fljrces  us  to  ask  ourselves  whether  we 
love  Christ  or  not,  and  never  so  thankful 
to  him,  as  when  we  are  stirred  up  to  the 
closest  self-examination.  O  what  a  iiappy 
people  should  we  be,  if  every  one  of  us 
were  often  to  leave  this  house  of  God  in- 
quiring and  praying  !  Some  of  us  might 
lose  for  a  time  a  little  peace  of  mind,  others 
still  more  of  self-complacency  ;  but  what 
are  these  things  worth  when  inquiry  dis- 
turbs  them,  when  thought  shakes  them, 
when  prayer  annihilates  them  ?  Better  to 
lose  every  peaceful,  every  pleasurable  feel- 
ing we  know,  every  comfort  we  enjoy,  and 
every  earthly  good  we  hope  for,  than  live 
deceived ;  than  die  with  nothing  but  "  a 
lie  in  our  right  hand,"  mistaking  a  sliadow 
for  a  substance,  a  name  for  a  reality,  a 
show  of  godliness  for  its  power. 

II.  We  come  now  to  the  ansrver  which 
Peter  gave  to  the  inquiry  of  his  Lord. 

From  this  we  infer  at  once,  that  it  is  a 
question  which  may  be  answered.  It  is 
not  only  possible,  but,  under  some  circum- 
stances, easy  to  answer  it ;  and  that  in  the 
midst  of  infirmities,  and  all  those  humilia- 
ting and  perplexing  feelings  connected  with 
a  remembrance  of  sin.  Thrice  said  Christ 
to  Peter,  "  Lovest  thou  me  ?"  and  thrice 
Peter  answered  with  promptitude  and  firm- 
ness, that  he  did  love  him.  It  mattered  not 
how  low  he  had  fallen,  how  grievously  he 
had  sinned,  how  cutting  a  sense  he  still  had 
of  his  transgressions,  or  how  pointedly  he 
had  been  reproved  ;  he  meets  the  question 
without  one  moment's  shrinking ;  he  appeals 
to  him  who,  he  was  aware,  well  knew  his 
heart  and  was  thus  wounding  it  by  his  reit- 
erated inquiries  ;  he  says  with  all  that  con- 
sciousness of  sincerity  which  heartfelt  love 
inspires,  "  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things ; 
thou  knowest  that  I  love  thee." 

How  then,  under  similar  circumstances, 
may  we  come  to  a  similar  answer  ?  In 
other  words,  how  may  a  man  discover  in 
himself,  amidst  convictions  of  sin,  and  shame 
and  sorrow  on  account  of  it,  real  love  for 
his  Saviour? 

1.  We  love  him  rohcn  we  mourn  bitterly 
for  our  sins  against  him. 

Nothing  pains  a  feeling  heart  more  than 
to  ofTend  causelessly  a  heart  it  loves,  and 
when  that  provocation  is  gross  and  repeated, 
and  yet  forgiven,  and  passed  over,  and  to 
all  appearance  forgotten,  none  but  ourselves 


158 


THE  RIS1:N  JE.SUS  QCIvSTIOMXU   PETHirs  LOVE. 


can  tell  how  keen  and  almost  intolerable 
tjne  recollection  of  it  becomes.  Forgive- 
ness cannot  wear  our  pain  away,  kindness 
cannot  dissipate  it ;  they  sometimes  rather 
aggravate  than  remove  it.  Now  sin  is  ai, 
ofFence  against  ('lirist.  It  is  like  Peter's 
crime,  a  denial  of  him,  a  disiionor  done  to 
him,  a  shameful  and  execrable  tiling.  The 
heart,  therefore,  tliat  loves  Christ,  bitterly 
deplores  its  transgressions.  It  is  conscious 
of  a  treachery,  and  ingratitude,  and  base- 
ness, which  make  it  loathsome.  It  can 
hardly  bear  with  its  own  vilencss.  It  is 
more  than  saddened,  it  is  sometimes  racked, 
with  a  feeling  of  its  desperate  wickedness. 
Go  out  once  in  his  life  like  Peter,  and  weep 
bitterly?  Such  a  man  at  times  can  hardly 
weep  at  all  ;  his  sorrow  for  his  sin  over- 
whelms him.  It  can  be  expressed  only  in 
misery  and  prayer. 

Are  any  of  you,  bi-ethren,  men  of  this 
stamp  ?  Are  you  often  and  deeply  de- 
ploring your  guilt  ?  Is  sin  against  Christ, 
against  redeeming  grace  and  saving  jnercy, 
your  sorest  aflliction,  your  keenest  sorrow  ? 
Then  you  love  him.  You  could  not  have 
a  surer  mark  of  a  holy  affection  for  him. 
The  songs  of  heaven,  could  they  come 
from  your  lips,  would  not  say  more  plainly, 
"  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things ;  thou  know- 
est  that  I  lovo  thee." 

2.  We  love  Christ  7vhcn  we  are  especially 
on  our  guard  against  a  rr.prtilion  of  those 
shis  wherewith  we  have  dishonored  him. 

Every  man  has  his  besetting  evil  ;  some 
sin,  into  which,  owing  to  his  natural  dispo- 
sition or  his  habits  or  circumstances,  he  is 
most  prone  to  fall.  Peter's  was  self-confi- 
dence. Our  Lord  accordingly  tries  him 
in  this  weak  point.  He  had  said  before 
that  though  all  the  other  apostles  should  for- 
sake their  Master,  he  never  would  ;  no,  he 
would  rather  die  with  him,  than  deny  him. 
He  has  now  a  fair  opportunity  of  making 
the  same  declaration  again.  He  is  almost 
invited  to  make  it.  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas," 
asks  the  Saviour,  "  lovest  thou  me  more 
than  these  ?"  "  I  have  shown  thee  greater 
favor  than  I  have  shown  to  tiiese  thy  breth- 
ren ;  I  have  pardoned  in  thee  greater  sins  ; 
hast  thou  for  me  greater  love  ?"  But  Peter 
would  not  be  overcome  a  second  time.  With 
a  deep  humjlity,  with  an  admirable  self- 
command,  he  waives  that  part  of  the  ques- 
tion altogether.  No  more  catching  at  an 
opportunity  for  display,  he  makes  no  pre- 
tensions to  a  warmer  love  tlian  his  fellow- 


disciples  possessed,  I)ut  says  what  from  hi3 
inmost  soul  he  knew  and  felt  to  be  true, 
"  Yea,  Lord ;  tliou  knowest  that  I  love 
thee." 

A  similar  spirit  in  us  will  warrant  a  simi. 
lar  conclusion.  You  have  fallen  perhaps, 
brethren,  into  some  lieavv  transgression, 
some  mournful  error  of  heart  or  life.  It 
has  pleased  God  to  show  you  your  guilt. 
Now  if  you  have  no  true  love  for  tiie  Lord 
Jesus,  nothing  is  more  easy  tlian  to  tell  you 
how  you  will  act.  You  will  be  disgusted, 
it  may  be,  with  yourselves  for  an  hour  or 
a  day,  and  then  the  first  favorable  o])por. 
tunity  that  presents  itself,  you  will  fall 
again  into  the  very  sin  which  you  profess 
to  deplore.  And  thus,  unless  God  inter- 
feres,  you  will  go  on  to  your  dying  day — 
your  conscience  struggling  against  vour 
practice,  and  then  again  your  practice 
wounding  your  conscience  ;  your  mind 
never  at  rest,  and  your  conduct  never  de- 
cided, and  your  character  ever  doubtful. 
But  take  a  man  who  really  loves  his  Lord, 
and  overcome  him  by  temptation  ;  lead  him, 
in  some  unguarded  hour,  to  act  contrary 
to  his  high  and  holy  calling ;  and  then  mark 
his  conduct.  He  will  ever  after  shun  you, 
and  he  will  shun  every  approach  to  that  sin 
into  which  you  have  drawn  him.  There 
will  be  no  reasoning  with  you  about  the 
matter,  no  more  tampering  with  it ;  no  more 
asking,  "  H^ow  far  can  I  go  ?  How  near 
may  I  approach  evil  ?"  He  says  now, 
"  How  far  can  I  get  away  ?"  There  will 
be  a  hatred  of  the  accursed  thing  ;  there 
will  be  kept  up  in  that  man's  heart  a  spirit 
of  watchfulness  and  prayer  against  it,  a  de- 
termination to  avoid  it,  which  the  world 
may  ridicule  and  the  great  tempter  assail, 
but  which,  by  God's  help,  neither  earth  nor 
hell  can  shake.  And  this  proves  the  re- 
ality  of  his  love.  It  establishes  the  upright- 
ness of  liis  character.  It  wari'ants  him 
again  to  say,  "  Lord,  thou  knowest  all 
things;  thou  knowest  that  1  love  thee." 

3.  We  may  be  assured  that  we  love  the 
Saviour,  when  no  sin,  no  sorrow  on  accounl 
of  sin,  no  state  of  inind  whatsoever  can  keep 
us  from  his  feet. 

Do  we  love  a  fellow-creature  ?  ^Ve  long 
to  be  with  him.  If  our  love  for  him  is  ar- 
dent, separation  from  him  is  painful  ;  we 
overcome  difficulties  in  order  to  get  into 
contact  with  liim,  and  when  in  his  society, 
his  mere  presence  becomes  a  source  of 
pleasure.    A  real  attachment  for  Christ  acts 


THE  RISEN  JESUS  QUESTIONING  PETERS  LOVE. 


159 


towards  Christ  precisely  in  this  way.  The 
soul  thirsts  for  him  ;  it  longs  to  be  witli 
iiiin,  to  have  some  consciousness  of  his  pre- 
sence with  it,  and  some  communion  with  his 
Spirit.  Nor  does  a  sense  of  guilt  long  or 
materially  interrupt  this  ilesire.  For  a  mo- 
ment perhaps  or  an  hour,  it  may  cause  a 
man  to  dread  his  Bible  and  his  closet,  but 
wliere  love  is,  this  dread  is  soon  over.  The 
soul  again  turns  to  its  redeeming  Saviour, 
turns  to  him  with  deeper  emotions  and 
stronger  desires  than  it  ever  knew  before  ; 
inquires  for  him,  laments  after  him,  would 
give  up  ten  thousand  worlds  if  it  had  them, 
once  more  to  repose  in  its  former  assui'ance 
of  his  pardon  and  sense  of  his  favor. 

We  might  have  supposed  that  after  such 
conduct  as  Peter  had  exhibited,  we  should 
have  heard  no  more  of  him  ;  that  he  would 
have  concealed  himself  and  his  shame  far 
from  his  fellow-disciples  amid  the  moun- 
tains and  lakes  of  Galilee ;  but  this  man 
was  the  first  in  his  Master's  forsaken  grave, 
he  manifested  a  stronger  desire  than  any 
of  his  brethren,  to  be  again  by  his  side. 
Behold  him  as  he  is  represented  in  the  be- 
ginning of  tliis  chapter.  Several  of  the 
disciples  were  fishing  together  on  the  sea 
of  Tiberias.  The  Lord  came  and  stood 
near  them  on  the  shore.  After  a  while 
John  recognises  him.  "It  is  the  Lord," 
he  says  to  Peter.  The  next  moment  Peter 
plunges  into  the  sea,  and  is  at  his  Master's 
feet.  James,  and  John,  and  Thomas,  and 
the  rest  of  them,  can  row  their  boats  and 
drag  their  nets  calmly  and  leisurely,  but 
what  are  nets  and  boats  to  this  pardoned, 
contrite,  fervent  soul  ?  He  "  loved  much, 
for  much  had  been  forgiven"  him,  and  re- 
gardless of  every  thing  else,  he  springs  at 
once  to  his  adored  Lord. 

It  is  well  with  us  when  sorrow  for  sin 
leads  us  to  Christ,  when  tears  lead  to  pray- 
ers, when  nights  of  weeping  and  shame 
become  nights  of  thirsting  after  God  and 
his  forgiving  mercy. 

And  now,  men  and  brethren,  turn  to  your- 
selves. How  stands  the  case  with  you  ? 
If  the  risen  Jesus  should  put  this  question 
to  each  of  you  this  day,  "  Lovest  thou  me  ?" 
could  you  return  him  Peter's  answer?  could 
you  say,  "  Thou  who  knowest  all  things, 
knowest  that  I  love  thee  ?" 

You  must  be  aware  that  in  the  evidences 
of  attachment  to  Christ  which  have  now 
been  mentioned  to  you,  we  could  not  well 
have  taken  lower  ground.  The  Bible  speaks 


of  keeping  God's  commandments,  of  a  reso- 
lute  devotedness  to  his  .service  in  heart  and 
life,  and  insists  on  that  as  the  best  evidence 
of  love  for  liim  ;  but  you  have  iieard  of 
nothing  more  to-day  than  a  soriow  for  sin, 
a  dread  of  sin,  an  earnest  seeking  for  a 
Saviour.  If  you  are  destitute  of  these 
things,  be  assured  that  you  are  equally 
destitute  of  any  true  regard  for  the  Being 
who  made  you,  the  Redeemer  who  bled 
for  you,  the  God  who  will  be  your  Judge. 
Love  can  never  be  separated  from  its  natu- 
ral fruits  and  efTects.  A  dead  faith  is  an 
absnrdity  ;  a  dead,  inoperative  love  is  ten- 
fold more  absurd.  A  love  without  power 
or  feeling,  a  love  that  seldom  thinks  of  its 
object,  that  never  delights  in  him.  that  can 
oflend  him  without  compunction,  and  live 
estranged  from  him  without  sorrow,  and 
would  not  lose  one  atom  of  its  hajjpiness  if 
he  were  annihilated ;  can  you  seriously  call 
this  a  real  affection  ?  Can  you  for  one 
moment  think  that  he  who  commands  you 
to  love  him  with  all  your  heart,  and  soul, 
and  strength,  will  accept  or  acknowledge 
it?  OfTer  it  to  your  friend,  tender  it  to  any 
of  your  fellow-worms  ;  there  is  not  one  of 
them,  who  would  not  reject  it  with  scorn, 
and  give  you  in  return  for  it  his  pity  or 
contempt.  And  ought  that  to  pass  for  a 
supreme  love  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
which  would  not  pass  for  common  friend- 
ship among  men  ?  Will  that  love  do  for 
heaven,  which  is  not  good  enough  for  earth? 

Brethren,  the  safety  of  many  among  you 
lies  in  coming  to  a  conviction  of  this  fact, 
not  that  your  love  for  the  Saviour  is  imper- 
fect, weak,  and  cold;  but  that  you  have  no 
love  at  all  for  him  ;  that  you  are  actu- 
ally in  a  state  of  enmity  against  him  and 
his  ways  ;  an  enmity  concealed  from  your- 
selves perhaps  under  a  form  of  religion, 
never  hinted  at  by  your  neighbors,  but  as 
real,  and  as  deadly,  and,  unless  you  take 
heed,  as  permanent,  as  sin  can  make  it.  It 
is  deeply  seated  in  your  nature.  No  power 
but  the  regenerating  power  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  can  root  it  out.  A  new  heart  is  as 
necessary  for  you,  as  your  daily  fond,  more 
needful  than  air  or  light.  Of  all  the  things 
you  ever  heard  of,  j'ou  need  it  the  most. 
May  a  gracious  God  lead  you  to  seek  it ! 

To  you  who  really  love  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  who,  notwithstanding  your 
occasional  misgivings,  have  good  evidence 
of  your  love  for  him,  how  sweet  must  be 
the  consciousness  of  this  afTection  !     It  is 


160 


THE  CHRISTIAN  TAUGHT  TO  PRAY. 


not  an  unroquitod  love.  It  is  the  efffct  of 
such  a  love  for  you  existing  in  the  divine 
mind,  as  could  satisfy  ten  thousand  hearts  ; 
such  a  love  as  you  have  sought  perhaps 
all  your  life  long  on  earth,  and  never 
found.  It  is  more ;  it  is  stronger  and 
warmer.  No  created  mind  can  compre- 
hend it.  You  cannot  fathom  its  depth, 
you  can  scarcely  form  a  conception  of  its 
tenderness,  you  can  set  no  bounds  to  its 
activity,  you  will  never  see  its  end. 

And  then  add  to  this  blessed  truth  yet 
another.  Your  love  for  Christ  not  only 
springs  out  of  his  love  to  you,  he  conde- 
scends to  speak  of  it  as,  in  its  turn,  drawing 
forth  his  affection,  and  bringing  him  nearer 
to  you.  "If  any  man  will  love  me,"  he 
says,  "  my  Father  will  love  him,  and  we 
will  come  unio  him,  and  make  our  abode 
with  him."  Here  is  a  promise  of  the 
divine  presence  with  you  in  this  world ; 
and,  dark  as  the  world  is,  what  more  can 
5^ou  desire  ?  Christ  in  heaven  makes 
heaven  a  world  of  joy,  and  Christ  in  the 
soul,  be  it  where  it  may,  is  the  soul's 
'lappiness  and  rest.  Beyond  this  world, 
your  blessedness  is  sure.  Love  is  the  one 
grand  qualification  for  the  enjoyment  of 
God.  It  gives  the  soul  a  capability  of 
entering  into  the  pursuits  of  his  kingdom, 
it  opens  the  heart  to  its  joys.  It  becomes 
therefore  something  more  to  the  Christian 
than  a  duty,  or  a  badge,  or  a  source  of 
delight ;  it  is  a  warrant  and  foretaste  of 
heaven.  A  righteous  God  will  never 
exclude  from  that  blessed  world  one  among 
his  creatures,  to  whom  he  has  first  given 
a  meetness  for  its  happiness.  It  is  a  world 
of  love.  If  you  can  be  happy  in  it,  you 
will  assuredly  see  it ;  you  will  receive  in 
it  that  "  crown  of  life,  which  the  Lord 
hath  promised  to  them  that  love  him." 


SERMON    XXX. 

THE  CHRISTIAN  TAUGHT  TO  PRAY. 

St.  Luke  xi.  I. 
Lardy  teach  us  to  pray. 

Perhaps,  brethren,  there  is  as  much  of 
the  reality  of  religion  in  these  few  words, 
as  in  any  words  uttered  by  our  Lord's 
disciples  before  he  left  them.     They  indi- 


I  cate  more  than  meets  the  ear — a  mind 
taught  of  God  ;  convictions  and  feelings 
which  accorded  well  with  the  situation  of 
these  men,  and  accord  as  well  with  our 
own.  O  that  they  were  found  among  us 
in  every  breast !  God  would  be  worshipped 
here  as  he  has  never  been  worshipped  by 
us  yet.  We  should  be  the  happiest  people, 
and  this  the  most  blessed  congregation, 
under  the  canopy  of  heaven. 

Let  us  inquire,  first,  what  the  request 
in  the  text  implies  ;  and,  secondly,  in  what 
way,  when  we  offer  it,  we  may  expect  it 
to  be  answered. 

I.  1.  It  implies  a  conviction  of  the  im- 
porfance  of  prayer.  I  mean,  a  lively, 
heartfelt  conviction  of  its  importance. 

And  this,  in  the  case  before  us,  seems 
to  have  had  its  origin  mainly  in  the  habits 
and  example  of  Ciirist.  He  prayed  often 
and  much.  He  prayed  in  his  sorrow,  and 
he  prayed  in  his  joy.  He  prayed  alone, 
and  he  prayed  with  his  disciples ;  amidst 
the  throng  of  men,  and  in  the  "solitary 
place."  We  read  of  his  rising  up  "  a 
great  while  before  day  to  pray,"  of  his 
praying  "  in  the  evening,"  of  his  "  con- 
tinuing all  night  in  prayer."  And  this 
under  circumstances  so  extraordinary  [ — 
without  a  sin  for  which  he  needed  pardon, 
without  a  want  which  his  own  right  hand 
could  not  supply.  The  natural  conse- 
quence was,  his  disciples  who  witnessed 
much  of  this  unceasing  devotion,  were 
struck  by  it,  and  impressed.  They  began 
to  feel  that  they  also  must  pray  ;  that 
what  was  necessary  for  their  Lord,  was 
necessary  for  them  ;  that  what  was  good 
for  his  soul,  would  be  good  also  for  theirs. 
They  accordingly  took  this  feeling  to 
Christ,  and  under  the  influence  of  it,  they 
sought  of  him  instruction.  "  It  came  to 
pass,"  says  the  evangelist,  "  that  as  he  was 
praying  in  a  certain  place,  when  he  ceased, 
one  of  his  disciples  said  unto  him,"  in  the 
name  and  probably  by  the  desire  of  the 
rest,  "  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray." 

And  there  is  not  a  pardoned  sinner  on 
the  earth,  not  a  man  among  ourselves 
really  in  the  way  to  heaven,  in  whose 
mind  a  similar  conviction  has  not  been 
wrought.  You  do  not  think  of  prayer, 
Christian  brethren,  as  men  in  general 
think  of  it,  nor  as  you  yourselves  once 
thought  of  it.  You  always  perhaps  deemed 
it  good  and  right ;  you  would  no  more  have 
denied  its  necessity  to  a  dependent  and  guilty 


THE  CHRISTIAN  TAUGHT  TO  PRAY. 


161 


creature,  than  you  would  have  donipd  the 
necessity  of  water  to  the  parched  African, 
or  of  fire  to  the  shivering  inhabitant  of  the 
pole :  but  that  estimate  of  pKayer  was 
taiight  you  by  others  ;  at  best,  it  was  the 
dictate  of  reason  and  your  own  f^ood  sense  ; 
now  you  feel  its  importance.  It  is  become 
a  matter  not  of  judgment  only,  but  of  ex- 
p'-rience.  You  are  acquainted  with  your 
need  of  prayer,  just  as  that  African  be- 
comes acquainted  with  his  need  of  water, 
or  the  Greenlander  with  his  need  of  fire, 
or  the  beg<i;ar  in  our  streets  with  his  need 
of  alms,  or  you  yourselves  with  your  need 
of  food  and  air.  You  know  now  what 
prayer  can  do  for  you.  It  has  saved  you 
from  so  many  perils,  obtained  for  you  so 
many  mercies,  rolled  off  from  you  so 
many  burdens,  comforted  you  in  so  many 
griefs,  sweetened  to  you  so  many  blessings, 
brought  you  at  times  so  near  God,  and  God 
and  iieaven  so  near  you,  that  you  have  no 
power  to  tell  what  you  think  of  prayer. 
In  your  estimation,  the  earth  would  be  a 
scene  of  unbroken  darkness  without  it, 
and  you  cut  off  in  the  earth  from  your 
sweetest  and  brightest  joys ;  nay,  from 
your  safety  and  your  hope.  You  would 
feel  yourselves,  without  prayer,  to  be 
abandoned  sinners  in  an  abandoned  world. 

2.  This  request  implies  also  some 
knowledge  of  the  real  nature  of  prayer. 

It  is  not  easy  to  ascertain  the  precise 
extent  of  its  meaning.  Some  have  con- 
ceived that  it  expresses  nothing  more  than 
a  desire  for  a  form  of  supplication  ;  but 
the  Pharisees,  or  those  whom  John  had 
taught  to  pray,  could  have  given  the  dis- 
ciples this.  Besides,  these  men  were 
Jews,  and  as  such  it  is  hardly  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  they  were  cither  ignorant 
of  the  formularies  of  devotion  in  common 
use  among  their  countrymen,  or  so  en- 
lightened as  to  be  dissatisfied  with  them. 
The  probability  is,  that  they  had  discovered 
at  length  the  insufficiency  of  all  forms,  or 
rather  of  their  own  formal  mode  of  employ, 
ing  them.  They  had  heard  their  Master 
pray.  They  had  witnessed  his  fervor,  the 
seriousness,  the  abasement,  and  perhaps 
something  of  the  elevation,  of  his  spirit  in 
his  supplications  ;  and  their  understandings 
were  opened.  Prayer  appeared  to  them 
in  a  new  light.  Before,  it  was  a  cere- 
mony ;  it  was  now  an  inward,  spiritual 
service.  They  regarded  it  for  the  first 
time  as  the  work  of  the  heart  j  and  con- 
21 


I  scious  that  their  own  hearts  had  hitherto 
been  but  little  engaged  in  it,  their  request 
was,  "  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray."  They 
wished  their  prayers  to  be  in  future  of  a 
higher  and  more  spiritual  character ;  and 
beyond  this,  they  scarcely  knew  j)erhaps 
their  own  meaning  or  object. 

And  your  views  of  prayer,  brethren,  if 
you  have  learned  any  thing  aright  of  its  na- 
ture, have  undergone  precisely  this  change. 
There  was  a  time  when  a  form  of  sound 
words,  and  a  somewhat  serious  mind,  con- 
tented you.  More  than  this  you  had  heard 
of,  but  you  never  knew  and  never  cared 
what  it  meant.  At  last  came  the  light  of 
God's  Holy  Spirit  into  your  soul,  and  then 
came  with  it  new  and  startling  views  of 
this  duty.  "  I  have  never  prayed  at  all," 
you  now  said.  "  I  have  never  even  under- 
stood what  prayer  means.  I  thought  it  was 
the  bending  of  the  knee  and  the  utterance  of 
the  lips ;  words  well  selected  and  solemnly 
pronounced;  but  now  I  see  my  mistake. 
Prayer  is  the  utterance  of  the  heart ;  it  is. 
a  deep  feeling  within  a  man  of  his  wants, 
and  poverty,  and  helplessness  ;  it  is  the- 
turning  of  a  desolate  spirit  to  its  Creator 
and  Saviour;  it  is  a  following  hard  after 
God  ;  it  is  drawing  near  to  him,  holding 
intercourse  with  him,  pouring  out  the  heart 
before  him,  a  striving  to  fill  an  empty  soul 
out  of  his  fulness." 

Do  any  of  you  ask  what  prayer  is  ? 
Look  at  the  publican  in  the  temple.  "  Stand- 
ing  afar  off,  he  would  not  lift  up  so  much 
as  his  eyes  unto  heaven,  but  smote  upon 
his  breast,  saying,  God  be  merciful  to  me 
a  sinner !" — that  was  prayer.  Look  at 
blind  Bartimeus  sitting  by  the  highway 
side  near  Jericho.  He  cried  out  so  that 
none  could  silence  him,  "  Jesus,  thou  son 
of  David,  have  mercy  on  me  !" — that  too 
was  prayer.  Look  at  Peter.  As  he  was 
sinking  in  the  waves  on  the  sea  of  Galilee, 
"  Lord,"  he  exclaimed,  "save  me  !" — and 
that  also  was  prayer.  And  if  you  turn  to 
yourselves,  that  was  not  prayer  which  you 
once  thought  so  devout  and  hoped  so  much 
from  ;  those  words  of  almost  heavenly  fer- 
vor taught  you  by  our  church,  and  repeat- 
ed by  you  so  seriously  in  the  house  and  at 
the  altar  of  your  Lord.  Think  of  the 
time  when  you  felt  as  though  you  could 
not  pray  at  all  ;  that  time  of  bereavement 
and  sorrow,  when  every  earthly  solace 
seemed  gone,  and  every  prop  broken,  and 
every  hope  crushed ;  when  you  were  so 


162 


THE  CHRISTIAN  TAUGHT  TO  PRAY. 


wretched,  that  you  knew  nnt  how  to  bear 
your  wretchedness,  and  were  forced,  as 
your  heart  was  well-nigh  breakuig,  to  cast 
yourselves  on  God  and  say,  though  you 
could  say  no  more,  "  Lord,  help  me."  If 
ever  you  have  prayed,  brethren,  you  prayed 
then.  That  was  indeed  prayer,  and  like 
that,  if  you  are  men  of  prayer  now,  are 
your  daily  supplications.  They  may  not 
always  have  in  them  equal  earnestness,  but 
they  are  still  like  that  half-despairing  cry 
of  misery — tliere  is  feeling  in  them  ;  they 
have  meaning  and  life. 

3.  An  impression  too  of  the  difficuUy  of 
frayer  is  plainly  to  be  traced  in  the  disci- 
ples' words.  And  this  undoubtedly  sprung 
out  of  their  conviction  of  its  importance, 
and  their  newly  acquired  knowledge  of  its 
real  nature.  That  which  is  so  important 
must,  they  concluded,  be  done  aright ;  and 
that  which  is  so  spiritual,  they  were  con- 
scious they  could  not  do  at  all  ;  and  thus 
they  were  constrained  to  seek  help  and 
instruction.  "Lord,"  they  said,  "teach  us 
to  pray." 

It  is  an  affecting  thought  that  in  a  situa- 
tion like  ours,  we  should  be  unable  even 
to  ask  for  the  mercies  we  so  urgently  need  ; 
and  this  thought  becomes  still  more  sad- 
dening, when  we  reflect  that  our  inability 
to  pray  arises  chiefly  out  of  the  mournful 
state  of  our'own  minds.  It  is  true  that  our 
situation  itself  has  something  to  do  with  it. 
The  God  to  whom  our  supplications  must 
•be  made,  is  an  unseen  Being.  We  are 
■creatures  of  sense,  and  find  it  hard  even  to 
realize  the  presence  of  One  whose  "voice 
we  have  not  heard  at  any  time,  nor  seen 
■his  shape,"  much  more  to  conceive  of  him 
as  interested  in  our  petitions.  But  this  is 
not  going  to  the  root  of  the  matter. 

Prayer,  when  real,  is  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  our  indigence;  it  is  a  confession 
of  etnptincss  and  weakness;  and  our  proud 
minds  cannot  stoop  to  abasement  like  this. 
It  is  impossible  they  should  stoop  to  it ; 
for  which  of  us  has  by  nature  the  faintest 
conception  that  his  helplessness  is  so  real 
and  great,  as  to  render  such  humiliation 
needful?  We  are  not  aware  even  of  our 
wants.  The  divine  bounty  so  constantly 
supplies  some  of  them,  that  they  are  never 
felt ;  and  as  for  the  others,  tliey  arc  the 
wants  of  our  souls,  and  for  those  souls  we 
have  neither  a  care  nor  a  thought. 

Besides,  prayer  is  giving  glory  to  God, 
and  we  do  not  love  God.     It  is  placinfr  a 


Being  with  whom  our  carnal  minds  are  at 
enmity,  not  only  above  us,  but  so  high 
above  us,  that  he  becomes  every  thing 
and  ourselves  nothing.  And  more — it  is  a 
voluntary  going  into  his  presence,  bring- 
ing ourselves  into  actual  contact  with  the 
holiest  Being  in  the  universe ;  and  sin 
makes  us  wish  to  have  nothing  to  do  with 
that  Being  ;  we  should  rejoice  to  get  out 
of  his  sight,  and,  were  it  possible,  out  of  his 
dominions  ;  to  live  in  some  world  where 
neither  his  law  nor  his  power  could  reach. 

And  hence  the  difficulty  of  prayer.  It 
would  be  easy  did  our  hearts  feel  aright, 
but  their  feelings  are  altogether  wrong; 
they  are  full  of  every  thing  that  is  opposed 
to  prayer,  and  their  workings  must  be  con- 
trolled and  changed,  our  hearts  themselves 
must  be  re-created  by  the  power  of  the  Ho- 
ly Ghost,  before  any  one  of  us  can  offer  up 
one  real  petition  to  the  God  who  made  him. 
And  even  then,  prayer  will  often  be  found 
no  easy  thing.  The  darkened  mind,  and 
the  cold  heart,  and  the  self-exalting,  earth- 
bound  spirit,  will  either  turn  away  from  it, or 
give  it  a  wrong  direction  and  aim,  or  mar 
it,  and  reduce  it  again  to  form  and  pre- 
tence. The  true  Christian  knows  this  but 
too  well.  He  feels  something  of  it  every 
day.  When  the  apostle  says,  "  We  know 
not  what  to  pray  for  as  we  ought,"  he  can 
understand  him.  The  words  of  Elihu  to 
Job  are  the  words  that  often  suit  him  well, 
"  Teach  us  what  we  shall  say  unto  him, 
for  we  cannot  order  our  speech  by  reason 
of  darkness."  Hence  he  often  prays  that 
he  may  be  able  to  pray.  Half  the  prayers 
he  offers  up  are  begun  with  this  petition,  or 
some  petition  like  it,  "  Lord,  teach  me  to 
pray.  My  soul  cleaveth  unto  the  dust; 
quicken  thou  me,  according  to  thy  word. 
Chase  away  this  ignorance,  this  strange 
insensibility,  from  my  mind.  Show  me  my 
wants,  my  errors,  and  my  sins.  Make  me 
feel  before  thee  as  a  vile,  needy,  helpless 
worm."  The  request  before  us  evidently 
breathes  this  spirit. 

4.  Besides  intimating  a  conviction  of  the 
importance,  the  real  nature,  and  the  diffi- 
culty of  prayer,  it  plainly  indicates  also 
a  desire  for  an  increased  ahility  to  pray. 

We  must  not  suppose  that  the  disciples 
had  lived  to  this  hour,  with  such  a  teacher 
as  Christ,  in  utter  ignorance  or  in  habitual 
disregard  of  this  obvious  duty.  The  very 
request  they  here  make,  goes  fixr  to  prove 
the  reverse.     It  is  itself  a  prayer.     While 


THE  CHRISTIAN  TALUaiT  TO  PRAY. 


163 


it  implies  conscious  ignorance  and  inability, 
it  implies  also  something  of  the  spirit  of 
supplication  already  possessed.  But  these 
men  felt  that  they  had  yet  much  to  learn. 
They  were  not  satisfied  with  themselves. 
They  wished  to  experience  more  of  the 
power  of  prayer  ;  to  pray  more  like  their 
Master,  with  livelier  feeling,  deeper  hu- 
mility, greater  enjoyment  and  success. 

And  is  not  such,  brethren,  the  desire  of 
your  own  hearts  ?  If  you  have  been  taught 
to  pray  at  all,  you  are  not  satisfied  with 
your  performance  of  this  duty.  On  the 
contrary,  you  arc  heartily  and  deeply 
ashamed  of  it.  Your  prayers  seem  to  you 
nothing  better  than  a  miserable  trifling 
with  things  of  tremendous  import,  a  daring 
vnockery  of  heaven.  You  can  hardly  call 
i-hem  prayers.  When  you  think  of  the 
mercies  you  have  so  coldly  supplicated 
Ml  them,  you  are  constrained  to  say,  "  I 
have  talked,  I  have  knelt,  I  have  some- 
limes  wept ;  but  O  how  seldom  have  I 
prayed  !  What  should  I  be,  if  the  blood 
of  Christ  did  not  cleanse  me  from  the  sins 
I  have  committed  on  my  knees  ?" 

Nor  are  you  yet  satisfied  with  the  bless- 
edness you  have  found  in  prayer.  Much 
as  you  experience  in  it  to  refresh  and  de- 
light you,  nothing  you  experience  fully 
meets  your  desires.  You  are  always,  even 
in  your  happiest  moments,  craving  for 
more  ;  nay,  in  those  moments,  the  thirstings 
of  your  soul  after  God  are  the  strongest. 
The  more  you  enjoy  of  his  presence,  the 
more  you  wish  to  enjoy. 

The  effect  of  all  this  is  a  most  earnest 
anxiety  for  a  more  supplicating,  devotional 
frame  of  mind.  There  is  nothing  on  earth 
you  really  long  for  more  than  to  pray 
more,  to  have  closer  and  more  frequent 
intercourse  with  a  heavenly  world,  to  feel 
more  at  home  at  your  Saviour's  feet.  Other 
graces  and  attainments  of  your  Christian 
brethren,  you  admire  and  would  fain  pos- 
sess. You  would  rejoice  to  speak  like  one 
of  them  in  your  Master's  praise  ;  you  often 
sigh  for  the  strength  which  enables  another 
to  labor  so  arduously  in  your  Master's  ser- 
vice ;  but  take  you  aside,  and  ask  you  in 
a  sober  moment,  which  of  them  all  you 
most  desire  to  resemble,  you  would  think 
of  some  humble,  deeply-tried  servant  of 
your  Lord,  and  say,  "  O  let  my  soul  be  in 
his  soul's  stead  !  Let  me  pray  as  that  man 
prays.  Let  me  have  that  fervor,  that  holy 
delight    in   my   closet,  which   he   finds   in 


I  his."  Nay,  were  your  Redeemer  once 
I  more  on  earth,  did  you  hear  him  preaching 
his  wonderful  sermons,  did  you  see  him  per- 
I  forming  his  marvellous  works,  your  wish 
j  would  not  be,  "O  that  I  could  preach,  O 
]  that  I  could  work  miracles,  like  Christ!" 
No  ;  you  would  follow  him  to  the  mountain 
or  the  desert ;  you  would  look  at  him  when 
most  resembling  yourselves,  struggling,  and 
weeping,  and  pouring  out  his  soul  in  suppli- 
cation ;  and  your  desire  would  be,  "O  let 
me  pray  like  my  Master !  Lord,  teach  me 
to  pray." 

n.  We  pass  on  now  to  our  second  in- 
quiry— How  may  we  expect  such  a  petition 
as  this  to  be  answered  ? 

In  the  instance  before  us,  it  was  an- 
swered partially  at  once.  We  owe  to  it 
the  well-known  prayer  we  call  the  Lord's 
prayer — a  model  of  supplication,  which 
claims  at  once  our  admiration  and  grati- 
tude. The  ignorant  may  have  sometimes 
regarded  it  with  a  superstitious  reverence, 
and  the  formalist  may  have  repeated  it 
with  an  unmeaning  frequency  ;  but  human 
folly  can  no  more  degrade  than  human 
wisdom  can  surpass  it.  The  man  of  the 
most  spiritual  mind  has  ever  discovered  in 
it  the  most  clearly  its  divine  origin — an 
elevation  of  thought,  a  loftiness  of  feeling, 
a  delight  in  God,  his  will,  his  favor,  and 
his  glory,  so  comprehensive  a  view  in  so 
few  words  of  his  own  situation  and  wants, 
that  the  longer  he  holds  communion  with 
heaven  and  the  nearer  he  draws  to  it,  the 
more  highly  he  values,  and  the  more  fre- 
quently and  naturally  he  uses,  this  short 
prayer.  But  with  all  its  excellences,  it 
is  in  itself  powerless.  It  could  not  teach 
these  disciples  to  pray.  It  showed  them 
indeed  what  their  prayers  ought  to  be,  but 
it  did  not  communicate  to  them  the  power 
of  making  their  prayers  like  it.  And  what 
has  it  done  for  ourselves  1  We  are  as  well 
acquainted  with  it  as  Peter  or  John  ;  we 
have  had  it  all  our  life  long  in  our  memo- 
ries ;  it  has  passed  our  lips,  it  may  be  a  thou- 
sand times  ;  but  it  has  left  some  of  us  as  ig- 
norant of  prayer  as  barbarians  or  heathen. 

When  Christ  teaches  a  sinner  efiectual- 
ly,  he  always  teaches  him  by  his  own  Holy 
Spirit.  This  Spirit  he  calls  a  "  Spirit  of 
grace  and  supplications;"  and  he  applies 
this  language  to  him,  because  he  is  the 
great  Teacher  of  prayer ;  because  not  a 
single  supplication  has  ever  gone  up  from 
this  guilty  world  to  Jehovah's  throne,  which 


164 


THE  CHRISTIAN  TAUGHT  TO  PRAY. 


his  grace  Las  not  prompted.  He  gives  us 
both  the  will  and  the  power  to  pray ;  and 
all  the  teaching  we  can  receive  from  any 
other  source,  unless  accompanied  with  his 
influence  on  our  minds,  will  do  nothing  for 
us.  It  may  put  a  few  barren  notions  into 
our  understandings,  but  it  can  no  more  bring 
one  real  petition  from  our  hearts,  than  it 
could  from  a  stone.  Our  Lord  well  knew 
this.  Accordingly,  as  soon  as  he  had  given 
his  disciples  a  pattern  for  their  supplica- 
tions, we  find  him  immediately  directing 
them  where  to  go  for  the  ability  to  follow 
it.  He  sends  tliem  to  the  Floly  Spirit  for 
the  inward  principle  of  prayer,  urging  them 
to  importunity  in  their  petitions  for  his 
grace,  and  assuring  them  at  the  same  time 
that  their  importunity  shall  not  be  lost. 

How  then  does  this  Holy  Spirit  teach  us 
to  pray  ?  In  many  ways.  Among  others, 
in  these  four — 

1.  By  discovering  to  us  our  spiritual  pover- 
ty j  showing  us  our  wants  and  helplessness, 
or  giving  us  a  more  lively  sense  of  them. 

We  need  instruction  in  every  thing,  but 
in  nothing  more  than  in  the  knowledge  of 
our  own  necessities.  With  wants  more  in 
number  than  the  liairs  of  our  heads,  and  so 
urgent  that  we  shall  perish  if  they  are  not 
quickly  supplied,  we  really  know  little  or 
nothing  about  them  ;  listening  for  years  to 
the  Bible  that  tells  us  we  are  "  wretched, 
and  miserable,  and  poor,  and  blind,  and 
naked,"  and  either  wondering  what  the 
words  mean,  or  so  content  in  our  imaginary 
abundance,  that  we  do  not  think  them  wor- 
thy a  thought.  May  I  not  appeal  to  your 
consciences  ?  Have  you  not  lived  hours 
and  days,  nay,  have  not  some  of  you  lived 
months  and  years,  a  whole  life,  without  one 
feeling  of  spiritual  want — without  the  faint- 
est suspicion  of  your  standing,  amidst  the 
comforts  that  have  surrounded  and  the 
pleasures  that  have  gladdened  you,  empty 
and  destitute  in  the  world  ?  Till  this  in- 
sensibility is  removed,  we  can  never  pray. 
Prayer  begins  with  a  discoveiy  of  our  ne- 
cessities. It  is  kept  alive,  or,  if  we  suffer 
it  to  die  away,  it  is  revived  and  strengthened 
by  liaving  these  necessities  brought  before 
us  more  closely,  more  prossingly,  more 
painfully.  We  often  find  it  so.  Who,  as 
he  has  bent  the  knee  before  God,  has  not 
sometimes  felt  as  though  he  had  not  a  single 
want  to  be  supplied,  or  a  single  grief  to  be 
removed,  or  a  single  transgression  to  be 
pardoned  ?    And  who,  as  his  dead  soul  has 


looked  upward  for  life  and  feeling,  has  not 
found  his  mind  gradually  opening  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  its  sins  and  burdens,  its  perils 
and  helplessness  ?  Ere  he  is  aware,  his 
heart  has  become  alive  to  its  emptiness ;  it 
is  craving  for  a  supply  ;  he  is  hungering 
and  thirsting  after  spiritual  mercies,  striving 
to  take  the  kingdom  of  heaven  by  violence, 
not  on  account  of  the  blessedness  that  is 
found  there,  its  rivers  of  pleasure  and  its 
fulness  of  joy,  but  on  account  of  his  own 
urgent  necessities.  The  Holy  Spirit  has 
awakened  him  to  a  consciousness  of  his 
poverty,  a  sense  of  want  has  made  him  im- 
portunate, a  feeling  of  destitution  has  taught 
him  to  pray. 

2.  Affiiction  too  is  often  made  to  answer 
the  same  gracious  end. 

We  say,  "  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray  ;"  and 
Christ  says,  "  Yes."  And  then  down  into 
the  grave  sinks  one  of  our  children,  or  away 
into  heaven  goes  the  most  beloved  of  our 
friends  ;  or  sickness  comes  and  withers  our 
health,  or  the  iron  hand  of  adversity  presses 
us  down.  You  remember  how  Absalom 
treated  Joab.  He  wished  for  an  interview 
with  him  and  sent  for  him,  but  Joab  "  would 
not  come  to  him  ;  and  when  he  sent  again 
the  second  time,  he  would  not  come." 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  "  See,"  said  Ab- 
salom to  his  servants,  "  Joab's  field  is  near, 
and  he  hath  barley  there  ;  go  and  set  it  on 
fire."  They  did  so,  and  the  end  was  an- 
swered. Joab  was  immediately  in  the  house 
and  by  the  side  of  his  friend.  "  Why  have 
you  done  this  ?"  he  said.  "  Because," 
said  Absalom,  "  you  refused  to  come  to  me, 
and  I  had  no  other  way  of  bringing  you 
here."  So,  brethren,  when  we  "  restrain 
prayer  before  God,"  when  we  seem,  in 
the  hurry  of  the  world,  to  have  half  forgot- 
ten how  to  pray,  when  the  Lord  calls  again 
and  again  to  us,  "  Seek  ye  my  face,"  and 
calls  in  vain  ;  then  comes  the  fire  on  our 
corn ;  then  comes  some  dispensation  of  prov- 
idence, that  destroys  or  threatens  to  destroy 
our  comforts,  the  fruit  of  our  labors  or  the 
object  of  our  hopes,  and  then  at  lust  we  fly 
to  our  God  ;  then  we  know  once  again 
what  prayer  means ;  a  second  spiritual 
youth  is  given  to  our  souls  ;  they  feel  with 
all  the  energy  of  their  first  feeling,  and  pray 
with  all  the  fervor  of  their  first  supplications, 
and  become  at  last  so  earnest,  so  pleading, 
so  much  like  what  sinful  and  needy  souls 
ought  to  be,  that  we  bless  the  affliction 
which  has  quickened  us  again  to  life  and 


THE  CHRISTIAN  TAUGHT  TO  PRAY. 


165 


consciousness.  Prayor  is  the  design"  of 
trouble.  God  has  an  end  in  afllicting  us 
worthy  liis  wisdom  and  goodness,  and  tliis 
end  he  accomplishes — ho  brings  the  people 
whom  he  loves,  to  his  throne.  "  I  will  go 
and  return  to  my  place,"  he  says,  "  till 
they  acknowledge  their  offence  and  seek 
my  face  ;"  and  then  he  adds,  "  In  their  af- 
fliction, they  will  seek  me  early." 

Many  a  comfort  have  you  loved  away, 
brethren ;  and  some  comforts  you  have 
prayed  away.  Exceeding  joy  in  a  gourd 
has  often  withered  it,  and  sometimes  a 
prayer  lest  you  should  overvalue  it,  has 
proved  its  destruction.  It  is  a  serious  thing 
to  pray,  and  more  especially  to  pray  for  a 
praying  heart.  It  is  often  like  signing  the 
death-warrant  of  the  very  things  we  love 
the  best.  And  what  if  it  is  ?  Who  cannot 
afford  to  lose  the  whole  world,  if  he  has  for 
his  companion,  and  friend,  and  portion,  an 
all-sufficient  God  ? 

3.  At  other  times  Christ  stirs  up  the  soul 
to  prayer,  hy  giving  it  an  enlarged  vieiv  of 
the  divine  promises  and  goodness. 

A  despairing  man  never  prays.  Prayer 
is  the  language  of  expectation  and  hope. 
It  follows  then,  that  the  extent  and  energy 
of  our  supplications  will  be  in  proportion  to 
our  knowledge,  not  only  of  our  own  neces- 
sities, but  of  the  willingness  of  God  to  sup- 
ply them.  Now  we  cannot  reason  our- 
selves into  any  lively  perception  of  this 
willingness.  It  is  to  be  discovered  satis- 
factorily only  in  God's  promises  ;  and  only 
by  a  simple  belief  in  these,  can  we  make  it 
an  object  of  our  hope  and  confidence.  When 
therefore  the  Holy  Spirit  would  excite  in 
any  soul  the  fervor  of  prayer,  he  carries 
liomc  to  tliat  soul  the  promises  made  by 
God  to  sinners  in  the  gospel  of  his  Son. 
He  increases  its  knowledge  of  them  ;  he 
strengthens  its  faith  in  them.  He  enables 
it  to  see  the  reality  and  glory  of  the  divine 
love  in  Christ  Jesus.  He  shows  it  how 
complete  that  reconciliation  is,  which  he 
has  made  for  its  sins ;  how  rich  that  provi- 
sion which  he  has  purchased  for  its  neces- 
sities ;  how  wide  in  its  grasp,  how  well  or- 
dered in  all  things,  how  sure,  that  covenant 
which  he  has  formed  with  his  chosen.  In 
order  to  bring  the  mind  to  pour  out  its  de- 
sires, it  is  made  to  see  all  the  objects  of  its 
desires  within  reach  of  it,  attainable,  treas- 
ured up  by  infinite  grace  in  Christ,  and 
treasured  up  in  him  for  the  sinful  and  vile, 
yea,  lor  itself — peace  and  pardon,  strength 


I  and  consolation,  grace,  and  glory,  and 
heaven,  all  at  the  free  disposal  of  the  Be- 
loved, and  he  asking  for  them  no  money  or 
price,  but  standing  in  our  desolate  world 
proclaiming  his  riches,  and  crying  aloud  to 
its  perisliing  inhabitants,  "  Ask  and  ye  shall 
have  ;  seek  and  ye  shall  find.  Every  one 
that  asketh,  receiveth,  and  he  that  seeketh, 
findeth." 

4.  Sometimes  the  Holy  Spirit  carrie.s  us 
yet  further.  He  teaches  us  to  pray  hy  giv- 
ing vs  clearer  views  of  Christ  as  a  Mediator 
and  Intercessor. 

"  Teach  me  to  pray,"  says  the  soul,  and 
then  Christ  is  manifested  to  the  soul,  as- 
cended in  his  human  nature  to  the  heavens, 
and  sitting  there,  in  that  nature,  on  a  throne 
of  grace,  for  the  very  purpose  of  hearing 
and  answering  its  petitions.  It  sees  in  the 
exalted  man  Christ  Jesus  a  Mediator,  a 
medium  of  access  and  intercourse  between 
itself  and  its  God. 

We  can  hardly  pray  to  God  simply  as 
God,  to  God  as  a  mere  Spirit.  The  instant 
we  thus  strive  to  conceive  of  him,  we  are 
baffled.  Our  weak  minds  discover  that 
there  is  nothing  in  him  which  they  can 
comprehend  ;  nothing  on  whieli  they  can 
fasten  ;  we  are  bewildered  and  distressed. 
But  the  Holy  Spirit  comes  and  withdraws 
the  veil.  He  shows  me  the  Lord  Jesus  in 
the  heavens  in  a  human  form,  and  with  a 
human  nature  and  a  human  heart;  as  much 
the  Son  of  man  as  when  he  trod  the  dust, 
and  as  really  possessed  of  all  mortal  feel- 
ings, sin  only  excepted,  as  myself.  And 
then  he  tells  me  that  this  is  the  being  to 
whom  my  prayers  are  to  rise.  He  tells 
me  that,  shrouded  in  him,  dwells  all  the 
fulness  of  the  Godhead  ;  that  this  Son  of 
man  is  the  Lord  of  the  universe,  none  other 
than  the  everlasting  God,  the  Author  and 
Giver  of  all  the  blessings  that  are  found  in 
all  his  worlds.  Influenced  by  his  grace,  I 
believe  this  amazing  fact ;  and  the  conse- 
quence is,  I  have  now  a  Being  before  me, 
on  whom  my  tliouglits  can  settle.  God  is 
brought  down,  in  some  measure,  within  the 
range  of  my  capacities.  He  is  to  be  con- 
ceived  of  by  mo,  and  approached  by  me, 
and  leaned  on,  and  trusted,  and  rejoiced  in. 
I  behold  in  my  once-crucified  Retleemer  a 
glorious  Mediator.  Through  him,  I  have 
access  by  one  Spirit  unto  the  Father.  See- 
ing that  I  have  such  an  High  Priest  in  the 
heavens,  one  so  merciful  and  gracious; 
Que  who  has  shared  my  griefs  and  carried 


166 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD  KEEPING  THE  HEART. 


my  sorrows  ;  one  wlio,  in  his  own  unparal- 
leled misery,  never  forgot  my  wants,  and 
wlio  now,  in  his  wonderful  joy,  is  still 
touched  with  a  feeling  of  my  infirmities ; 
what  shall  keep  me  from  his  throne  of 
grace  ?  I  now  come  boldly  unto  the  throne 
of  grace.  I  know  that  whatsoever  I  ask 
the  Father  in  his  name,  I  shall  receive  it. 
I  feel  that  neither  my  meanness,  nor  mv 
unworthiness,  nor  my  abhorred  iniquities, 
shall  prevent  the  great  God  of  the  heavens 
from  bowing  down  to  me,  nor  his  riches  of 
mercy  from  flowing  into  my  soul.  I  cry, 
Abba,  Father  ;  I  feel  at  a'  Father's  feet, 
and  am  at  rest. 

You  are  aware,  brethren,  that  I  might 
still  go  on.  I  might  say,  Christ  teachesus 
to  pray  by  much  that  is  passing  around  us, 
by  what  we  calj  accidents — events  that 
make  perhaps  a  whole  parish  or  nation 
start ;  crushing,  and  crushing  in  an  hour, 
the  hopes,  and  prospects,  and  happiness 
that  seemed  almost  out  of  the  reach  of  de- 
cay or  change.  And  he  teaches  us  by 
deliverances,  by  bringing  us  to  the  edge  of 
some  precipice,  and  then,  as  our  foot  "goes 
over  it,  snatching  us  away  from  it;  show- 
ing us  in  the  same  moment  our  danger  and 
our  deliverance.     But  let  this  suffice. 

I  would  only  ask  in  conclusion,  and  I 
would  ask  it  with  seriousness,  and  I  would 
beseech  you  to  answer  it  to  yourselves  with 
seriousness.  What  think  you  of  prayer  ? 
What  think  you  of  its  nature  and  impor- 
tance ?  But  more  especially,  what  are 
your  thoughts  as  to  your  own  need  of  in- 
struction in  it,  its  difficulty  ?  Perhaps  the 
idea  is  new  to  you.  Perhaps  till  this  hour 
you  never  heard  or  thought  of  there  being 
any  difficulty  at  all  in"  this  thing;  you 
have  never  experienced  any.  In  this  case, 
you  must  come  to  one  of  these  two  conclu- 
sions— either  the  sermon  you  have  now 
heard  has  been  grounded  on  a  fallacy, 
either  the  disciples  meant  nothing  of  what 
I  have  represented  them  as  meaning,  when 
they  said,  "  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray ;"  or 
you  know  nothing  about  prayer.  Here,  on 
the  one  hand,  is  a  sense  of  difficulty,  con- 
scious inability  and  ignorance ;  on  the 
other  hand,  no  suspicion  of  any  thing  of 
the  kind,  ease  and  self-complacency,  1 
will  not  say  where  the  truth  lies,  but  this 
I  may  say,  you  have  not  a  godly  fritnid  on 
the  earth,  who  would  think  as  you  think  of 
prayor,  for  a  thousand  worlds.  If  th(>  dis. 
ciples  of  our  Lord  erred,  if  the   minister 


you  have  now  been  listening  to  has  erred» 
they  have  erred  in  such  company,  that 
there  has  never  been  a  man  of  vital,  prac- 
tical godliness,  who  has  not  shared  in  it. 

An  easy  thing  to  pray,  brethren  ?  O 
yes ;  to  utter  words  without  meaning  any 
thing  by  them;  to  offer  a  lip-service  to 
God  ;  to  use  the  thrilling,  and  abasing,  and 
elevating  services  of  our  church,  without 
one  emotion  in  the  soul,  without  one  feeling 
of  humiliation  or  one  tendency  heavenward 
— this  is  easy :  but  to  get  the  heart  into 
the  work  ;  to  bar  out  of  the  heart  its  worldly 
thoughts  and  cares ;  to  feel  in  Jehovah's 
presence  as  we  pray,  and  to  feel,  at  the 
same  time,  poor  and  guilty  there  ;  to  raise 
an  earth-bound  soul  to  God ; — try  for  once 
to  do  this;  go  home  to  your  closets  and 
make  the  attempt.  There  is  no  difficulty 
in  foretelling  the  result — you  will  soon  be 
forced  to  say  as  the  disciples  said  long  ago, 
"  Lord,  teach  us  to  pray.''  And  then,  if 
you  persevere  in  the  effort,  we  can  tell 
you  as  easily  and  certainly  what  you  will 
say  next — you  will  ere  long  be  smiting  in 
secret  on  your  breast,  and  you  will,  each 
of  you,  be  forced  to  cry  out,  "  God  be  mer- 
ciful to  me,  a  sinner."  And  we  can  tell 
you  too  the  end,  the  final  issue,  of  all  this. 
Before  many  years  are  passed,  your  prayers 
will  be  turned  into  such  praises  as  you 
have  never  yet  uttered  or  conceived  of. 
The  very  heavens  will  be  ringing  with  this 
happy  song  from  your  happy  lips,  "  Salva- 
tion to  our  God  which  sitteth  upon  the 
throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb." 


SERMON  XXXI. 

THE  PEACE  OF  GOD  KEEPING  THE  HEART. 
PiiiLU'riANs  iv.  7. 

The  pence  of  God,  which  passcth  nil  unilcrsland- 
inrr,  shall  keep  your  hearts  and  minds  through 
Christ  Jesus. 

Wk  all  need  something  to  keep  our  hearts. 
We  are  living  in  a  changing  world,  and 
its  changes  are  often  deeply  affecting  us ; 
and  that  not  merely  in  our  affairs,  and 
homes,  and  outward  comforts,  but  within, 
in  our  inmost  souls.  The  world  itself  tod 
is  exorcising  over  us  an  almost  unceasing 
influence  l)y  the  things  that  are  in  it.     It  id 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD  KEEPING  THE  HEART. 


167 


crowded  with  objects  coniienial  to  our 
earth-born  nature,  so  adapted  to  its  desires 
and  wants,  that  we  might  as  well  attempt 
to  live  beyond  the  reach  of  the  summer's 
heat  and  the  winter's  cold,  as  to  live 
among  them  and  remain  strangers  to  their 
power.  And  more  than  tliis — these  hearts 
of  ours  are  naturally  restless  hearts. 
There  is  a  self-disturbing  energy  within 
them,  a  principle  of  disquietude,  which  we 
can  neither  root  out  nor  subdue. 

The  result  is,  that  even  in  a  calm,  in  a 
state  of  outward  ease  and  quiet,  our  minds 
are  continually  shifting ;  but  what,  when 
the  storm  beats  on  him,  is  feeble  man  ? 
"A  reed  shaken  with  the  wind;"  a  bark 
at  the  mercy  of  the  gale,  yielding  to  every 
gust  and  disquieted  with  every  wave  ; 
"  afflicted,  tossed  with  tempest,"  and  but 
little  comforted. 

It  is  plain  then  that  we  need  something 
to  steady  us.  We  require  to  be  brought 
under  the  control  of  some  principle  that, 
without  hardening  the  heart,  will  govern 
the  heart.  It  may  allow  troubles  to  grieve 
and  sins  to  weary  us,  but,  to  meet  our 
wants,  it  must  defy  any  of  the  changes  of 
life  to  sway  us,  or  any  of  the  eartli's  tempta- 
tions to  unsettle  us,  or  any  of  our  own  cor- 
ruptions to  lead  us  captive.  And  where 
shall  we  find  this  ?  Plainly  not  in  the 
world  ;  as  well  might  we  look  to  the  hurri- 
cane itself  for  repose.  And  as  plainly  not 
in  ourselves  ;  for  what  have  we  ever  looked 
for  there,  save  misery  and  sin,  and  not  look- 
ed in  vain  ?  The  apostle  shows  us  in  this 
text  the  blessing  that  we  need.  He  points 
out  to  us,  first,  its  nature — it  is  "  peace  ;" 
secondly,  its  Author — it  is  '*  the  peace  of 
God;"  thirdly,  one  of  its  properties — it 
"passeth  all  understanding  ;"  fourthly,  one 
of  its  effects — it  "shall  keep  your  hearts 
and  minds;"  and  then  lastly,  the  source 
whence  we  receive  it,  and  the  instrument- 
ality by  which  it  works — "  through  Christ 
Jesus." 

I.  We  begin  with  the  nature  of  this  de- 
fending principle.  And  how  comforting  is 
the  word  which  the  Holy  Spirit  has  em- 
ployed to  describe  this!  It  is  not  self- 
denial,  not  painful  exertion  or  watchful- 
ness, that  is  here  said  to  keep  the  heart ; 
it  is  peace.  It  is  enjoyment,  and  repose  in 
that  enjoyment.  It  is  a  calm  spread  over 
the  soul,  which  not  only  quiets  it  amid  the 
tumult  of  the  storm,  but  keeps  it  quiet,  and 
refreshes  and  gladdens  it. 


But  what  peace,  it  may  be  asked,  can 
there  be  to  a  being  like  man  ?  a  creature 
at  war  wilh  his  Creator?  In  his  natural 
condition,  none.  "  There  is  no  peace,  saith 
my  God,  to  the  wicked."  "The  wicked 
are  like  the  troubled  sea  when  it  cannot 
rest."  This  peace  is  the  result  of  a  change 
in  man's  state  and  character ;  it  is  the 
effect  of  a  reconciliation  between  him  and 
heaven.  Its  foundation  is  laid  in  that 
transaction  which  takes  place  between  God 
and  the  soul,  when  the  soul  feels  itself 
guilty,  and  polluted,  and  desolate,  and  casts 
itself,  in  all  its  wretchedness,  on  the  free 
mercy  of  its  Lord.  The  hour  of  its  birth 
is  the  hour  when  a  man  sees  his  baseness, 
when  he  feels  his  misery  and  madness,  and 
cries  aloud  with  all  the  energy  of  a  break- 
ing heart,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sin- 
ner !"  In  that  hour,  the  Lord  has  mercy 
on  him.  He  reveals  to  him  the  treasures 
of  grace  he  has  stored  up  for  sinners  in 
Christ  .lesus;  he  enables  him  to  embrace 
by  faith  his  offers  of  pardon  ;  he  unites 
iiim  to  the  Saviour  appointed  for  him ;  and 
then  where  are  all  his  transgressions  and 
sins  ?  They  are  buried  in  "  the  depths  of 
the  sea."  An  act  of  oblivion  has  cancelled 
them.  There  is  peace  between  the  man 
and  his  God  ;  and  the  consequence  is,  now, 
for  the  first  time,  peace  springs  up  in  the 
man's  own  perturbed  heart.  It  flows  from 
this  reconciliation  with  heaven.  It  con- 
sists mainly  in  a  sense  of  reconciliation,  in 
a  discovery  to  the  soul  of  its  own  special 
interest  in  the  divine  forgiveness.  The 
sinner  feels  himself  pardoned,  and  his  fears 
are  scattered  ;  he  sees  himself  adopted  and 
loved,  and  he  is  comforted.  He  now  looks 
on  his  God  as  his  friend.  As  such,  he 
trusts  him  and  hopes  in  him.  He  regards 
the  promises  of  his  word  as  his  own.  In 
temptation,  he  expects  a  victory  ;  in  perils, 
a  refuge ;  in  weakness,  strength  ;  in  afflic- 
tion, comfort ;  in  death,  safety  ;  in  eternity, 
heaven ;  and  in  heaven,  God,  the  presence 
of  God,  the  enjoyment  of  God,  the  very 
likeness  of  God. 

But  this  is  not  all.  His  faith  and  hope 
purify,  while  they  cheer  him.  At  first 
perhaps  he  is  unconscious  of  their  holy  en- 
ergy  ;  he  feels  them  only  laying  to  rest 
his  apprehensions  ;  but  they  are  secretly 
bringing  about  within  him  a  great  and  last- 
ing change  ;  plucking  up  those  roots  of 
bitterness  from  which  much  of  his  former 
disquietude  proceeded,  and  implanting  those 


168 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD  KEEPING  THE  HEART. 


affections  and  tempers  which  are  the  ele- 
ments of  all  real  blessedness.  "  Being 
justified  by  faith,"  he  has  first"  peace  with 
God  ;"  then  he  "joys  in  God  by  whom  he 
has  received  the  atonement;"  and  then  he 
enters  into  that  "  great  peace"  which  they 
have  "  who  love  God's  law."  Taught  to 
long,  and  pray,  and  labor,  for  conformity 
to  his  holy  precepts,  he  finds  that  "  the 
fruit  of  righteousness  is  peace,  and  the  ef- 
fect thereof  quietness  and  assurance  for- 
ever." 

And  tins  is  the  Christian's  peace.  It 
has  as  its  basis  forgiving  mercy  ;  it  is  con- 
nected with  a  discovery  of  this  mercy  ;  it 
proceeds  from  a  conviction  of  a  real  and 
peculiar  interest  in  it  ;  it  is  established, 
and  enlarged,  and  sweetened,  by  that  puri- 
fication of  the  mind,  which  is  the  work  of 
the  Holy  Ghost. 

We  are  not,  however,  to  suppose  that 
every  pardoned  sinner  lives  in  the  full  en- 
joyment of  this  blessing,  or  that  any  par- 
doned sinner  enjoys  it  uniformly  or  con- 
stantly. Ignorance,  self-righteousness,  un- 
belief, in  some  cases,  keep  it  long  out  of  the 
heart ;  and  when  there,  a  multitude  of  hu- 
man infirmities  are  continually  operating 
one  after  another  to  weaken  or  disturb  it. 
But  in  spite  of  every  obstacle,  it  is  expe- 
rienced, it  is  enjoyed.  In  some  happy  mo- 
ments, in  some  happy  hearts,  it  "  flows  as  a 
river,"  making  afiliction  light,  duty  easy, 
mercy  sweet ;  turning  the  house  of  mourn- 
ing into  a  house  of  praise,  and  filling  the 
parched  wilderness  of  life  with  wells  of 
consolation.  There  is  communion  with 
heaven  connected  With  it.  It  comes  down 
from  heaven.  It  is  the  overflowing,  the  run- 
ning over,  of  the  blessedness  of  heaven. 
II.  Consider  Us  author. 
It  is  "  the  peace  of  God."  And  it  is 
called  his  peace  because  that  work  of  sav- 
ing mercy  on  which  it  rests,  is  his  work, 
entirely  and  only  his.  It  had  its  origin  in 
his  own  free,  spontaneous  love.  The  plan 
of  it  came  out  of  his  unsearchable  wis- 
dom ;  and  not  a  part  of  it  has  been  car- 
ried into  efll'Ct,  whicli  his  own  right  hand 
has  not  accomplished.  lie  provided  the 
Peacemaker;  nay,  he  himself  came  down 
from  the  skies  with  his  own  olli  rsol'  recon- 
ciliation. It  was  he  wim  took  on  liim  the 
likeness  of  our  sinful  nature,  obeyed  in  tiuit 
likeness  his  own  lioly  law  without  trans- 
gressing one  of  its  pn  ce])ts.  and  flK>n  en- 
dured its  curse  as  tbouifli  be  had   broken 


them  all.  It  is  he,  who  still  sits  in  the 
same  form  on  the  throne  of  heaven,  and 
still  carries  on  there  the  same  work.  When 
sinners  are  brought  to  his  feet,  they  come 
to  him  because  he  has  drawn  them.  If 
they  cry  for  mercy,  he  has  first  "  poured 
out  on  them  the  Spirit  of  grace  and  of 
supplication."  Not  a  tear  of  contrition  do 
they  ever  shed,  which  he  does  not  cause  to 
flow  ;  and  not  one  of  them  all  has  ever  be- 
lieved and  embraced  one  of  his  promises,  to 
whom  he  has  not  first  given  the  gift  of 
faith. 

And  not  only  this,  he  himself  communi- 
cates that  peace  of  mind,  which  flows  from 
a  sense  of  pardon  and  acceptance.  It  is 
not  the  mei-3  result  of  self-examination  or 
reasoning  -.vithin  our  own  minds  ;  it  is  the 
gift  of  God  ;  and  it  is  called  his  peace,  be- 
cause it  is  his  property,  and  bestowed  by 
his  hand.  He  reveals  to  the  soul  in  his 
own  way  and  time,  by  his  own  Spirit,  the 
love  he  bears  towards  it,  the  mercy  he  has 
prepared  for  it,  perhaps  the  work  he  has 
wrought  in  it.  He  shows  it  in  the  blood  of 
Christ,  its  freedom  from  condemnation  ;  in 
the  obedience  of  Christ,  its  "  robe  of  right- 
eousness;" in  the  purifying  Spirit,  the 
gifts  and  graces  of  Christ,  its  "  garment  of 
salvation  ;"  and  in  the  promises  and  life 
of  Christ,  its  safety.  He  unfolds,  as  it 
were,  the  book  of  life  ;  he  shows  to  the 
wondering  sinner  his  own  poor,  despised 
name  shining  there  ;  and  the  consequence 
is — and  how  can  it  be  otherwise  ? — he  is 
"  filled  with  all  joy  and  peace  in  believ- 
ing ;"  he  "  abounds  in  hope  through  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;"  "  the  peace  of 
God  rules,"  presides  and  reigns  "  in  his 
heart." 

IIL  A  peace  thus  divine  in  its  origin 
must  partake  in  some  degree  of  the  lofty 
nature  of  its  Author,  and  in  that  degree  it 
must  be  incomprehensible  to  any  earthly 
mind.  The  apostle  accordingly  goes  on  to 
describe  this  property  of  it.  "  It  passeth," 
he  says,  "  all  understanding." 

We  may  attach  two  meanings  to  this 
language. 

1.  This  peace  passes  altogether  the  vn- 
(JerstandiniT  of  such  as  are  straDirers  to  it. 
'r\\ry  who  liave  never  experienced  it.  know 
iiolliing  of  iis  character,  nor  can  they.  It 
is  above  them  ;  in  its  very  nature,  it  is  out 
of  their  reach.  Not  that  there  is  in  it  anv 
filing  visionary  or  enfhusiiistic.  It  is  real, 
it   is   solid,  it  is  rational  ;    so   rational,  so 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD  KEEPING  THE  HEART. 


16^ 


well  founded,  ti.at  the  wonder  is  any  par- 
doned sinner  siiould  be  for  one  moment  des- 
titute of  it  ;  so  rational,  that  no  other  peace 
will  bear  thought,  and  reflection,  and  ex- 
amination, like  it ;  nay,  there  is  no  other 
peace  that  will  bear  serious  reflection  at 
all.  But  then  it  is  not  so  much  the  intel- 
lect that  is  occupied  about  it  as  the  heart. 
It  is  a  matter  not  of  science,  but  experi- 
ence.    It  must  be  felt  to  be  understood. 

And  this  is  not  a  peculiarity  confined  to 
this  or  any  otlier  spiritual  blessing.  It  is 
common  perhaps  to  every  pleasure  we  know. 
The  man  of  intellect,  for  instance,  may  talk 
of  the  delight  he  experiences  in  the  workings 
of  his  mind,  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge, 
the  discovery  of  truth,  the  soarings  of  the 
imagination,  the  conscious  expanding  of  the 
soul  ;  but  his  words  convey  no  distinct  idea 
of  these  things  to  his  ignorant  neighbor  ; 
they  excite  only  his  wonder.  We  may 
Jell  the  deaf  man  again  of  the  harmonies 
of  music,  or  we  may  discourse  to  the  blind 
man  of  the  beauty  of  this  heaven-built 
world  ;  we  may  reason  clearly  and  elo- 
quently about  them  ;  but  what  has  our  rea- 
soning done  ?  It  has  done  nothing.  The 
blind  man  knows  no  more  of  the  rainbow's 
splendor,  or  the  landscape's  richness,  or  the 
heaven's  glory,  than  he  knew  before  ;  the 
deaf  man  is  as  much  a  stranger  to  music 
and  its  powers.  Just  so  is  it  with  this  peace 
of  God.  A  knowledge  of  it  is  not  to  be 
gained  by  speculation.  If  we  want  to  com- 
prehend it,  we  must  seek  it,  we  must  ac- 
quire it,  we  must  enjoy  it.  In  the  strong 
language  of  the  apostle,  we  must  "  taste  of 
the  heavenly  gift  ;"  we  "  must  taste  the 
good  word  of  God  and  the  powers  of  the 
world  to  come."  Our  religion  must  be 
more  than  a  form  or  a  creed  ;  it  must  be  a 
work  in  the  heart. 

2.  And  even  then  this  peace  will  still 
"  pass  all  understanding,"  for  thry  who  en- 
joy it  the  most,  cannot  fully  comprehend  it. 
It  is  a  mystery  to  the  man  who  possesses 
it.  He  is  sensible  of  its  existence  ;  he  finds 
his  heart  quieted  and  purified  by  it  ;  he 
sees  and  delights  in  its  effects,  and  he  can 
give  us  a  plain,  intelligible  account  of  them ; 
but  how  did  it  come  into  his  heart  ?  How- 
ls it  kept  there  ?  Why  is  it  at  times  so 
unspeakably  sweet,  so  amazingly  strong  ? 
To  what  height  of  blessedness  can  it  rise  ? 
These  are  questions  to  which  he  can  give 
no  distinct  reply.  All  he  can  say  is,  "  the 
peace  of  God  passcth  all  understanding." 
22 


And  perhaps  an  inhabitant  of  heaven  could 
say  no  more.  It  may  j)ass  even  an  angel's 
,  comprehension.  It  is  "  the  peace  of  God," 
it  is  "  the  joy  of  the  Lord  ;"  his  own  peace, 
his  own  joy,  and  none  but  his  own  infinite 
mind  can  fully  understand  its  nature  and 
extent.  We  may  all  however  comprehend 
its  effects. 

IV.  One  of  these  effects  is  brought  before 
us  in  the  text.  "  It  shall  keep  your  hearts 
and  minds." 

By  the  "  heart"  we  are  to  understand 
our  affections  ;  by  the  "  mind,"  our  intel- 
lectual faculties,  the  understanding  and 
judgment.  The  peace  of  God,  we  are  told, 
keeps  both  these.  Its  influence  extends  to 
every  part  of  the  soul.  And  thus  our 
church  explains  this  scripture.  The  well- 
known  benediction  in  which  it  is  introduced, 
speaks  of  "  the  knowledge  and  love  of 
God;"  it  prays  that  his  peace  may  keep 
our  hearts  and  minds  in  both,  evidently  re- 
ferring "  the  knowledge"  of  him  to  the 
mind,  and  "  the  love"  of  him  to  the  heart. 

The  word  too  which  we  render  "  keep," 
is  peculiarly  significant.  It  means  to  de- 
fend as  in  a  garrison  ;  so  to  fortify  and  pre- 
serve, that  no  invading  enemies  can  come 
nigh  to  harm.  It  implies  danger,  but  it 
promises  us  safety  in  the  midst  of  danger. 
It  assures  us  of  security,  not  in  a  peaceful 
heaven,  but  in  a  world  of  foes  and  conflict. 

But  how,  it  may  be  asked,  does  the  peace 
of  God  effect  all  this  ?     In  many  ways. 

In  temptation,  it  secures  the  heart  by  sat- 
isfying the  heart.  It  triumphs  over  the 
pleasures  of  sense  by  communicating  high- 
er pleasures.  It  purifies  and  elevates  the 
taste.  It  destroys  the  love  of  the  \vorld  by 
making  us  partakers  of  a  blessedness  which 
we  could  never  wring  out  of  earthly  ob- 
jects, and  which  w'e  are  now  sure  these  ob- 
jects can  never  give.  Will  a  man  labor 
to  fill  himself  with  the  husks  of  the  earth, 
who  is  living  on  the  bread  of  heaven  ? 
Will  he  sigh  for  the  damps  and  twilight  of 
a  dungeon,  who  is  warmed  and  gladdened 
by  the  mid-day  sun  ? 

And  it  keeps  the  lieart  in  affliction.  It 
is  a  pledge  of  the  special  love  of  God  to 
the  soul ;  and  as  such,  it  begets  confidence 
in  him,  so  that  the  soul  can  stay  itself  on 
his  promises,  and  encourage  itself  in  his 
faithfulness,  and  look  to  his  care  and  power 
for  a  happy  issue  out  of  all  its  troubles.  Il 
both  begets  hope  and  strengthens  hoj  le  ;  and 
he  who  is  going  full  of  hope  to  heaven,  is 


170 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD  KEEPING  THE  HEART. 


not  easily  shaken  or  depressed.  With  a 
crown  of  life  before  him,  he  feels  that  he 
can  afford  to  bear  the  li,2;ht  affliction  of  the 
way  that  leads  to  it.  Besides,  it  leaves  us 
sometliing  to  fall  back  on,  when  other  props, 
and  refuges,  and  consolations,  are  with- 
drawn. Let  a  worldly  man  lose  his  earthly 
comforts,  and  he  has  lost  his  all  ;  but  let  a 
man  of  God  lose  what  he  may,  his  main 
support,  his  chief  treasure,  is  yet  safe.  Put 
this  peace  into  his  heart,  and  then  place 
him  where  you  will,  on  the  bed  of  sickness, 
in  the  house  of  mourning,  by  the  grave  of 
his  best,  and  dearest,  and  only  friend  ; 
strike  him  where  you  may  and  how  you 
may,  he  can  bear  the  blow.  He  grieves, 
grieves  perhaps  more  than  other  men,  for 
his  religion  has  enlarged  his  powers  of  suf- 
fering, it  has  extended  his  view,  it  has  deep- 
ened his  feelings  and  refined  his  heart ;  but 
he  is  not  moved  ;  no  practical,  no  abiding 
impression  is  made  on  him.  He  may  weep 
for  an  hour,  but  he  will  soon  take  up  the 
language  of  the  destitute  Paul,  and  say,  "  I 
have  all  and  abound  ;  I  am  full.  None  of 
these  things  move  me  ;  nay,  in  all  these 
things  I  am  more  than  conqueror  through 
him  that  loved  me." 

The  peace  of  God  keeps  the  mind  also. 
It  settles  the  judgment.  Just  as  it  raises 
the  alfeclions-by  imparting  higher  pleasures 
than  the  world  can  give,  so  it  informs  and 
elevates  the  undersianding  by  showing  it, 
in  the  light  of  spiritual  blessedness,  the 
meagerness  and  poverty  of  all  temporal 
good.  It  does  not  tell  us  how  to  acquire 
wealth,  or  consequence,  or  honor,  but  it 
does  more ;  it  teaches  us  how  to  do  without 
them.  It  strips  these  things  bare  ;  it  takes 
the  shining  cloak  off  them  ;  it  enables  us, 
if  we  have  them,  to  hold  them  loosely ;  to 
esteem  them  unworthy  of  any  eager  pur- 
suit, if  we  have  them  not.  It  shows  us 
things  that  arc  more  excellent,  riches  that 
are  more  durable,  an  honor  that  is  more 
glorious,  a  happiness  that  is  divine. 

And  it  keeps  the  mind  by  keeping  folly, 
all  new  and  strange  notions,  all  skeptical 
doubts,  all  error,  out  of  the  mind.  The 
man  who  has  this  peace  of  God  within 
him,  "  has  the  witness  in  iiimself,"  a  wit- 
ness and  evidence  of  the  truth,  which 
neither  enthusiasts  nor  scoffers  can  silence. 
Tell  him  that  his  Bible  is  not  true,  that 
his  beloved  Saviour  has  no  existence,  that 
his  religion  is  a  fable  and  his  hope  a 
dream — while  you  are  talking  and  reason- 


ing, he  is  feeling  the  power  of  all  these 
things,  he  is  experiencing  their  truth,  and 
reality,  and  blessedness.  His  religion  has 
ceased  to  be  a  subject  of  speculation;  it  is 
become  a  matter  of  sense.  You  might  as 
well  tell  him  in  the  broad  light  of  day, 
that  there  is  no  sun  in  the  heavens  to  shine 
on  him  ;  or  that  he  himself,  living,  breath- 
ing, and  acting,  has  no  existence.  A  heart 
happy  in  its  God  is  a  safe  heart.  "  The 
joy  of  the  Lord  will  be  its  strength."  It 
wants  no  new  doctrines,  no  fresh  I'evela- 
tions,  no  discoveries.  It  has  found  what 
it  needs,  and  it  enjoys  what  it  has  found, 
and  is  content. 

V.  One  part  more  of  the  text  still  re- 
mains to  be  noticed.  It  points  out  to  us 
the  source  whence  we  obtain  this  peace  of  God, 
and  the  insirurneiitality  hy  which  it  toorks. 

In  the  preceding  verse  of  the  chapter, 
the  apostle  had  been  inculcating  on  the 
Philippian  converts  a  freedom  from  all 
anxious  carefulness,  and  a  constant  refer- 
ring of  all  their  wants,  with  prayer  and 
thanksgiving,  to  a  gracious  God.  "  Be 
careful,"  he  says,  "  for  nothing,  but  in 
every  thing,  by  prayci  and  supplication 
with  thanksgiving,  let  your  requests  be 
made  known  unto  God."  And  then  he 
adds,  "  the  peace  of  God  shall  keep  your 
hearts."  But  lest  he  should  be  understood 
as  ascribing  the  efficacy  of  this  peace  to 
the  prayer  which  precedes  or  attends  it, 
lest  that  which  is  little  more  than  its  com- 
panion, should  be  mistaken  for  its  source, 
he  turns  away  their  thoughts  in  a  moment 
from  the  duties  he  has  been  urging,  and 
fixes  them  on  the  Lord  Christ.  '•  The 
peace  of  God,"  he  tells  them,  "shall  keep 
their  hearts  and  minds  through  Christ 
Jesus."  And  an  experienced  Christian 
can  enter  at  once  into  his  meaning.  He 
knows  that  there  can  be  no  peace  such  as 
he  is  enjoying,  in  a  heart  corroded  with 
worldly  anxieties  or  destitute  of  a  spirit  of 
supplication  ;  he  fieels  that  faith  and  prayer 
are  as  necessary  to  its  existence,  as  though 
it  owed  to  them  alone  its  origin  ;  but  then 
he  knows  also,  that  these  things  have  no 
more  power  in  themselves  to  quiet  a  per- 
turbed soul,  than  to  calm  a  tempest.  Our 
peace  will  ever  on  this  sitlc  of  the  grave 
be  connected  with  faith  and  prayer,  it  will 
seem  to  rise  out  of  them,  its  strength  will 
generally  be  proportioned  to  their  strength  ; 
but  if  we  want  its  source,  if  we  would 
di.scover  the  secret  spring  whence  its  energy 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD  KEEPING  THE  HEART. 


171 


is  derived,  we  must  look  higher ;  we  must 
not  .stoj)  short  of  the  Saviour's  throne. 

The  peace  of  God  has  God  for  its  Author 
and  its  Giver;  but  it  flows  to  us  through 
the  mediation  of  his  dear  Son.  It  is  one 
of  tlie  blessed  fruits  of  his  obedience,  and 
sufferings,  and  continued  intercession.  We 
should  never  have  known  what  it  is,  never 
in  this  world  of  guilt  have  even  heard  of 
it,  had  he  not  made  reconciliation  for  our 
iniquities,  and  opened  a  way  first  for  grace, 
and  then  for  peace,  to  flow  down  from  a 
righteous  God  among  wretched  men.  It 
dwells  also  in  him  as  the  great  Head  of 
his  church,  as  the  royal  treasury  in  which 
all  the  precious  gifts  designed  for  sinners, 
are  deposited.  It  is  dispensed  by  him ; 
and  when  received  from  his  hand,  it  is 
through  the  agency  of  his  own  Spirit  on 
our  souls,  that  it  becomes  our  protection  ; 
that  it  keeps,  and  holds,  and  blesses  us. 

On  these  accounts  it  is  that  peace  is  so 
often  connected  with  Christ  in  the  scrip- 
tures. He  is  called  "our  peace;"  he  is 
said  to  "  have  made  peace."  Before  he 
entered  our  world,  he  was  announced  as 
"  the  Prince  of  peace  ;"  when  he  was 
born  in  it,  the  song  of  "  Peace  on  earth" 
filled  the  skies;  and  when  he  went  away 
from  it,  peace  was  the  legacy  he  left  behind 
him. 

And  now  at  last,  brethren,  let  us  turn 
to  ourselves.  I  may  have  spoken  of  this 
peace,  and  you  may  have  heard  of  it,  as 
though  it  were  a  matter  in  which  we  have 
little  personal  interest  ;  but  is  it  not  griev- 
ous that  such  a  blessing  should  have  so 
little  power  to  aff(:!ct  or  attract  us  ?  With 
hearts  ever  aching  for  rest,  eager  in  the 
pursuit  of  it,  fastening  themselves  on  every 
trifle  that  seems  to  otTer  even  the  chance 
of  it,  is  it  not  sad  that  when  the  Bible 
speaks  to  us  of  rest,  we  refuse  it  even  a 
thought  ?  If  we  listen  to  it  at  all,  too 
often  we  listen  as  to  a  tale  or  a  dream; 
just  as  though  it  told  us,  not  of  a  peace  to 
be  obtained  and  enjoyed  by  ourselves  in 
this  miserable  world,  but  of  a  happiness 
situated  out  of  our  reach,  in  the  sun  or  the 
stars. 

Treat  it  however  as  we  may,  the  con- 
cern we  have  in  this  thing  is  close  and 
deep.  There  is  more  involved  in  it  than 
a  little  temporary  relief  in  our  trials.  It 
is  mixed  up  with  eternal  joys  and  sorrows. 
It  is  "  the  peace  of  God  ;"  it  is  the  effect 
of  reconciliation  with  him  through  the  Son  I 


of  his  love  ;  it  is  connected  with  that  faith 
in  his  promises,  which  saves  the  soul  alive  ; 
it  is  the  result  of  his  sanctifying  operations 
in  man's  polluted  heart.  To  be  a  straiiirer 
to  it,  and  to  continue  always  and  entirely 
a  stranger  to  it,  is  therefore  nothing  less 
than  ruin.  It  is  to  be  a  stranger  to  that 
pardon,  that  holiness,  that  mercy  and 
grace,  on  which  the  safety  of  every  sinner 
that  breathes,  depends. 

O  ask  yourselves  then  what  you  know 
of  this  peace  of  God  ;  why  you  have  so 
little  of  it ;  why  perhaps  you  have  none 
of  it ;  vvhy,  it  may  be,  you  have  never 
even  sought  or  desired  to  have  it.  And 
then  ask  yourselves  what  those  empty 
things  are  worth,  which  you  prefer  before 
it.  And  then  look  forv.*ard,  and  ask  again 
what  you  will  do  without  this  peace  when 
sickness  enfeebles  you,  when  death  comes 
into  your  families,  when  that  \vhich  you 
love  the  best,  lies  far  away  from  you  in 
lonely  darkness.  And  ask  yourselves  one 
question  more.  Inquire  what  substitute 
you  can  find  for  this  peace  of  God  on  your 
own  dying  bed.  I  know  that  there  are 
substitutes  for  it ;  thousands  are  creating 
and  trusting  in  them  every  hour ;  but  no 
matter  what  our  dependence  is,  if  God  is 
not  the  author  and  Ciirist  the  sole  founda- 
tion  of  it,  we  shall  find  it  fail  us.  It  fails 
us  now.  It  keeps  neither  our  hearts  nor 
minds.  It  leaves  the  world  in  full  posses- 
sion of  both.  It  does  not  bar  the  love  of 
the  world  out  of  the  one.  nor  the  wretched 
principles  and  spirit  of  the  world  out  of  the 
other.  It  ofl^ers  us  no  defence  against  the 
assaults  of  temptation  ;  it  abandons  us  to 
the  power  of  sin.  What  then  can  we 
expect  from  it  in  trouble,  in  death,  in 
judgment?  And  what  is  such  a  peace 
worth  ?  a  peace  that  can  do  nothing  for  us, 
that  will  not  bear  examination,  that,  when 
brought  to  the  test  of  God's  word,  disap- 
pears ?  O  value  not  so  delusive  a  thing. 
Seek  something  better.  Seek  that  peace 
which  flows  from  a  confidence  in  pardoning 
mercy  and  redeeming  love.  And  why 
should  you  seek  it  ?  That  you  may  bear 
the  troubles  of  life  more  patiently  ?  that 
you  may  weep  over  your  losses  less  bit- 
terly ?  that  the  anguish  of  a  wounded  spirit 
may  be  felt  by  you  no  more  ?  For  a 
higher  end.  Heaven  is  connected  with 
this  thing.  It  is  a  peace  which  is  an  ear- 
nest of  heaven,  which  preserves  the  soul 
for  heaven,  and  makes  it  meet  for  it,  and 


172 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD  KEEPING  THE  HEART. 


ends  in  its  joys.  Blessed  as  it  is  now, 
compared  with  what  it  will  be,  it  is  as 
nothing,  no  more  than  a  drop  to  an  ocean, 
twilight  to  noon,  time  to  eternitv. 


SERMON    XXXII. 

THE  VISIT  OF  THE  WISE  MEN  OF  THE 
EAST  TO  CHRIST 

St.  Matthew  ii.  9. 

A  d,  lo,  the.  star  which  they  satii  in  the  east,  u^ent 
lefore  them,  till  it  came  and  stood  over  where 
he  young  child  was. 

The  evangelist  appears  to  record  this 
cinjumstance  with  a  feeling  of  admiration, 
if  not  of  wonder.  And  perhaps  the  interest 
which  the  whole  of  this  narrative  possesses, 
may  be  traced,  in  some  measure,  to  the 
mystery  that  hangs  over  it.  It  rivets  our 
atteiition  because  it  excites  our  curiosity. 
But  it  was  not  written  for  such  a  purpose. 
The^e  is  instruction  in  it,  and  instruction 
designed  by  the  Holy  Spirit  for  every  one 
of  us.  May  he  give  us  grace  to  discover 
and  receive  it ! 

We  may  divide  the  history  into  three 
parts : — the  description  it  gives  us  of  the 
men  who  are  the  subjects  of  it,  the  star 
which  appeared  to  them,  and  the  conduct 
they  manifested. 

I.  The  description  ajforded  us  of  these 
visitants  at  Bethlehem,  is  very  short.  All 
we  are  told  is,  that  they  were  "  wise  men 
from  the  east." 

By  "  the  east,"  the  people  of  Judea 
would  understand  either  Arabia  or  Persia  ; 
and  by  "  wise  men,"  not  merely  persons  of 
well-informed  minds  and  sound  understand- 
ings, but  men  who  made  science  their  pur- 
suit and  profession.  The  qxiarter  they 
came  from,  leads  us  to  suppose  that  they 
were  astronomers,  and  their  immediate 
discovery  of  the  miraculous  star  goes  far 
to  confirm  this  opinion.  That  they  were 
men  of  some  wealth,  is  clear  from  the 
gifts  they  brought  with  them,  while  the 
sensation  they  excited  in  Jerusalem,  is  a 
proof,  if  not  of  their  elevated  rank,  yet  at 
least  of  the  widely  spread  and  high  esti- 
mation in  which  they  were  held.  II(>ro(l 
seeks  a  private  interview  with  them  ;  the 
sanhedrim  is  called  together  to  answer  their 


inquiries  ;  so  much  importance  is  attached 
to  their  words,  that  all  the  city  is  thrown 
by  them  into  a  state  of  alarm.  The  king 
trembles  for  the  safety  of  his  throne,  and 
the  people  are  apprehensive  of  new  com- 
motions and  oppressions.  Bringing  all 
these  circumstances  together,  we  may  infer 
that  they  were  learned  men,  rich  men,  and 
perhaps  celebrated  men. 

1.  See  then  in  this  narrative  the  power 
of  God  over  the  human  mind. 

At  this  period  he  was  about  to  introduce  into 
the  world  a  new  revelation  of  himself ;  and 
this  revelation  was  intended  to  manifest  his 
perfections  more  gloriously  than  they  had 
ever  been  manifested  before,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  to  put  into  man  the  deepest  feeling  of 
self-abasement  of  which  his  proud  nature 
is  capable.  "  The  lofty  looks  of  man 
shall  be  humbled,"  says  God,  as  he  forms 
the  scheme  of  man's  redemption,  "  and  the 
haughtiness  of  men  shall  be  bowed  down, 
and  the  Lord  alone  shall  be  exalted  in  that 
day."  In  furtherance  of  this  design,  he 
determines  to  pass  by,  in  a  marked  man- 
ner, all  that  the  world  admires;  and  to  take 
as  the  special  objects  of  his  favor,  those 
whom  the  world  most  contemns,  the  poor, 
the  ignorant,  the  mean. 

But  this  procedure  was  evidently  liable 
to  be  misunderstood — the  divine  intention 
in  it  might  be  overlooked  ;  men  might  as- 
cribe the  success  of  the  gospel,  not  to  the 
power  of  Jehovah,  but  to  the  weakness  of 
those  who  embraced  it ;  and  thus  the  out- 
ward meanness  of  the  church,  instead  of 
confounding  human  pride,  might  serve  only 
to  tarnish  its  Redeemer's  glory.  And  how 
does  an  all-wise  God  act  1  He  first  brings 
to  the  birth-place  of  his  Son  a  company  of 
humble  shepherds,  and  bids  us  mark  well 
that  of  such,  in  the  main,  shall  be  his  king- 
dom ;  but  then  to  let  us  see  that  he  can  go 
where  he  will  for  trophies  of  his  greatness, 
that  he  can  bow  down  the  rich  and  noble 
yet  lower  than  he  lays  the  poor,  that  he 
can  triumph  over  the  pride  of  intellect,  the 
love  of  fame,  the  dread  of  scorn,  as  easily 
and  completely  as  he  triumphs  over  the 
dulncss  of  ignorance  and  the  sordid  apathy 
of  want,  he  leads  these  wise  men  from  the 
east  to  Jerusalem  and  Bethlehem.  And 
when  in  the  Redeemer's  presence,  how  do 
they  demean  themselves  ?  The  peasant 
shepherd  stood  erect  there  ;  at  least,  if  they 
prostrated  themselves  before  him,  we  are 
not  told  so :   but  these  eastern  sages   fall 


THE  VISIT  OF  THE  WISE  MEN  OF  THE  EAST  TO  CHRIST. 


173 


down  in  his  lowly  dwelling,  and  do  him 
reverence. 

What  an  encouragement,  brethren,  is 
here  for  every  soul  that  feels  its  pride  and 
hates  it !  There  is  a  Being  who  can  make 
me  humble  as  an  angel  ;  One  who  can 
master  this  proud,  ungovernable  heart  of 
mine.  And  this  Being  is  calling  me  to  his 
feet.  If  I  am  in  earnest  in  my  prayers  for 
an  humble  heart,  I  shall  go  to  him,  and  be- 
seech him  to  show  forth  in  me  also  his 
abasing  power. 

2.  We  have  too  in  this  history,  a  fulfl- 
menf.  of  prophecy. 

The  predictions  that  announced  the  com- 
ing of  the  Messiah,  foretold  of  him  that  he 
should  beat  down  the  partition-wall  which 
had  so  long  excluded  the  Gentiles  from  the 
church  of  God.  He  was  to  be  the  Shiloh 
unto  whom  should  bo  "  the  gathering  of  the 
people  ;"  the  seed  of  Abraham,  "  in  whom 
all  the  families  of  the  earth  should  be 
blessed."  "  Ask  of  me, "said  God  to  him, 
"  and  I  shall  give  thee  the  heatlien  for  thine 
inheritance,  and  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
earth  for  thy  possession."  And  no  soon- 
er does  he  appear  in  the  world,  than  God 
seems  impatient  to  fulfil  his  promise.  The 
angel  who  publishes  to  the  shepherds  the 
tidings  of  his  birth,  is  commanded  to  declare 
that  they  shall  be  tidingsof  great  joy  "  to  all 
people  ;"  and  then  comes  a  confirmation  of 
this  saying  in  these  worshipping  and  re- 
joicing Gentiles. 

The  Messiah  came  first  to  his  own,  "  but 
his  own  received  him  not."  "The  daugh- 
ter of  Zion"  was  called  on  to  exult  at  his 
approach,  but  she  manifested  no  joy  when 
she  saw  him,  and  "  the  daughter  of  Jeru- 
salem" was  troubled.  God  leaves  them 
to  their  folly  ;  but,  in  the  greatness  of  his 
strength,  he  lays  bare  his  arm,  and  a  com- 
pany of  heralds  is  brought  out  of  a  hea- 
then land  to  proclaim  the  King  of  Zion  in 
Zion's  streets.  "  Behold,  there  came  wise 
men  from  the  east  to  Jerusalem,  saying. 
Where  is  he  that  is  born  King  of  the  Jews  ? 
for  we  have  seen  his  star  in  the  east,  and 
are  come  to  worship  him." 

And  the  matter  did  not  end  here.  After 
a  while,  these  men  are  shown  to  us  bowing 
down  at  Bethlehem  to  the  very  King  whom 
Jerusalem  rejected  ;  worshipping  that  Mes- 
siah whom  the  people  that  had  for  ages  pro- 
fessed to  look  for  him,  were  either  afraid  or 
ashamed  to  own. 

In  this  situation,  they  were  at  once  wit- 


nesses against  unbelieving  Israel,  and 
proofs  to  the  Gentile  world  of  the  divine 
faithfulness.  Tliey  were  intimations  and 
pledges  of  the  divine  purposes.  They 
were  tokens  of  the  ability  of  Jehovah  to 
make  the  kingdomsof  the  earth  his  own.  As 
such  we  must  still  regard  them.  Looking 
on  them  at  the  Redeemer's  feet,  we  must 
cease  to  talk  of  difficulties  in. the  career  of 
a  mighty  God  ;  we  must  cease  to  be  dis- 
couraged at  the  slow  progress  of  his  gospel 
in  our  world.  They  were  the  first  fruits 
of  a  harvest  which  from  eternity  he  deter- 
mined to  gather  in  ;  he  is  gathering  it  in, 
and  the  day  is  coming,  when  the  whole 
earth  shall  be  one  vast  field  of  joy  and 
glory.  Unbelief  may  say  of  this  great 
change.  It  is  incredible.  Carnal  wisdom, 
as  she  looks  at  the  darkness  which  covers 
the  earth,  may  pronounce  it  impossible. 
But  what  then  ?  While  these  men  were 
worshipping  at  Bethlehem,  the  Jews  might 
have  said  the  same  of  heathen  Britain,  and 
said  it  with  more  of  the  semblance  of  truth. 
But  what  says  history  and  what  says  fact 
now  ?  "  The  Gentiles  have  come  to  thy 
light,"  O  blessed  Saviour,  and  our  once 
heathen  "  kings  to  the  brightness  of  thy 
rising."  The  Holy  One  of  Israel  has 
been  honored  in  England,  as  he  never  per- 
haps was  honored  in  his  chosen  Zion  ;  and 
soon  all  "  the  kingdoms  of  the  world" 
shall  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and 
of  his  Christ. 

Is  all  this  nothing  to  you,  brethren  ? 
Has  this  prospect  no  power  to  excite  with- 
in you  one  feeling  of  delight  or  one  rising 
of  prayer  ?  Then  where  is  your  faith  in 
the  only  book  which  brings  "  life  and  im- 
mortality to  light  ?"  and  where  is  your  love 
for  the  only  Being  in  the  universe,  to  whom 
you  can  look  for  the  rescue  of  your  lost 
souls  ? 

II.  We  come  now  to  our  next  point — 
the  star  which  conducted  these  wise  men  to 
Christ. 

What  tliis  was,  we  are  not  told.  It 
could  not  be  any  one  of  the  known  heaven- 
ly bodies,  for  it  at  once  attracted  notice  as 
something  strange ;  nor  can  we  suppose 
that  it  was  any  new  world  introduced  into 
our  system.  It  was  probably  a  meteor  in 
the  earth's  own  atmosphere,  assuming  the 
appearance  of  a  star. 

We  are  kept  in  the  same  ignorance  as 
to  the  reason  which  led  these  sages  to  con- 
nect it  with   Christ.     They  call   it   *'  hia 


174 


THE  VISIT  OF  THE  WISE  MEN  OF  THE  EAST  TO  CHRIST. 


star,"  and  they  evidently  act  under  a  full 
conviction  that  it  proclaimed  his  hirth  ;  but 
whence  came  this  conviction  ?  It  has 
been  supposed  that  the  Jovi'ish  expectation 
of  the  Messiah  liad  reached  them  among 
the  mountains  of  the  east,  carried  thither 
by  some  of  the  dispersed  Israelites  ;  and 
that  they  had  in  this  way  become  familiar 
with  the  prophecies  which  foretold  his  ad- 
vent. One  of  these  spoke  of  him  under 
the  image  of  a  star,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
represented  him  as  a  King ;  and  it  is  fur- 
ther remarkable  that  this  had  for  its  au- 
thor a  prophet  who  himself  had  an  eastern 
origin.  "'  There  shall  come  a  star  out  of 
Jacob,"  said  Balaam,  "  and  a  sceptre 
shall  rise  out  of  Israel."  But  a  prophecy 
like  this,  supposing  them  to  be  ever  so  well 
acquainted  with  it,  could  hardly  produce 
in  men  like  these  a  conviction  so  strong  as 
we  see  them  manifesting.  There  is  no  in- 
dication of  doubt  or  conjecture  in  their 
language  ;  all  they  say  bespeaks  knowl- 
edge, certainty,  assurance. 

None  but  God,  brethren,  can  lead  a  sin- 
ner to  the  Lord  Jesus.  Means  he  may 
employ,  but  whether  they  are  stars,  or 
prophecies,  or  ministers,  he  will  so  employ 
them  as  to  make  us  feel  their  insufficiency, 
and  look  through  them  to  himself.  In  this 
case,  he  bids,  a  shining  meteor  testify  of  his 
Son  ;  and  then  undoubtedly  he  himself,  by 
his  Spirit,  explains  its  language.  He  darts 
into  the  minds  of  these  happy  men  a  bright- 
er light  than  ever  flowed  from  any  created 
thing,  tells  them  of  the  Sun  of  righteous- 
ness, and  then  leads  them  by  a  faint  em- 
blem of  him  to  his  presence. 

1.  Assuming  that  they  were  astrono- 
mers, we  perceive  in  this  miraculous  guide 
the  condescension  of  God.  Wo  learn  that 
he  often  meets  man  in  man's  own  paths. 

It  was  the  ordinary  employment  of  these 
philosophers  to  contemplate  the  heavens. 
This  was  the  work  assigned  them  by  Provi- 
dence, and  expected  from  them  by  their 
fellow-men.  In  this  employment,  the  Lord 
reveals  to  them  a  Saviour. 

And  herein  he  acted  only  in  conformity 
with  his  usual  ways.  David  was  taken 
from  the  sheep-fold  to  be  anointed  king. 
Gideon  was  in  his  father's  barn,  when  he 
was  called  to  deliver  Israel.  "  According 
to  the  custom  of  his  office,"  Zacharias  was 
burning  incense  in  the  temple,  when  the 
angel  of  the  Lord  promised  him  joy  and 
gladness  in  a  son ;  and  when  the  multi- 


tude of  the  heavenly  host  sung  of  a  new- 
born Saviour,  none  on  earth  heard  them 
save  shepherds  who  were  "  keeping  watch 
over  their  flocks  by  night."  Matthew  was 
called  from  "  the  receipt  of  custom"  to 
follow  Christ,  and  the  fishermen  Peter,  and 
James,  and  John,  were  casting  a  net  into 
the  sea,  when  our  Lord  called  them  to  be 
"  fishers  of  men."  The  inference  we  draw 
is  this — we  need  not  go  out  of  our  station 
to  seek  God  ;  we  need  not  lay  aside  the 
ordinary  duties  of  life  to  find  God  ;  we 
need  not  strike  into  new  and  unusual  paths 
in  order  to  honor  him. 

We  are  all  tempted  to  think  that  we  are 
not  in  our  right  place  ;  that  our  souls  would 
prosper  more  and  the  Redeemer  be  glorified 
by  us  more,  could  we  make  some  change 
in  our  situation,  or  disentangle  ourselves 
from  some  of  its  cares  and  duties.  But  are 
we  where  God  placed  us,  and  where  God 
evidently  keeps  us  ?  Are  our  employmentss 
honest,  such  as  we  may  carry  on  without 
violating  the  divine  law  ?  Then,  whatever 
our  feelings  may  say,  there  is  not  on  earth, 
no,  nor  in  heaven,  a  situation  where  we 
could  bring  more  glory  to  Jehovah,  or  draw 
out  of  Jehovah  more  abundant  mercy. 
Were  there  such  a  spot,  we  should  be  on  it 
in  a  moment.  Though  it  lay  at  the  utmost 
bounds  of  the  creation,  he  whose  "  work  is 
perfect,"  whose  love  to  us  is  boundless,  and 
whose  ability  to  do  us  good  is  infinite,  would 
at  once  find  it  out,  and  place  us  in  it.  But 
he  says,  "  I  will  come  to  thee  where  I  have 
placed  thee,  and  there  will  I  be  found  of 
thee.  No  distance,  no  cares,  no  turmoil, 
shall  hide  thee  from  me.  Thou  shalt  see 
me  where  thou  lookest  not  for  me.  I  will 
give  thee  vineyards  in  the  wilderness,  and 
waters  in  the  desert.  Stand  thou  still,  and 
see  my  salvation." 

2.  This  star  exhibits  to  us  also  the  great- 
ness of  God.  It  says  that  he  often  puts  much 
honor  on  Christ  hij  the  means  which  he  makes 
use  of  to  lead  sinners  to  him. 

In  the  first  instance,  like  these  wise  men, 
we  are  generally  led  to  the  Lord  Jesus  as 
an  abased  Saviour ;  as  One  sustaining  a 
character  which  harmonizes  much  better 
with  the  manger  and  the  cross,  than  with 
the  crown  or  the  throne.  We  look  on  him 
as  the  "  despised  and  rejected"  Son  of  man  ; 
the  mind  contemplates  liim  as  wounded  and 
bruised,  crucified  and  slain,  "  redeeming  us 
from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a 
curse  for  us."     But  yet,  in  some  way  or 


THE  VISIT  OF  THE  WISE  MEN  OF  THE  EAST  TO  CHRIST. 


175 


Other,  the  greatness  of  Christ  generally 
bursts  out  amidst  this  degradation.  No  an- 
gel comes  down  from  above  to  tell  us  that 
he  is  the  Lord,  no  new  star  shines  forth  in 
the  heavens  to  declare  his  glory  ;  but  God 
so  orders  the  means  of  our  conviction  ;  em- 
ploys such  instruments  to  enlighten,  con- 
vert, and  subdue  us ;  and  makes  his  hand 
so  visible  in  every  part  of  that  blessed  work 
which  lie  accomplishes  by  them  in  our 
hearts,  that  a  man  at  noonday  might  as  well 
doubt  whether  the  sun  has  risen,  as  a  sin- 
ner draw  near  to  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and 
not  see  in  him  an  honor  that  is  divine.  His 
glory  and  his  Father's  are  displayed  to- 
gether ;  displayed,  not  merely  by  the  grace 
they  impart  and  the  wonderful  salvation 
they  bestow,  but  by  the  means  that  have 
taught  us  our  need  of  that  grace,  by  the 
way  a  God  of  wisdom  has  chosen  to  make 
that  salvation  our  own.  Look  at  these  phi- 
losophers amid  their  native  mountains.  A 
messenger  from  Bethlehem  might  have 
brought  them  to  Jesus  ;  a  report  of  his  birth 
would  have  soon  prostrated  them  at  his 
feet ;  but  no.  The  Son  of  the  Highest  is 
lying  in  a  manger,  the  King  of  glory  is  de- 
spised on  the  earth  he  is  born  to  save  ;  the 
heavens  above  him  therefore  shall  proclaim 
his  majesty,  inanimate  nature  shall  bear 
witness  to  her  Lord.  At  his  Father's  bid- 
ding, an  unknown  star  places  these  Gen- 
tiles by  his  side,  and  testifies  to  their  aston- 
ished minds  his  hidden  greatness. 

3.  Behold  further  here  the  compassion 
and  care  of  God.  He  adapts  his  guidance 
to  our  necessities.  He  gives  us  no  reason 
to  look  for  extraordinary  help,  when  the 
common  means  of  grace  are  sufficient  to 
lead  us  to  him  ;  but  rather  than  suffer  one 
humble  soul  to  seek  his  face  in  vain,  he 
will  shake  heaven  and  earth,  he  will  come 
out  of  his  place,  to  be  its  instructor  and 
guide. 

He  had  taught  these  learned  men  to  ex- 
pect a  Saviour.  No  sooner  does  tliat  Sa- 
viour appear  in  a  distant  land,  than  a  mir- 
acle is  wrought  to  make  known  to  them  his 
birth.  His  star  shows  itself  to  them  in  the 
east,  docs  its  errand,  and  then  disappears. 
Judcea,  it  is  obvious,  had  been  pointed  out 
before  as  the  place  of  his  nativity.  To  Je- 
rusalem therefore,  its  cliief  city,  they  luir- 
ried.  When  there,  they  could  learn  from 
the  priests  and  scribes  where  Christ  was  to 
be  born.  On  tliis  point,  no  divine  instruc- 
tion was  needed ;   and  accordingly  none 


was  given.  But  when  they  had  left  Jeru- 
salem, when  they  were  on  their  way  to 
Bethlehem,  and  might  be  unable  to  ascer- 
tain in  that  strange  and  now  crowded  vil- 
lage the  Saviour's  dwelling,  tlie  star  again 
shines  forth,  their  welcome  and  almost  ex- 
ulting guide.  "  Lo,"  says  the  half-won- 
dering historian,  "  the  star  which  they  saw 
in  the  east  went  before  them,  till  it  came 
and  stood  over  where  the  young  child  was." 
And  then  he  adds,  "  When  they  saw  the 
star,  they   rejoiced  with  exceeding  great 

joy-" 

And  is  this  any  thing  more,  Christian 
brethren,  than  an  external  representation 
of  what  has  taken  place,  unseen  by  mortal 
eye,  in  our  souls  ?  There  have  been  times 
in  which  the  light  that  once  shone  so  bright- 
ly on  us  from  lieaven,  has  disappeared. 
We  have  been  perplexed  in  our  way  to 
God  ;  content  perhaps  to  go  anywhere  or 
do  any  thing  at  his  command,  but  not  know- 
ing whither  to  go  or  what  he  would  have 
us  to  do.  And  this  darkness  has  not  been 
for  an  hour.  It  has  continued  so  long,  that 
we  have  sometimes  thought  the  light  would 
never  break  on  us  again,  that  we  should  be 
left  to  go  along  a  path  of  wretchedness  to  a 
world  of  unbroken  despair.  An<l  how  has 
all  this  ended  ?  As  our  fears  predicted  ? 
O  no  !  We  inquired  for  Christ ;  we  sought 
him ;  the  morning,  as  it  rose,  found  us  in 
prayer  to  him  ;  the  sun,  as  it  set,  left  us 
thirsting  for  his  presence  ;  and  where  are 
we  now  ?  Nearer  to  him  perhaps  than  he 
ever  drew  us  before;  almost  where  these 
happy  Gentiles  were — at  his  feet.  The 
light  that  was  sown  for  us,  has  sprung  up ; 
he  "  who  sitteth  between  the  cherubim" 
has  shone  forth.  The  consequence  is,  our 
perplexities  have  all  vanished  ;  tlie  oppres- 
sion that  bore  down  our  spirits,  has  vanish- 
ed with  them ;  and,  instead  of  feverish 
anxieties  and  restless  doubts,  a  peace  has 
been  given  us,  if  not  as  sweet  as  the  peace 
of  heaven,  yet  so  calm,  so  strengthening,  so 
rlcvating,  that  let  others  deem  it  what  they 
will,  it  is  to  us  a  pledge  and  a  foretaste  of 
eternal  joys.  Tt  cannot  be  otherwise.  We 
feel,  as  we  experience  it,  Jehovah's  power 
and  Jehovali's  faithfulness.  He  has  brought 
us  "  in  a  way  that  we  knew  not ;"  he  has 
led  us  "  in  paths  that  we  had  not  known;" 
he  has  made  "  darkness  light  before  us,  and 
crooked  things  straight ;"  and  we  are  as 
sure  as  though  a  voice  from  the  skies  pro- 
claimed it,  that  he  will  never  leave  nor 


176 


THE  VISIT  OF  THE  WISE  MEN  OF  THE  EAST  TO  CHRIST. 


forsake  us,  that  "  he  will  guide  us  by  his 
counsel,  and  receive  us  to  his  glory."  "  We 
can  say  with  exultation  and  confidence,  and 
say  it  of  him  who  rules  in  the  liighest  heav- 
ens, "  This  God  is  our  God  for  ever  and 
ever ;  he  will  be  our  guide  even  unto 
death." 

III.  Notice  now  the  conduct  of  these  men. 

1.  And  the  first  point  which  calls  for 
our  attention  here,  is  that  which  was  the 
spring  of  all  we  admire  in  them — their 
faith. 

We  are  often  told  that  men  of  learning 
and  science  have  peculiar  difficulties  to 
struggle  with  in  their  Christian  course. 
The  pride  of  the  understanding,  it  is  said, 
opposes  itself  to  the  humiliating  doctrines 
of  the  cross,  and  habits  of  reasoning  indis- 
pose and  almost  disqualify  the  mind  for  a 
simple  exercise  of  faith.  Be  it  so  ;  it  prob- 
ably often  is  so.  But  what  then  ?  Is  a 
corrupt  mind  a  greater  evil  than  a  debased 
heart  ?  Is  a  proud  understanding  harder 
to  be  subdued,  than  polluted  affections  ? 
Are  habits  of  thought  more  inveterate  than 
habits  of  sin  ?  And  what  if  they  were  ? 
Were  all  the  pride  that  swells  in  every 
soul,  heaped  together  in  any  one  soul,  an 
omnipotent  God  could  beat  "it  down  in  a 
moment ;  and,  in  another  moment,  "  bring 
every  thought"  within  that  soul  "  into  cap- 
tivity to  the  obedience  of  Christ."  He  may 
find  a  difference  between  man  and  man, 
but  when  he  leads  men  to  his  Son,  he  lays 
them  all  down  alike  before  him,  or  some- 
times he  lays  the  highest  and  proudest  the 
most  low.  Look  at  Paul,  the  learned,  rea- 
soning, strong-minded  Paul.  Not  one  of 
the  fishermen  of  Galilee  received  the  truth 
in  greater  simplicity  than  that  man,  or  held 
it  with  a  firmer  grasp.  His  noble  under- 
standing became'  the  ally  of  his  faith.  It 
gave  an  extent  to  his  view,  an  elevation  to 
his  glance,  which  often  enabled  him  to  see, 
where  others  could  only  believe.  It  Imd, 
it  may  be,  its  trials  and  dangers,  but  high 
indeed  were  its  enjoyments  and  splendid  its 
triumphs.  And  look  at  these  philosophers 
of  the  east.  Their  faith  was  simple  as  the 
faith  of  a  little  child  ;  and  so  strong,  that 
nothing  could  shake  it.  When  they  came 
to  Jerusalem,  they  undoubtedly  expected  to 
find  the  city  resounding  with  acclamations 
at  the  birth  of  its  King  :  ])ut  none  of  its 
people  had  even  heard  of  hLs  birth  ;  and 
wlicn  they  were  told  of  it,  they  were  trou- 
bled at  the  tidings.     These  Gentiles,  how- 


ever, stood  firm.  Not  one  doubt  do  they 
express  of  the  fact;  the  only  question  they 
ask  is,  "  Where  is  he  ?"  And  when  they 
were  actually  in  his  presence,  what  a  trial 
for  their  faith  was  there  !  With  their  east- 
ern notions  of  royal  magnificence,  a  king 
in  a  stable  and  a  manger,  or  even  in  a 
peasant's  hut,  must  have  appeared  to  them 
an  almost  confounding  spectacle  ;  more 
startling,  if  not  more  marvellous,  than  his 
star  in  the  skies.  But  it  mattered  not. 
They  wondered  perhaps,  but  yet  they  be- 
lieved. 

2.  And  notice  the  moral  greatness  they 
exhibited.  There  was  a  loftiness  in  their 
conduct,  that  elevation  of  judgment  and 
feeling,  about  which  the  men  of  the  world 
may  talk,  but  which  none,  save  a  man  of 
God,  can  either  possess  or  understand. 

Behold  them  as  they  enter  Jerusalem, 
inquiring  in  the  presence  of  the  tyrant  Her- 
od for  another  and  a  more  rightful  owner  to 
the  very  throne  he  sat  on  ;  and  avowing, 
among  the  reckless  and  perhaps  scoffing 
people,  their  conviction  of  his  advent,  and 
their  determination  to  honor  him.  "  We 
have  seen  his  star,"  said  they,  "  and  are 
come  to  worship  him."  That  was  the  vic- 
tory of  faith  over  the  fear  of  man  ;  now 
behold  its  victory  over  worldly  expecta- 
tions and  worldly  prejudices.  Mark  how 
it  penetrates  through  discouraging  appear- 
ances, counteracts  their  influence,  and  gives 
to  the  winds  long  cherished  feelings.  These 
men  of  the  east,  the  region  of  princely  state 
and  splendor,  can  see  in  a  helpless  infant 
an  object  of  adoration,  can  bow  down  in  a 
cottage  to  one  whom  they  had  expected  to 
find  admired  in  a  palace,  or  worshipped  on 
a  throne. 

Brethren,  the  things  with  which  the  faith 
of  the  heaven-taught  Christian  is  convcrs- 
ant,  are  high  things.  Their  greatness  is  a 
greatness  of  the  noblest  kind,  a  spiritual 
and  moral  greatness,  and  they  teach  him 
to  measure  all  he  sees  by  a  moral  stand- 
ard. They  assimilate  his  mind  to  them- 
selves.  His  taste  becomes  elevated.  The 
tinsel  of  the  world  now  appears  to  him  as 
tinsel.  He  can  look  through  it  ;  he  can 
despise  it.  He  can  sec  the  meanness 
which  it  often  aims  to  hide,  and  admire 
the  grandeur  which  the  want  of  it  cannot 
impair.  If  you  wish  to  see  man  in  his 
dignity,  if  you  are  inquiring  for  a  soaring 
mind,  a  lofty  spirit,  or  an  expanded  heart, 
you  may  find  it  even  on  this  base  earth  ; 


THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 


177 


but  you  must  go  for  it,  not  to  the  stately 
mansion  and  the  irlittering  palace,  but  to 
the  Christian's  home  ;  and  to  see  it  best, 
you  must  go  there  when  the  man  seems 
stripped  bare  of  all  his  greatness,  when  the 
hand  of  heaven  is  on  him,  and,  like  Job,  he 
has  nothing  left  him  but  his  sorrow,  his  re- 
ligion, and  his  God. 

3.  Observe  one  feature  more  in  the  con- 
duct we  are  examining — the  devotedness  of 
these  ?>ien  to  Christ. 

Tliev  undoubtedly  believed  on  him  as 
the  promised  Messiah,  and  looked  to  him, 
in  that  character,  for  spiritual  mercies  ; 
but  not  one  word  appears  in  this  history  of 
any  blessing  they  sought  or  expected  from 
him.  He  is  spoken  of  only  as  a  King,  and 
the  sole  object  they  profess  to  have  in  view 
in  their  journey  to  him,  is  not,  like  that  of 
the  dying  malefactor,  that  he  may  remem- 
ber thciii  in  his  kingdom,  but  that  they 
may  lie  down  in  the  dust  before  him,  and 
honor  him  there.  "  We  are  come,"  said 
they,  "  to  worship  him."  And  they  did  not 
content  tbemselves  with  an  empty  homage. 
They  had  brought  with  them  to  Bethlehem 
such  gifts  as  the  great  men  of  the  east  were 
accustomed  to  present  to  their  monarchs, 
gold,  and  frankincense,  and  myrrh  ;  and 
though  they  knew  not  how  these  could  ben- 
efit him,  they  offered  them  to  their  infant 
Lord.  And  they  appear  to  have  rejoiced 
as  they  offered  them.  The  tribute  they 
rendered  to  him  was  evidently  no  cold  ser- 
vice of  duty  ;  it  was  the  dictate  of  feeling, 
the  natural  expression  of  the  thankfulness, 
and  admiration,  and  love,  which  God  had 
put  in  their  hearts.  Had  the  wealth  of  the 
whole  world  been  theirs,  they  would  have 
deemed  themselves  honored  to  be  allowed 
to  cast  it  at  his  feet. 

Brethren,  what  know  you  of  this  devoted- 
ness ?  Referring  to  the  days  of  the  Gen- 
tile church,  the  psalmist  says,  "  The  kings 
of  Tarshish  and  of  the  isles  shall  bring 
presents  ;  the  kings  of  Sheba  and  Seba 
shall  offer  gifts."  Isaiah  declares  that 
when  "  they  from  Sheba  shall  come,  they 
shall  bring  gold  and  incense,  and  they  shall 
show  forth  the  praises  of  the  Lord."  The 
question  then  recurs,  what  gifts  have  you 
laid  down  before  him  ?  What  praise  have 
you  rendered  him  ?  What  honor  have  you 
done  him  ?  Say  not  that  you  are  nothing, 
and  can  do  nothing,  and  can  give  nothing. 
He  well  knows  what  you  arc,  and  yet  he 
has  condescended  to  ask  a  gift  at  your 
23 


hands.  He  stands  almost  as  a  suppliant 
before  you.  He  asks  of  you  your  hearts, 
yourselves,  all  you  have  to  bestow,  your 
souls  and  bodies  which  are  his.  To  pro- 
fess to  come  to  him  and  worship  him,  and 
yet  to  refuse  him  his  own  ;  to  keep  back 
from  him  every  thing  that  the  world  will 
accept ;  to  live  regardless  of  his  honor  ;  to 
place  ease,  or  reputation,  or  pleasure,  or 
money,  or  any  thing,  above  him  in  the 
heart ;  like  the  men  of  Jerusalem,  to  hear 
of  an  incarnate  Saviour,  and  yet  to  be  de- 
termined that  he  shall  influence  none  of 
your  actions  and  interfere  with  none  of  your 
pursuits  ; — these  converted  heathen  shall 
rise  up  in  the  judgment,  and  condemn  such 
a  religion  as  this.  They  saw  him  only  as 
a  Babe  of  yesterday,  but  their  costliest 
treasures  were  his ;  we  profess  to  look  on 
him  as  a  King  in  his  glory,  clothed  with 
light  as  a  garment,  and  ruling  heaven  and 
earth  by  his  word  ;  and  yet  all  the  service 
and  gifts  that  we  offer  him,  are  the  world's 
refuse,  the  very  dregs  of  our  affections,  the 
fragments  of  our  thoughts  and  time.  This 
is  not  Christianity.  It  is  a  pretence,  a  de- 
lusion. I  will  not  say  it  mocks  God  ;  it 
mocks  and  is  ruining  you.  O  that  you 
were  enlightened  to  discover  its  true  char- 
acter !  You  would  start  at  its  hollowness. 
Like  the  stricken  Paul,  you  would  tremble 
and  be  astonished.  O  for  a  religion  like 
that  of  these  converted  heathen  !  a  religion 
which  leads  through  every  obstacle  to 
Christ,  rejoices  with  exceeding  joy  as  it 
finds  him,  lies  down  in  conscious  abase- 
ment before  him,  is  elevated  almost  to 
heaven  by  a  sight  of  his  majesty  and  love, 
and  finds  its  chief  joy  and  its  noblest  honor  in 
its  efforts  to  give  the  King  of  glory  his  own. 


SERMON    XXXIII. 

THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

Numbers  xvi.  48. 

He  stood  between  the  dead  and  the  living,  and  the 
plague  was  stayed. 

Thk  dead  here  referred  to  consisted  of  a 
fearful  multitude.  "  They  that  died,"  the 
next  verse  tells  us,  "  were  fourteen  thou- 
sand and  seven  hundred."  And  they  ap- 
pear to  have  all  died  instantaneously  and 


178 


THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


in  a  mass.  The  plague  came  upon  tliem 
as  they  were  gatliered  together  in  one  im- 
mense assembly  around  the  tabernacle  in 
the  wilderness,  not  attacking  them  one  by 
one  and  sending  them  home  to  sicken  and 
die  in  their  tents,  but  sweeping  them  down 
where  they  stood.  Ard  why  this  rapid  and 
tremendous  judgment  ?  To  answer  this 
question,  let  us  look,  in  the  first  place,  at 
the  origin  of  this  plague  ;  and  then,  that 
we  may  have  another  instance  of  the  di- 
vine mercy  fixed  in  our  memories,  let  us 
pass  on  to  the  cessation  of  it. 

I.  To  say  that  this  evil  had  its  origin  in 
sin,  would  be  to  say  nothing.  All  evil  pro- 
ceeds from  sin  :  there  is  not  a  pang  or  sor- 
row in  the  universe,  which  has  not  this  as 
its  source.  But  then  suffering  owes  its  ex- 
istence to  sin  in  various  ways.  Sometimes 
it  is  sent  in  mercy  to  prevent  sin  ;  thus 
Paul  had  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  "  lest  he 
should  be  exalted."  At  other  times,  it 
comes  to  discover  sin  and  subdue  it  in  the 
Christian's  heart.  "  Before  I  was  afilict- 
ed,"  says  David,  "  I  went  astray,  but  now 
have  I  kept  thy  word."  More  frequently, 
however,  its  design  is  to  answer  the  pur- 
poses of  God's  moral  government ;  to  pun- 
ish sin ;  to  manifest  the  abhorrence  in 
which  the  great  Ruler  of  the  universe  holds 
it,  and  thus  to  deter  his  creatures  from  the 
compiission  of  it.  And  such  was  its  object 
here.  The  Israelites  had  sinned  against 
the  Lord  ;  this  plague  was  the  punishment 
of  their  sin. 

And-  now  perhaps  we  are  ready  to  set 
these  men  before  us  as  guilty  of  some  enor- 
mous crime  ;  but  look  to  the  history.  The 
only  offence  we  find  recorded  against  them 
was  this — they  had  murmured,  and  that 
not  against  (jod,  but  against  Moses  and 
Aaron,  men  like  themselves.  But  how 
different  often  is  sin  from  what  sin  appears  ! 
It  seems  a  very  trifle,  an  affront  offered  to 
a  fellow.worm  ;  but  it  strikes  at  the  Holy 
•One  of  Israel.  Strip  it  of  its  disguise,  it 
comes  out  disobedience,  rebellion,"against 
the  King  of  kings. 

1.  This  offence  involved  in  it  an  over- 
looking of  GofVs  providence  ;  at  all  events, 
a  refusing  to  acknowledge  it. 

"  Ye  have  killed  the  people  of  the  Lord," 
said  the  Israelites  to  Moses  and  Aaron. 
Nothing  could  be  more  untrue.  Korah, 
Dathan,  and  Abiram,  had  excited  a  rebel- 
lion in  the  camp.  Contrary  lo  the  divine 
appointment,  one  of  them  had  aspired  to 


the  priesthood  in  the  church,  the  others,  to 
supreme  sway  in  the  state.  God  would  not 
bear  this  contempt  of  his  authority.  He 
wrought  immediately  two  miracles  to  show 
his  indignation.  The  earth  first  opened 
her  mouth,  and  swallowed  up  Dathan  and 
Abiram  with  their  families ;  and  then 
"  there  came  out  a  fire  from  the  Lord,  and 
consumed  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  men 
that  offered  incense"  with  Korah. 

Now  some  in  our  day  would  have  re- 
solved these  tremendous  judgments  into  ac- 
cidents, distressing  casualties.  They  would 
have  talked  to  us  of  natural  causes ;  and 
though  no  causes  at  all  adequate  to  effects 
so  fearful  could  be  found,  yet  something  in 
nature  would  have  been  discovered  or  im- 
agined  and  then  magnified,  till  God  and  his 
agency,  miracle  and  judgment,  had  ah  dis. 
appeared.  The  Israelites  acted  not  thus  ; 
but  they  acted  in  a  like  spirit.  "  This  des- 
olation," they  said,  "  is  the  work  of  Moses 
and  Aaron.  It  comes  out  of  tyranny  and 
priestcraft."  They  charged  their  rulers 
with  destroying  the  people.  And  hence 
God  laid  bare  his  arm.  To  vindicate  his 
own  providence,  to  force  the  nation  to  see 
that  he  had  been  the  author  of  the  judg- 
ments they  had  witnessed,  he  strikes  a  blow 
which  no  mortal  arm  could  have  inflicted  ; 
so  rapid,  so  destructive,  so  awful,  that  un- 
belief itself  must  have  been  compelled  to 
ascribe  it  to  his  omnipotent  hand.  As  it 
were  in  a  moment,  fourteen  thousand  of  the 
people  shiver  and  drop  in  the  wilderness. 

We  must  take  heed  how  we  push  God 
out  of  his  own  world.  He  really  is  its 
Governor.  He  is  as  much  the  source  of 
the  natural  evils  that  lay  it  Avaste,  as  of  the 
mercies  that  gladden  it.  And  he  is  deter- 
mined to  be  seen  and  acknowledged  as 
such.  "I  am  the  Lord,"  he  says,  "and 
there  is  none  else."  "  I  form  the  light  and 
create  darkness.  I  make  peace  and  create 
evil.  I  the  Lord  do  all  these  things." 
"  The  Lord  is  known,"  says  the  psalmist 
— his  existence,  his  authority,  his  provi- 
dence, are  all  known — "  by  the  judgment 
which  he  executcth."  We  may  go  further 
yet.  He  claims  for  himself  as  its  author, 
even  the  wo  that  is  appalling  an  eternal 
world.  He  will  be  recognised  as  the 
builder  of  hell  itself.  "  Tophet  is  ordained 
of  old,"  says  the  prophet ;  "  he  hath  made 
it  deep  and  large  ;  the  pile  thereof  is  fire 
and  much  wood  ;"  and  tlien  he  adds,  "the 
breath  of  the  Lord,  like  a  stream  of  brim- 


THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


179 


stone,  doth  kindle  it."  The  wrath  that 
burns  in  eternity,  is  called  "  the  wrath  of 
the  Lamb."  It  is  described  as  coming 
from  that  very  Saviour  who  is  enthroned  in 
the  heavens  in  a  form  of  mercy,  and  is  the 
light,  and  life,  and  glory,  of  that  world  of 
jov.  These  are  awful  declarations,  but 
they  are  as  true  as  they  are  awful.  Hap- 
py for  us  if  we  are  willing  to  acknowledge 
their  truth.  We  must  come  to  this  ac- 
knowledgment in  the  end.  God  will  not 
allow  us  to  say  forever,  "  Accident  brought 
this  evil  on  me,  chance  this  disease,  a  cas- 
ualty this  bereavement,  the  injustice  or 
treachery  of  my  fellow-man  this  loss  and 
poverty."  Either  by  his  Spirit,  or  by  his 
providence,  or  by  both,  God  will  drive  this 
atheism  out  of  us.  He  will  force  us  to 
say,  "  It  is  the  Lord.  He  is  in  this  place, 
and  I  knew  it  not.  Verily  there  is  a  God 
that  judgeth  in  the  earth." 

2.  The  murmuring  of  these  sinners  in- 
cluded in  it  also  a  daring  censure  of  God's 
ways. 

Whatever  God  does  bears  the  impress  of 
God.  In  some  way  or  other,  it  manifests 
his  perfections,  and  consequently  is  calcu- 
lated to  bring  honor  to  his  name.  Now  a 
mind  in  a  right  state  praises  him  for  every 
work  of  his  hands  ;  and  it  does  so  on  ac- 
count of  the  traces  of  his  glory  it  either  dis- 
covers in  that  work,  or,  though  hidden,  be- 
lieves to  be  there.  Indeed  this  is  God's 
great  design  in  all  his  doings,  to  draw  forth 
praise  from  his  creatures  by  revealing  to 
them  his  excellences,  and  thus  to  surround 
himself  with  a  delighted  and  adoring  uni- 
verse. It  follows  then  that  to  censure  any 
of  God's  ways,  is,  as  far  as  in  us  lies,  to 
frustrate  the  object  at  which  God  aims  in 
tiiese  ways ;  to  rob  him  of  his  honor,  and 
worse  tlian  thi.s — to  asperse  his  character 
and  vindicate  his  enemies.  And  of  this 
oHence  these  Israelites  were  guilty.  They 
do  not  indeed  expressly  .say  that  Korah  and 
his  companions  were  unjustly  destroyed, 
but  they  plainly  intimate  that  such  was  the 
fact.  Tliey  stand  up  for  them  ;  they  honor 
them  by  calling  them  "the  people  of  the 
Lord  ;"  they  manifest  a  secret  approbation 
of  their  oflVnce,  and  an  opnn  regret  at  their 
doom.  A\1ien  the  F^gyptians  were  over- 
whelmed, thoy  made  the  shores  of  the  Red 
Sea  re-echo  with  tiieir  song  of  praise.  Then 
the  Lord,  they  said,  "  had  triumphed  glo- 
riously;" "  he  was  glorious  in  holiness,  fear- 
ful in  praises,  doing  wonders."     They  ap- 


pear to  have  set  no  bounds  to  their  exulting 
adoration.  But  these  Egyptians  were  their 
enemies.  Now  their  companions  and  rela-» 
tives  have  perished  beneath  Jeliovah's  arm, 
and  no  matter  how  guilty  the  men  were, 
how  closely  resembling  in  tiieir  impiety  and 
presumption  Pharaoli  and  his  host,  their 
overthrow  is  regarded  as  an  injury  done  to 
the  nation  ;  it  is  injustice,  cruelty,  murder: 
"the  people  murmured." 

All  this  was  natural,  but  it  wasnot  right. 
Let  nature  say  what  it  will,  let  the  feelings 
of  an  anguished  heart  prompt  what  they 
may,  "  the  Lord  is  rigiitcous  in  all  his  ways, 
and  holy  in  all  his  works  ;"  as  righteous, 
and  holy,  and  perhaps  as  gracious  too,  in 
those  very  judgments  which  desolate  our 
families  and  wring  our  souls,  as  in  the  mer- 
cies  which  come  to  us  the  most  undisguised 
and  yield  us  the  greatest  joy.  We  must 
strive  to  glorify  him  for  both.  Christian 
charity  indeed  "  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity  ;" 
she  takes  no  pleasure  in  witnessing  pain 
and  misery;  like  her  divine  Lord,  she  weeps 
over  a  dying  world,  and  she  mourns  over  a 
burning  hell ;  yet  consistently  with  herself, 
she  may  exult  in  the  suppression  of  tri- 
umphant wickedness  ;  she  may,  she  does, 
she  must,  adore  her  God,  for  putting  down 
his  foes.  They  are  mischievous  in  his  crea- 
tion ;  they  are  scattering  around  the  seeds 
of  misery  and  death  ;  and  mercy  to  a  suf- 
fering world  requires  him  to  crush  their 
power.  Many  of  us  dislike  to  hear  the  term 
"justice"  applied  to  God,  for  we  attach  to 
it  the  idea  of  something  vindictive  in  the 
divine  mind  ;  but  in  such  a  world  as  ours, 
or  in  any  world,  a  benevolent  ruler  must 
be  a  just  ruler,  he  must  make  distinctions 
between  the  evil  and  the  good,  he  dares  not 
•'  bear  the  sword  in  vain."  Place  a  God 
of  love  on  a  throne,  and  he  becomes,  he  must 
become,  a  God  of  justice  ;  his  love  compels 
him  to  arm  his  right  hand  with  venfjeance, 
and  to  make  the  workers  of  iniquity  feel  its 
stroke.  A  governor  wlio  would  treat  alike 
vice  and  virtue,  could  not  reign  long  over 
one  petty  kingdom  of  the  earth,  could  not 
rule  a  single  parish  of  our  own  kingdom,  no, 
nor  a  single  house  ;  how  much  less  this  huge 
world,  a  mighty  universe,  a  crowded  earth 
and  an  almost  boundless  heaven  ! 

Look  up  to  Jehovali's  own  peaceful  dwell- 
ing place.  It  is  a  region  of  the  purest,  the 
most  intense  and  unfailing  love  ;  the  birth- 
place of  love,  its  home  ;  but  mark  how  the 
just  judgments  of  the  Lord  are  regarded 


180 


THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 


there.  In  the  Revelation  of  Saint  John, 
the  fall  of  Babylon  is  predicted.  It  is  to 
be  sudden,  complete,  final.  And  what  is 
to  follow  ?  On  earth,  lamentation  and 
mourning  over  her  fate.  The  kings  of  the 
earth  are  described  as  "  bewailing"  her ; 
the  merchants  of  the  earth  "  weep"  over 
her ;  the  people  who  had  come  in  ships  to 
her  borders,  "cry  and  cast  dust  on  their 
heads,"  when  they  see  her  smoke.  No- 
thing is  heard  on  every  side  but,  "  Alas, 
alas,  that  great  city  Babylon !  that  mighty 
city  !"  The  whole  world  appears  ready  to 
break  out  into  open  indignation  and  mur- 
muring at  the  severity  of  her  doom.  And 
now  go  up  into  heaven.  There  not  a  tear 
is  shed  over  her  desolation,  not  a  complaint 
uttered.  One  moment,  as  she  sinks  into 
ruin,  there  seems  to  be  a  silence  of  awe  and 
wonder  ;  the  next,  a  burst  of  praise.  "  A 
great  voice  of  much  people  is  heard  in  heav- 
en, saying,  Alleluia!  Salvation,  and  glory, 
and  honor,  unto  the  Lord  our  God  ;  for  true 
and  righteous  are  his  judgments."  And 
again  they  said,  "  Alleluia  !"  And  a  third 
time  the  cry  is  raised,  "  Alleluia  !"  And 
even  then  the  adoration  of  heaven  has  not 
reached  its  height.  "  A  voice,"  says  the 
wondering  John,  "  came  out  of  the  throne, 
saying,  Praise  our  God,  all  ye  his  servants, 
and  ye  that  fear  him,  both  small  and  great ;" 
and  then  comes  the  mighty  chorus  of 
heaven's  song  ;  "  I  heard  as  it  were  the 
voice  of  a  great  multitude,  and  as  the  voice 
of  many  waters,  and  as  the  voice  of  mighty 
thunderings,  saying,  Alleluia  !  for  the  Lord 
God  omnipotent  reigneth."  And  what  ought 
to  be  our  answer  ?  "  So  let  all  thine  ene- 
mies perish,  O  God;  but  let  them  that  love 
thee,  bo  as  the  sun  when  he  goeth  forth  in 
his  might." 

3.  There  was  yet  a  third  evil  compre- 
hended in  the  murmuring  of  these  Israel- 
ites ;  and  this  was  a  contcm2)t  of  GocVs 
warnings. 

The  judgments  they  had  lately  seen  in- 
flicted on  their  countrymen,  were  of  a  very 
awful  character.  I<>von  in  that  age  of  won- 
ders, a  gaping  earth  and  descending  flames 
were  no  ordinary  occurrences.  Their  ob- 
ject was  evident.  It  was  to  remove  evil 
out  of  the  camp,  and  to  warn  the  whole  na- 
tion againsuliscontent  and  rebellion.  Elca- 
zar,  the  son  of  Aaron,  is  accordingly  told 
to  take  up  the  censers  in  which  some  of  the 
offenders  had  dared  to  burn  incense,  and  to 
make  of  them  "  broad  plates  lor  a  covering 


of  the  altar."  In  this  situation,  they  were  to 
be  "  a  sign,"  a  conspicuous  and  fearful 
memorial,  "to  the  children  of  Israel"  of 
the  divine  indignation.  And  what  regard 
did  they  pay  to  this  sign  and  to  the  terrible 
judgments  it  represented  ?  Did  they  trem- 
ble, and  weep,  and  set  aside  days  and  weeks 
to  humble  themselves  and  pray  ?  "  On 
the  morrow,"  the  very  next  day,  "  all  the 
congi'egation  of  the  children  of  Israel  mur- 
mured." The  earth  had  scarcely  closed 
over  some  of  their  companions,  the  embers 
of  the  fire  that  had  consumed  others  were 
hardly  extinguished,  the  memorial  of  theii 
crime  and  its  punishment  had  been  fasten- 
ed but  a  kw  hours  on  the  altar,  when  the 
whole  camp  Avas  again  in  a  revolt.  Judg- 
ments, and  warnings,  and  portents,  and  pro- 
digies, were  nothing  to  them.  They  gath- 
ered themselves  together,  just  as  they  had 
done  on  the  former  occasion,  and  braved  all 
the  vengeance  of  heaven. 

And  this  is  human  nature,  brethren. 
This  is  the  nature  that  every  one  of  us  in- 
herits, that  you  and  I  perhaps  still  possess 
unaltered  and  unsubdued  ;  the  very  nature 
which  thousands  around  us  extol  as  ration- 
al, and  upright,  and  noble.  O  that  we  may 
never  pass  a  single  day  of  our  lives  with- 
out fervently  praying  that  in  our  case  it 
may  be  renewed  and  changed  !  O  that  we 
may  long  for  nothing  so  much  as  to  have 
done  with  this  nature,  to  be  in  a  world  where 
its  madness  works  no  more  !  Here  it  can 
withstand  any  thing.  It  can  harden  itself 
against  any  mercy,  despise  any  threatening, 
make  light  of,  nay,  forget,  and  forget  in  an 
hour,  any  judgment.  It  can  trifle  amidst 
the  most  appalling  terrors  of  Jehovah's 
providence.  It  can  sport  on  the  borders  of 
the  grave,  and  take  its  ease  on  the  very 
brink  of  destruction. 

A  careless  observer  of  his  fellow-crea- 
tures finds  it  hard  to  credit  tlie  history  of 
the  Jewish  nation  in  the  wilderness.  He 
deems  it  an  extravagant,  overcharged  por- 
trait. Or  if  lie  regards  it  as,  in  the  main, 
a  faithful  narrative,  he  looks  on  the  people 
it  describes  as  standing  alone,  removed  as 
far  from  all  other  men  in  folly  and  crime, 
as  in  mercies  and  privileges.  But  the  man 
who  has  learned  any  thing  of  his  own 
heart,  entertains  no  such  notion.  He  reads 
in  his  own  history,  he  sees  in  his  own  breast, 
a  counterpart  to  Israel's  madness  and  Is- 
rael's guilt.  He  feels  thai  he  has  done  a 
thousand  times  over  the  same  things  tliat 


THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


181 


this  sinful  nation  did,  and  under  circum-  I 
stances  which  appear  to  him  as  aggravated. 
Have  you  never  overlooked  the  divine  pro- 
vidence, brethren  ;  ascribing  to  misfortune 
and  accident  the  work  of  God  ?  Have  you 
never  reasoned  or  talked  as  though  the 
Lord  of  the  heavens  had  abandoned  his 
throne,  and  turned  loose  his  wide  dominions 
to  the  reign  of  chance  ?  Have  you  also 
never  sat  in  judgment  on  God's  ways,  and 
wondered  at  their  severity  ?  never  censur- 
ed his  doings  as  unmerciful,  if  not  unjust? 
Which  of  us  has  not  despised  his  warnings, 
trembling  one  day  at  his  judgments,  and 
making  light  of  them  the  next  ?  in  the  hour 
of  sickness  and  affliction,  resolving  tliat  the 
world  shall  no  longer  engross  our  affections 
and  waste  our  strength  ;  and  then  in  the 
day  of  health  and  quiet,  nay,  before  that 
day,  while  yet  smarting  under  the  conse- 
quences of  disease  or  calamity,  breaking 
these  resolutions,  forgetting  all  we  have 
seen  and  felt  and  promised,  and  becoming 
again  as  much  like  our  former  solves,  as 
much  like  the  rest  of  mankind,  as  much 
like  Israel  of  old,  as  though  we  had  never 
seen  Jehovah's  outstretched  arm,  asthougli 
sickness,  and  death,  and  sorrow,  had  never 
entered  our  houses  or  come  near  our  world  ? 

And  is  all  this  to  go  on  forever  ?  No  ; 
God  will  not  bear  with  it.  "  There  is 
wrath  gone  out  from  the  Lord"  against  us, 
"  the  plague  is  begun."  A  sentence  of  death 
has  been  passed  upon  every  soul  of  man. 
Millions  of  our  race  have  already  perished  ; 
the  destroying  angel  is  hastening  to  cut 
down  millions  more.  The  world  some  of 
us  deem  so  fair  and  happy,  is  nothing  bet- 
ter than  the  camp  of  Israel — a  scene  of 
mercy,  it  is  true,  but  yet  a  scene  of  misery, 
terror,  and  death.  How  anxious  then  should 
we  be  to  look  around  for  a  deliverer ! 
Blessed  be  God,  there  is  one  near.  This 
history  speaks  of  him. 

II.  Consider  now  Ihe  cessation  of  the  pes- 
tilence. 

1.  Tlie  first  remark  we  make  concern- 
ing this,  relates  to  its  Antlior.  //  was  ef- 
fected by  one  who  might  have  heen  supposed 
host  likely  to  interfere  for  such  a  purpose. 

The  rebellion  of  this  perverse  people  was 
directed  against  Moses  and  Aaron.  They 
were  the  objects  of  their  murmurs,  and  ap- 
peared in  danger  of  being  sacrificed  as  vic- 
tims to  their  fury.  But  one  of  these  be- 
came the  instruini^nt  of  their  safety.  No 
sooner  did  Aaron  see  the  peril  they  were 


in,  than  "  he  ran  into  the  midst  of  the  con- 
gregation" to  turn  away  the  divine  indig- 
nation. "  He  stood,"  we  read,  "  between 
the  dead  and  the  living,  and  the  plague  was 
stayed." 

And  can  we  fail  to  discover  here  the 
great  High  Priest  of  God's  guilty  church, 
tlie  despised  and  rejected  Jesus  '?  Aaron 
was  a  type  of  him.  Tiie  scriptures  often 
speak  of  him  in  this  character,  and  in  this 
character  he  undoubtedly  acted,  wiicther 
he  knew  it  or  not,  at  this  time.  Now  just 
as  these  trembling  Jews  found  in  him  an 
intercessor  and  deliverer,  so  may  we,  in  the 
midst  of  our  rebellion  and  sufferings,  find 
in  Christ  Jesus  a  Saviour.  Like  them,  we 
have  provoked  the  Most  High  to  anger  ;  we 
have  forced  a  God  of  mercy  to  become  a 
God  of  vengeance  ;  but  as  in  their  case,  so 
in  ours,  deliverance  comes  from  the  veiy 
source  whence  we  might  well  have  looked 
for  destruction.  God  himself  has  provided 
for  us  a  Saviour.  Nay,  he  himself  has  be- 
come our  Saviour.  It  was  none  other  than 
the  everlasting  Jehovah,  who  appeared  in 
our  world  as  "  the  man  Christ  Jesus,"  and, 
"  while  we  were  yet  enemies,"  wrought 
out  for  us  an  "  eternal  redemption."  The 
offers  of  mercy  too  that  are  still  sent  to  us 
dav  bv  day,  come  from  the  very  Being 
whom  of  ail  beings  we  liave  most  wronged, 
the  order  and  beauty  of  whose  creation  we 
have  marred,  whose  glory  we  have  tar- 
nished, whose  providence  we  have  some- 
times denied  and  sometimes  censured,  wljose 
warnings  we  have  a  thousand  times  mock- 
ed and  are  mocking  still.  We  admire  the 
forbearance  of  Moses  as  he  falls  down  on 
the  earth  and  prays  for  his  reviling  coun- 
trymen, we  wonder  at  the  forgiving  spirit 
of  Aaron  as  he  hastens  to  save  them  ;  but 
think  of  Golgotha  and  Calvary.  O  what 
forbearance  was  that  which  restrained  an 
omnipotent  arm  amidst  contumely  and  in- 
sults, such  as  even  the  abject  tilings  that 
offered  them,  had  scarcely  merited  ;  wliich 
cried,  under  the  most  cruel  wrongs  the 
earth  ever  inflicted,  in  the  bitterest  agony 
the  earth  ever  bore,  "  Father,  forgive 
thera  !"  And  think  of  the  right  hanrl  of 
Jehovah.  We  are  offending  every  moment 
the  exalted  Redeemer  wlio  sits  there,  but 
his  work  of  mercy  still  goes  on.  It  is  as 
true  of  him  now  as  in  the  first  moment  he 
ascended  his  throne,  that  "  he  ever  liveth 
to  make  intercession  for  ns."  We  have 
still  the  same  Advocate  with  the  Father,  as 


182 


THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


he  in  whom  tlie  beloved  John  confided  ;  the 
same  High  Priest  in  the  heavens  as  he  in 
whom  Paul  of  old  glorified — "  Christ,  the 
righteous  ;"  "  Jesus,  the  Son  of  God." 

2.  Tlie  cessation  of  this  -plague  was  at- 
tended with  a  display  of  the  most  self-deny- 
ing and  ardent  love. 

There  is  a  love  that  professes  much  and 
will  perhaps  bear  something  for  its  object, 
but  will  do  very  little.  It  does  not  bestir 
itself;  there  is  nothing  of  what  the  Bible 
calls  "  the  labor  of  love"  about  it.  It  is  a 
sentiment,  rather  than  a  principle.  But 
the  love  of  Aaron  for  Isael  was  not  of  this 
kind.  "  Go  quickly  unto  the  congrega- 
tion," said  Moses  to  him  ;  and  how  did  he 
act  1  He  might  have  pleaded  the  apparent 
uselessness  of  such  a  measure,  its  inconsis- 
tency with  the  dignity  of  his  character,  or 
its  positive  danger.  Nothing  however  of 
this  kind  moved  him,  or,  as  far  as  we  can 
see,  even  occurred  to  him.  Losing  sight 
of  every  selfish  consideration,  he  rushed  at 
once  amidst  the  perishing  throng.  He  took 
his  station  amidst  pestilence  and  death. 
"  He  stood  between  the  dead  and  the  liv- 
ing," absorbed  in  pne  object  ;  a  determin- 
ed, reckless  friend  of  these  guilty  men. 

What  an  example  for  ministers  of  the 
gospel !  What  a  reproof  of  our  coldness 
of  heart,  and  love  of  ease,  and  despicable 
self-indulgence  !  Pray  for  us,  brethren, 
that  we  may  resemble  this  Aaron  ;  that  we 
may  catch  something  of  tlie  self-denial  and 
ardor  of  this  devoted  priest.  But  we  must 
again  look  higher  ;  we  must  again  look 
through  Aaron  to. Aaron's  Lord. 

There  is  a  pestilence  raging  in  our 
world,  a  deadly  pestilence,  the  most  tre- 
mendous evil  the  creation  knows,  fatal  alike 
to  tlie  body  and  the  soul.  None  in  the 
world  has  escaped  it ;  none  can  remove  it. 
Heaven  has  accordingly  come  to  our  re- 
lief. A  stupendous  scheme  of  deliverance 
for  us  has  been  formed  there  ;  and  whence 
did  it  originate  ?  In  precisely  the  same 
feeling  that  placed  the  Jewish  high  priest 
between  the  dead  and  the  living — in  com- 
passion, in  love,  in  pure  benevolence. 
There  was  nothing  in  man  that  merited  it ; 
nothing  in  the  nature  of  things  that  led  one 
step  towards  it  ;  nothing  in  the  circumstan- 
ces in  which  God  was  placed  tiiat  demand- 
ed it.  It  sprang,  in  all  its  amazing  glory, 
out  of  the  depths  of  the  divine  love,  start- 
ling the  universe  with  its  uidooked  for  and 
unparalleled  grace. 


And  how  did  he  who  was  destined  tc 
carry  this  scheme  into  effect,  execute  his 
strange  commission  ?  It  involved  on  his 
part  not  condescension  only,  not  danger 
merely,  but  degradation  and  suffering  such 
as  never  before  had  been  thought  of,  and  a 
death  so  beset  with  terrors,  that  the  guilti- 
est sinner  that  ever  died,  never  knew  their 
fearfulness.  Yet  look  into  the  records  of 
his  life.  We  see  there  no  backwardness 
to  enter  on  his  work,  no  timidity  or  shrink- 
ing in  carrying  it  on.  "  Lo,  I  come,"  he 
says,  "  to  do  thy  will,  O  God  ;"  and  then 
he  descends  from  the  realms  of  glory  to 
this  abode  of  vileness,  from  a  happy  heaven 
to  a  wretched  earth,  with  greater  readiness 
than  ever  monarch  stepped  up  to  his  throne. 
And  when  here,  he  utters  no  complaint,  he 
breathes  no  sigh  for  his  own  pure  and  glo- 
rious kingdom.  "  My  meat,"  he  says,  and 
says  it  in  a  sinner's  form  in  a  sinner's 
world,  "  my  refreshment  and  my  joy,  is  to 
do  the  will  of  him  that  sent  me,  and  to 
finish  his  work."  He  speaks  of  himself  as 
"  straitened  till  it  should  be  accomplished." 
And  when  the  hour  of  his  final  agony  ap- 
proached, O  what  a  triumph  of  constancy 
and  love  was  there  !  We  cannot  under- 
stand it.  We  see  enough  in  him  at  Geth- 
semane  to  discover  that  the  travail  of  his 
soul  could  have  exhausted  an  angel's 
strength  and  patience  ;  we  see  enough  of 
him  on  the  cross  to  assure  us  that  nothing 
could  overcome  his.  His  love  sustained 
him.  It  was  the  spring  of  all  his  labors 
and  all  his  sufferings.  These,  in  their  ex- 
tent and  importance,  go  far  beyond  our 
comprehension,  and  we  can  say  no  more 
of  the  feeling  that  prompted  them,  than  that 
it  is,  like  himself,  unfathomable  ;  as  much 
above  the  love  of  mortals,  as  the  highest 
heavens  are  above  the  earth. 

3.  We  may  make  yet  another  remark 
— the  cessation  of  this  plague  was  hroiight 
about  hy  means  that  seemed  altogether  inade- 
quate, that  appeared,  in  fact,  to  have  no  con- 
nection at  all  with  the  end  proposed. 

The  evil  to  be  stopped  was  a  pestilence,  a 
most  rapid  and  fatal  disease.  A  thoughtful 
bystander,  taking  into  his  consideration  all 
the  circumstances  of  the  case,  would  prob- 
ably have  said,  "  Human  means  of  aid  are 
all  hopeless  here.  This  is  evidently  an  in- 
ffictinn  from  heaven,  and  nothing  but  the 
power  of  hcavcm  can  remove  it.  All  that 
niiin  can  do  is  to  cry  hr  mercy."  In  this 
view  of  the  matter,  tlie  two  Jewish  rulers 


THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 


183 


appear  to  have  participated.  When  the 
Lord  tohl  them  of  the  coming  judirment, 
"  they  fell,"  we  are  told,  "  u|)on  their  fa- 
ces," their  frequent  attitude  of  supplication. 
But,  observe,  neither  their  humiliation,  nor 
the  fervor  of  their  prayers,  altered  the  di- 
vine purpose.  While  they  were  actually 
on  the  ground,  the  plague  began,  spreading 
around  them  terror  and  desolation.  And 
now  notice  their  conduct.  "  Take  a  cen- 
ser," says  Moses  to  Aaron,  "  and  put  fire 
therein  from  off  the  altar,"  the  altar  of 
burnt-offering,  thus  connecting  the  meas- 
ure about  to  be  adopted,  with  a  sacrifice, 
"  and  put  on  incense,  and  go  quickly  into 
the  congregation,  and  make  an  atonement 
for  them."  "  And  Aaron,"  we  read,  "  took 
as  j\Ioses  commanded,  and  ran  into  the 
midst  of  the  congregation,  and,  behold, 
the  plague  was  begun  among  the  people  ; 
and  he  put  on  incense  and  made  an  atone- 
ment." Now  it  is  natural  to  ask,  what  con- 
nection could  there  possibly  be  between  a 
raging  pestilence  and  this  burning  censer  ? 
How  could  the  one  be  affected  by  the 
other  ?  A  thoughtful  bystander  again 
might  have  deemed  Aaron,  as  he  ran  for- 
ward with  his  incense,  either  wofuUy  su- 
perstitious or  bereft  in  his  panic  of  his  rea- 
son. The  people  might  have  been  expect- 
ed to  deride  or  curse  him  for  this  mockery 
of  relief.  But  he  stood,  with  this  seemingly 
powerless  censer,  "  between  the  dead  and 
the  living,  and  the  plague  was  stayed." 
The  moment  he  reached  the  spot,  the  arm 
of  vengeance  was  arrested.  On  the  one 
side  of  him  was  a  spectacle  of  ghastly  hor- 
ror, none  of  the  people  remained  alive  ;  on 
the  other  side,  a  scene  of  deliverance,  and 
safety,  and  wonder,  and  praise.  And  all 
this  effected,  not  without  prayer,  but  yet 
not  by  prayer — in  this  strange  manner,  by 
perfume  sprinkled  on  fire  taken  from  an 
altar. 

Bring  this  matter  home  to  yourselves, 
brethren.  You  are  often  told  of  a  way  in 
which  your  sins  may  be  pardoned,  your 
sorrows  lightened,  and  your  souls  saved. 
You  know  well  what  this  way  is.  lie  who 
came  so  freely,  and  interposed  so  wonder- 
fully, between  us  and  death,  gave  his  own 
soul  an  offering  for  our  sin  :  lie  made  an 
atonement  for  it.  God  makes  known  to 
you  elsewhere  in  his  word,  what  this  his- 
tory fails  to  discover,  how  you  may  appro- 
priate to  yourselves  the  benefit  of  this  atone- 
ment.    He  tells  you  that  a  simple  faith  in 


his  testimony  concerning  this  Intercessor, 
will  save  your  souls  ;  that  a  simjjle  reli- 
ance on  the  efficacy  of  his  atoning  death, 
hope  what  you  will  from  it,  will  never  dis- 
appoint you  ;  that  you  may  have  "  redemp- 
tion," a  complete,  and  lasting,  and  glorious 
redemption,  "  through  his  blood,  even  the 
forgiveness  of  sins."  He  tells  you  too  that 
you  can  have  this  redemption  in  no  other 
way  ;  that  humiliation,  and  tears,  and 
prayers,  that  all  you  can  do,  or  suffer,  or  ex- 
perience, will  never  rescue  you ;  will  never, 
without  this  simple  faith  in  this  sacrifice,  at 
all  better  your  condition,  but  leave  you 
with  the  curse  of  a  merciful  God  on  you  in 
tliis  world,  and  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb  for 
your  inheritance  in  the  next. 

Now  some  of  you  are  staggered  at  this 
easy  method  of  salvation.  It  does  not 
commend  itself  to  your  judgments.  You 
try  in  vain  to  see  the  reasonableness  of  it. 
There  is  no  connection  in  it,  as  far  as  you 
can  discover,  between  the  cause  and  the 
effect.  Nay,  it  appears  to  you  perhaps  an 
absurdity  or  worse.  You  do  not  hesitate, 
therefore,  to  reject,  and,  it  may  be,  to  scorn 
it.  I  will  not  pause  to  ask  you  whether 
that  man  can  know  much  of  real  religion, 
who  despises  that  in  which  God  declares 
he  glories  ;  whether  he  can  be  in  the  way 
to  heaven,  prepared  and  meet  for  it,  who 
pours  contempt  on  a  scheme  of  mercy 
which  is  evidently  the  contemplation,  the 
praise,  the  exultation,  of  heaven.  I  would 
rather  say,  examine  the  history  of  these 
Jews.  Where  can  you  find  any  great  de- 
liverance vouchsafed  them,  any  one  signal 
mercy  given  them,  which  did  not  reach 
them  in  some  strange  manner,  which  was 
not  brought  about  by  means  that  you 
must  deem  utterly  inadequate,  which  did 
not  spring  out  of  a  source  whence  they 
could  previously  have  expected  no  deliver- 
ance or  mercy  whatsoever  ?  The  blow  of 
a  rod  first  divides  a  sea  for  their  deliver- 
ance, and  then  brings  water  for  them  from 
a  rock.  A  glance  at  an  image  of  brass 
heals  thousands  of  their  deadly  wounds. 
Their  food  for  forty  years  drops  from  the 
clouds.  All  is  opposed  to  our  ordinary  ob- 
servation and  experience  ;  all  is  what  you 
would  call  unaccountable.  And  yet  you  pro- 
fess  to  believe  the  Bible,  and  the  Bible  says, 
this  is  all  fact,  all  truth.  What  becomes 
then  of  your  objection  to  the  gospel  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  ?  I  mean,  to  that  view  of 
the  gospel,  which  ascribes  the  salvation  and 


184 


THE  RICH  MAN  AND  LAZARUS. 


blessedness  of  an  immortal  soul  entirely  to 
the  cross  !  to  faith  in  its  efficacy,  a  dis- 
covery of  its  glory,  and  an  experience  of 
its  power  ?  O  that  you  could  but  be  pre- 
vailed on  to  trust  God  !  to  trust  the  decla- 
rations of  his  faithful  word,  rather  than 
the  reasonings  of  your  own  benighted  and 
half-withered  minds!  O  that  you  were 
willing  to  allow  him  the  prerogative  which 
he  claims,  and  will  exercise,  and  will  vin- 
dicate too,  of  accomplishing  his  own  ends 
of  mercy  by  his  own  means,  covering  him- 
self with  glory  while  he  surrounds  you 
with  happiness  ! 

Ere  long,  brethren,  there  will  be  but  one 
opinion  amongst  us  on  this  point.  Yet  a 
little  while  and  a  scene  will  be  unfolded, 
which  no  unbelief  can  withstand  or  reason- 
ing gainsay.  Amidst  a  convulsed  universe, 
we  shall  see  him  who  once  hung  on  a  cross 
at  Jerusalem,  and  now  offers  us  the  free  and 
glorious  salvation  he  purchased  there,  not 
indeed  occupying  a  station  between  the  dead 
and  the  living,  for  we  shall  all  live  then  as 
we  have  never  lived  yet ;  he  will  stand  be- 
tween the  two  great  divisions  of  the  human 
race,  the  blessed  and  the  accursed,  the  lost 
and  the  saved.  On  one  side  of  him  will  be 
joy  such  as  neither  earth  nor  heaven  has 
ever  yet  witnessed  ;  on  the  other,  a  spec- 
tacle that  will  make  the  destruction  of  Da- 
than  and  Abiram  appear  a  trifle ;  the  fire 
that  consumed  Korah,  scarcely  worthy  re- 
membrance ;  the  plague  that  swept  away 
the  thousands  of  Israel,  a  thing  of  naught. 
Where  shall  we  stand  in  that  day  ?  On 
which  side  of  the  great  High  Priest  of  the 
heavens  shall  we  be  left,  when  the  earth  is 
no  more  ? 


SERMON    XXXIV. 

THE  RICH  MAN   AND  LAZARUS. 
St.  Liiku  xvi.  22. 

It  came  to  pans  that  the  hrrrnar  died,  and  was 
carried  by  the  angels  into  Abraham'' s  bosom ; 
the  rich  man  also  died. 

TiiESH  words  bring  bff^iro  us  a  very 
solemn  portion  of  scripture; — a  parable 
only,  it  is  true,  a  mere  picture  ;  but  then  it 
is  a  picture  drawn  by  one  who  had  lately 
come  from  the  eternity  it  unfolds,  and  in- 
tended by  him  to  shadow  fortii   realities  in 


that  eternity,  and  those  very  realities  among 
which  you,  and  I,  and  every  child  of  man, 
must  soon  be  mixed.  May  God  grant  that 
the  recollection  of  this  fact  may  make  us 
serious  while  we  are  examining  it !  May 
it  cause  us  to  feel,  for  one  short  hour  at 
least,  like  dying  men  ! 

We  cannot  notice  every  part  of  the  para- 
ble. Its  general  tendency  will  be  evident, 
if  we  confine  ourselves  to  this  simple  view 
of  it; — first,  the  resemblance  between  the 
two  persons  who  are  the  subjects  of  it, 
and,  secondly,  the  difference  between  them, 
viewed  in  connection  with  the  grounds  of 
this  difTerence. 

1.  1.  The  parable  speaks  of  a  rich  man 
and  a  poor  man ;  and  the  resevibJance  be- 
tween them  may  be  traced,  first,  in  the 
morialily  of  their  lodies.  They  were  both 
men,  sinful  men,  and  consequently  dying 
men.  No  sooner  is  it  said  that  "  the  beg- 
gar died,"  than  it  is  added,  "  the  rich  ma^ 
also  died." 

And  thus  must  end  the  history  of  us  all. 
Whether  we  are  poor  or  rich,  in  sickness 
or  in  health,  in  trouble  or  in  joy,  this  will 
soon  be  said  concerning  each  of  us,  this 
will  be  the  finishing,  the  winding  up,  of 
our  earthly  history,  "  Ashes  to  ashes,  dust 
to  dust."  One  of  us  may  die  here  and 
another  there  ;  one  at  this  age  and  another 
at  that ;  "  one  in  his  full  strength,  being 
wholly  at  ease  and  quiet,  another  in  the 
bitterness  of  his  soul,  never  eating  with 
pleasure;"  but  we  shall  "all  lie  down 
alike  in  the  dust,  and  the  worms  shall 
cover  us." 

2.  These  men  resembled  each  other  also 
in  ihe  immortaliiy  of  their  souls.  They  both 
went  into  eternity  when  they  died,  and  into 
eternity  we  are  all  hastening.  The  soul 
of  the  poorest  amongst  us  is  as  immortal 
as  the  soul  of  the  richest.  It  is  of  precisely 
the  same  value  in  the  estimation  of  God, 
and  the  heir  of  the  same  boundless  exist- 
ence. 

It  is  hard  to  believe  this.  Show  me  a 
being  enriched  with  intellect  and  refined 
by  cultivation  ;  let  me  see  him  capable  of 
measuring  the  stars,  or  laying  open  the 
secrei.-^  of  nature,  or  delighting  his  fellow- 
men  by  the  creations  of  his  fancj^,  or  mov- 
ing and  swaying  them  by  the  force  of  his 
reasoning — I  can  easily  believe  such  a 
mind  destined  to  live  forever.  Or  again, 
let  \nr  think  of  the  cross,  and  behold  a  fel- 
low.sinner,  however  low  in  understanding 


THE  RICH  MAN  AND  LAZARUS. 


185 


or  mean  in  station,  cleaving  to  that  cross; 
let  mo  refjard  him  as  set  apart  by  tlie  ever- 
lasting Jcliovah  for  his  own,  bouglit  witli 
the  price  of  Christ's  precious  blood,  and 
made  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  let 
him  appear  elevated  above  the  world  in 
spirit  and  conduct,  and  though  treading  the 
earth,  walking  with  a  high  and  holy  God, 
and  holding  communion  with  heaven — I 
can  believe,  without  an  effort,  that  there 
dwells  within  that  man  a  spirit  born  for 
eternity.  But  whatever  my  feelings  may 
say,  the  veriest  trifler  on  the  face  of  the 
globe  is  as  immortal  as  he  ;  the  idolater 
will  live  as  long,  and  so  will  the  most  sor- 
did lover  of  the  dust  within  these  walls.  As 
for  intellect  or  science,  it  will  not  add  a 
span  to  our  duration.  The  man  whom  we 
may  think  scarcely  possessed  of  a  human 
soul,  who  is  treated  as  a  brute  beast,  and 
degraded  by  the  treatment  he  receives  al- 
most to  a  mental  level  with  the  brute  beast, 
the  most  abject  African  that  groans  unpitied 
in  western  bondage,  has  a  soul  as  immor- 
tal as  a  Newton,  or  a  Milton,  or  a  Locke  ; 
he  will  live  as  long  as  a  David  or  a  Paul. 
We  may  elevate  or  degrade  our  spirits, 
raise  them  through  grace  to  Jehovah's  im- 
age and  Jehovah's  happiness,  or  sink  them 
down  to  the  pollution  and  wretchedness  of 
hell ;  but  their  duration  is  fixed  :  not  a 
moment,  not  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  can 
we  add  to  it  ;  we  cannot  take  away  from 
it  one  atom  of  existence. 

And  observe  too,  that  this  eternity  whither 
we  are  all  going,  is  no  far  distant  world 
which  the  disembodied  soul  will  be  ages  or 
years  in  reaching.  It  is  a  world  so  near 
us,  that  the  moment  death  separates  the 
soul  from  the  body,  we  shall  be  there  in- 
habitants of  that  world,  entering  into  its 
pursuits  and  sharing  its  joys  or  pains.  This 
fact  is  plainly  intimated  in  the  parable. 
Lazarus  dies,  and  is  carried  at  once  "  into 
Abraham's  bosom."  The  rich  man  also 
dies.  He  is  represented  as  closing  his  eyes 
one  moment  on  earth,  and  then  opening 
them  the  next  in  another  world. 

3.  To  these  two  points  of  resemblance 
between  these  men,  we  may  add  a  third, 
not  indeed  absolutely  expressed  here,  but, 
like  the  fact  we  have  just  alluded  to,  evi- 
dently to  be  inferred — accovvtahJrncss  to 
God.  Though  nothing  is  said  of  any  trial 
or  account  which  they  underwent,  the  dif- 
ferent situations  in  which  we  find  them  in 
eternity,  implies  one.  It  was  not  chance 
24 


which  placed  them  where  they  are.  They 
went  thither  from  a  bar  of  judgment. 

And  judgment,  brethren,  is  just  as  cer- 
tain  to  you  and  me,  as  death  or  eternity  ; 
it  is  as  determinately  and  inevitably  ap- 
pointed. As  surely  as  these  frames  of 
ours  will  one  day  lie  cold  in  death,  so 
surely  shall  we  "stand  at  the  judgment- 
seat  of  Christ,"  so  certainly  must  '-every 
one  of  us  give  account  of  himself  to  God." 

It  follows  then,  not  only  that  we  shall 
live  forever  in  a  world  to  come,  but  that 
our  condition  in  it  will  depend  on  what  has 
passed  in  the  few  fleeting  years  of  our  mor- 
tal life.  This  life  is  but  a  span  long,  a 
mere  pittance  of  existence  ;  short  as  it  is, 
we  trifle  with  it,  and  throw  away  many  of 
its  hours  as  though  those  hours  were  worth- 
less ;  but  what  is  this  short  life  ;  this 
troubled,  feverish  dream,  so  trifling  while 
it  lasts,  and  so  quickly  ended  ?  It  is  the 
beginning  of  an  existence  that  will  never 
end.  And  not  only  this,  every  inoment  in 
that  existence  will  be  affected  by  what  has 
passed  in  this  beginning  of  it.  The  conse- 
quences of  our  words  and  actions  are  not 
terminated  at  the  grave  ;  they  do  not  affect 
the  threescore  years  and  ten  of  life  only; 
they  are  connected  with  scenes  which  will 
take  place  millions  of  years  to  come  ;  we 
shall  be  reaping  their  fruits  ages  and  ages 
after  the  mountains  are  removed  and  the 
earth  consumed.  The  sun  will  cease  to 
rise  and  the  stars  to  shine,  but  never,  while 
eternity  lasts,  will  the  things  we  have 
thought  and  done  to-day,  and  yesterday, 
and  the  days  that  were  before  them,  become 
unimportant.  Trifles  we  may  deem  tliem 
all  on  this  side  the  grave,  but  no  sooner 
does  our  foot  tread  on  the  other  side,  than 
their  real  character  will  come  out ;  we 
shall  see  them  as  they  are,  the  seeds  of 
everlasting  anguish,  or  the  forerunners  of 
everlasting  glory. 

The  rich  man  then  resembled  Lazarus 
in  the  mortality  of  his  body,  the  immortality 
of  his  soul,  and  his  accountaI>leness  to  God. 

II.  Let  us  proceed  to  notice,  secondly, 
the  difference  iehceen  these  two  nieyi,  with 
the  grounds  or  reasons  of  it.  They  differed 
in  two  points. 

1.  In  their  earthly  portion.  The  differ- 
ence between  them  in  this  respect  was  in- 
deed so  great,  that  they  hardly  seemed  to 
belong  to  the  same  order  of  beings.  One 
was  at  the  very  height  of  worldly  pros- 
perity, enjoying,  or  at  least  possessing,  all 


186 


THE  RICH  MAN  AND  LAZARUS. 


that  could  minister  to  an  earthly  body  or 
gratify  an  earthly,  sensual  mind.  He  "was 
clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  fared 
sumptuously  every  day."  But  look  at  his 
palace  gate.  There  lies  forsaken  and  de- 
spised "  a  certain  beggar  named  Lazarus, 
full  of  sores,  and  desiring  to  be  fed  with 
tlie  crumbs  which  fall  from  the  rich  man's 
table  ;"  so  poor,  that  he  wants  the  necessa- 
ries of  life  ;  so  starving,  that  he  lies  beg- 
ging for  the  refuse  of  his  neighbor's  table  ; 
so  well-nigh  naked,  that  he  cannot  cover 
the  wounds  which  disfigure  his  famished 
body ;  so  friendless,  that  when  he  is  cast 
at  the  rich  man's  gate,  he  has  none  to  re- 
lieve or  help  him  ;  dogs  his  companions, 
and  the  food  of  dogs,  not  the  food  he  pos- 
sesses, but  the  food  he  craves.  How  great 
a  contrast !  Where  shall  we  find  its  ori- 
gin ? 

We  know,  brethren,  where  our  earthly 
minds  would  prompt  us  to  look  for  it.  We 
are  ready  to  say,  "It  must  lie  in  the  cliar- 
acter  or  conduct  of  these  men.  That  rich 
man  has  faithfully  served  his  God,  and  is 
rewarded  of  him  ;  that  poor  man  has  sinned 
grievously  against  him,  and  therefore 
groans  and  suffers."  But  one  main  de- 
sign of  this  parable  is  to  condemn  such 
reasoning  as  this.  It  warns  us  against 
judging  of  men's  characters  by  men's  con- 
dition. It  tells  us  tliat  ease  and  riches  are 
no  certain  marks  of  God's  favor,  and  pov- 
erty and  suffering  no  sure  sign  of  his  dis- 
pleasure. It  tells  you  who  are  rich,  that 
your  prosperity  in  your  ways  is  perfectly 
consistent  with  God's  hatred  of  those  ways  ; 
and  it  tells  you  who  are  poor,  and  troubled, 
and  perplexed,  that  notwithstanding  all 
that  is  grieving  you  and  bearing  you  down, 
you  may  be  as  dear  to  God  as  the  throne 
he  sits  on.  That  diversity  of  condition, 
which  we  may  wonder  at  but  cannot  alter, 
which  has  prevailed  more  or  less  in  every 
age  and  nation  notwithstanding  every  at- 
tempt to  put  an  end  to  it,  that  diversity 
must  be  traced  to  the  sovereign  will  of 
God.  And  he  suffers,  or  ratlier  he  estab- 
lishes it,  because  it  is  conducive  to  our 
welfare  and  his  own  glory. 

It  serves  to  show  us,  among  other  things, 
the  poverty  of  the  world  and  the  all-svfficiency 
of  God.  One  man,  with  all  the  earth  can 
give  at  his  con)mand,  pampered,  and  bowed 
down  to,  and  half  worsiiippcd  ;  and  yet,  in 
the  midst  of  all  this,  dissatisfied,  restless, 
.  and   acliing  : — how  does  he  make  us  feel 


the  poverty,  the  nothingness,  of  all  create»jt 
good  !  While  another  man,  destitute  of 
every  thing  the  world  deems  good,  and  yet 
peaceful  in  his  destitution,  thankful,  and 
almost  happy,  blessing  the  Lord  that  afllicts, 
and  kissing  the  hand  that  scourges  him  ; — 
what  does  he  show  us  ?  He  shows  us  this, 
that  if  we  have  the  grace  of  Christ  in  our 
hearts,  we  need  covet  nothing  more  ;  we 
have  enough  ;  we  have  found  that  out  of 
created  things,  which  no  created  things 
could  supply.  He  shows  us  this,  that  an 
infinite  God  is  a  better  portion  than  ten 
thousand  worlds. 

Besides,  this  diversity  of  condition,  this 
mixture  of  poverty  and  riches  on  the  earth, 
answers  a  further  end  ; — it  proclaims  to 
thovghtless  man  another  icorld. 

Look  at  that  daring  contemner  of  the 
Lord  Jehovah.  He  tramples  on  his  laws, 
he  despises  his  gospel ;  and  yet  he  pros- 
pers. Affluence  and  ease  are  his  com- 
panions all  his  days,  and  when  he  dies,  he 
dies  before  any  visible  token  of  the  divine 
indignation  has  touched  him.  But  look  al 
that  faithful  servant  of  God.  Not  a  yeai 
of  his  existence  passes  without  some  strug- 
gle. The  whole  of  it  is  one  continued 
effort  to  bear  up  under  the  pressure  of  diffi- 
culty  and  suflering.  He  carries  about 
with  him,  while  lie  lives,  the  visible  traces 
of  a  man  of  sorrows  ;  and  when  he  dies,  he 
takes  down  to  the  grave  a  patient,  but  a 
half-broken,  worn  out  heart.  "  And  where 
all  this  time  is  a  righteous  God  ?"  asks  the 
soul.  "Where  his  promised  care  of  his 
own,  and  where  his  oft  threatened  ven- 
geance against  transgressors  ?"  "  They 
lie,"  says  the  soul  again,  "  in  another 
world.  There  is  a  future  state  of  retribu- 
tion. There  must  be  a  world  in  which  the 
just  Governor  of  the  universe  will  assert 
his  justice,  will  vindicate  his  character,  and 
render  to  the  sons  of  men  according  to 
their  works."  And  this  is  another  truth 
enforced  in  this  parable. 

2.  The  two  men  it  speaks  of  differed  in 
their  eternal  condilion. 

Look  at  the  state  of  Lazarus  in  the  invisi- 
ble world.  Tiiis  is  very  briefiy  described. 
"  It  came  to  pass  that  the  beggar  died,  and 
was  carried  by  the  angels  into  Abraham's 
bosom."  What  a  transition  !  from  the  cold 
ground  to  the  arms  of  angels  !  from  the 
rich  man's  gate  to  tlie  gate  of  heaven  !  now 
scarcely  able  to  walk  a  miserable  earth, 
and  now  riding  on  the  wings  of  cherubimj 


THE  RICH  MAN  AND  LAZARUS. 


187 


and  soaring  upward  to  the  regions  of  light 
and  liappiness  ! 

And  wliat  place  is  the  man  holding  in 
these  glorious  regions  ?  Is  he  laid  down  at 
the  entrance  of  heaven,  allowed  to  occupy 
the  same  j)Ost  at  the  door  of  God's  house, 
tliat  he  occupied  before  at  the  rich  man's 
gate  ?  Had  this  been  all,  his  latter  end 
would  have  been  blessed.  But  he  is  ad- 
mitted, not  to  the  gate  only,  but  into  the 
palace  of  heaven  ;  he  sits  down  a  welcome 
an<]  honored  guest  at  the  table  of  his  Lord. 

Heaven  is  often  spoken  of  in  the  scrip- 
tures as  a  sumptuous  banquet.  It  is  called 
"a  feast,"  "a  great  feast,"  "the  marriage 
supper  of  the  Lamb."  Now  among  the 
eastern  nations,  it  was  usual  to  recline  on 
couches  during  their  meals ;  and  these 
were  so  situated,  that  each  person  appeared 
to  be  leaning  on  the  bosom  or  shoulder  of 
the  person  next  to  him  ;  indeed,  at  a  crowd- 
ed table,  he  must  actually  have  loaned  on 
it.  Thus  at  the  last  meal  our  Lord  took 
with  his  disciples,  John  is  spoken  of  as 
"  lying  on  his  bosom ;"  that  is,  he  was  sit- 
ting next  to  him.  When  therefore  it  is 
said  that  Lazarus  was  carried  into  Abra- 
ham's bosom,  we  are  perhaps  to  understand 
that  he  was  placed,  as  a  mark  of  honor, 
next  to  Abraham  himself;  that  he  was  not 
only  received  into  glory,  but  into  the  very 
highest  degree  of  glory ;  removed  to  the 
greatest  possible  distance  from  all  his  for- 
mer miseries,  and  lifted  to  a  height  of  bless- 
edness which  more  than  compensated  all 
his  woes  ;  enjoying  in  the  very  sight  of 
God,  at  his  own  right  hand,  that  "  fulness 
of  joy"  which  has  satisfied  God  himself 
through  all  generations. 

But  now  turn  to  another  scene.  "The 
rich  man  also  dies  ;"  and  what  follows? 
He  is  '•  buried,"  so  buried  as  to  render  his 
funeral  worthy  of  record.  Pomp  attends 
him  to  his  grave,  and  even  there  perhaps 
does  not  f  >rsake  him  ;  some  stately  mon- 
ument speaks  his  praises.  But  while  this 
is  going  on,  while  the  solemn  pageant  is 
darkening  the  streets,  and  the  flattering  in- 
scription is  chiselling  on  the  tomb,  where  is 
the  man  himself?  Where  is  that  part  of 
him,  which  is  still  alive  to  consciousness 
and  thought  ?  In  a  world  of  misery.  "  In 
hell  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  being  in  tor- 
ments." And  then  the  parable  goes  on ; 
"  He  seeth  Abraham  afar  off  and  Lazarus 
in  his  bosom.  And  he  cried  and  said,  Fa- 
ther Abraham,  have  mercy  on  me,  and  send 


Lazarus  that  he  may  dip  the  tip  of  his  fin- 
ger in  water  and  cool  my  tongue,  for  I  am 
tormented  in  this  flame." 

This  representation  is  very  simple,  but 
its  simplicity  serves  to  render  it  the  more 
appalling.  It  proves  that  the  state  of  this 
lost  sinner  was  familiar  to  our  Lord's  con- 
templation, and  consequently  that  it  was 
not  a  .state  of  wretchedness  peculiar  to  this 
one  man,  but  the  condition  of  all  the  lost. 

The  first  circumstance  that  arrests  us  in 
it,  is  the  acuteness,  the  extremity,  of  his  suf- 
fering. It  is  "  torment,"  and  torment  in 
the  midst  of  devouring  "  flames;"  anguish 
of  tlie  most  excruciating  and  terrific  kind, 
and  also  in  the  most  terrific  place  ;  for  it  is 
torment  in  "hell,"  in  a  world  Created  to 
strike  terror  in  all  other  worlds  ;  to  glorify 
the  justice  of  God  by  its  miseries,  as  hea- 
ven glorifies  his  goodness  by  its  joys.  The 
earth,  in  comparison  with  it,  is  a  world  of 
blessedness.  The  bitterest  woes  of  earth 
would  be  welcomed  in  it  as  a  relief  and 
suspension  of  misery.  They  give  us  no 
idea  of  its  horrors.  Were  we  at  this  mo- 
ment enduring  them  all,  we  should  have 
no  more  conception  of  the  wretchedness  of 
Iiell,  than  the  man  who  has  looked  only  at 
the  turbulence  of  a  swollen  rivulet,  has  of 
the  ocean's  fury.  It  is  as  unearthly,  as 
incomprehensible,  in  its  misery,  as  heaven 
is  inconceivable  in  its  bliss. 

And  its  sutforing  is  without  alleviation. 
It  is  pure,  unmixed  suffering.  In  this  re- 
spect also  it  surpasses  all  worldly  misery. 
Here  the  most  wretched  have  some  inter- 
vals of  repose,  and  the  most  afllicted  some 
alleviations  of  their  sorrow ;  but  in  the 
eternal  world,  this  mixture  comes  to  an 
everlasting  end.  The  happy  are  com- 
pletely happy,  the  wretched  completely 
wretched.  This  man  is  not  only  in  a  .state 
of  torment,  he  has  nothing  to  mitigate  his 
torment.  A  few  days  before  he  might  have 
ol)tained  heaven  by  one  real  prayer  for 
heaven  ;  he  asks  now  for  a  drop  of  water, 
he  cries  and  cries  aloud  {ov  a  shadow  of 
comfi:)rt,  a  momentary  mitigation  of  his  pain, 
and  he  supplicates  this  for  mercy's  sake, 
but  it  is  denied  him  ;  no  mercy  comes.  O 
what  must  be  the  mi.sery  of  that  condition, 
in  which  so  light  a  mercy  should  be  the 
object  of  such  fervent  prayer  !  and  what 
its  awfulness,  that  in  the  universe  of  a  God 
of  love,  such  a  prayer  should  be  heard  and 
yet  not  granted  ! 

Observe  also  that  the  state  of  this  suf- 


188 


THE  RICH  MAN  AND  LAZARUS. 


ferer  is  rnpresented  to  be  as  hopeless  as  it  is 
wretched.  His  misery  is  eternal  misery, 
and  he  is  forced  to  receive  into  his  soul  a 
consciousness  of  its  eternity.  "  Between 
us  and  you,"  says  Abraham,  "  there  is  a 
great  gulf  fixed,  so  that  they  which  would 
pass  from  hence  to  you  cannot,  neither  can 
they  pass  to  us,  that  would  come  from 
thence."  How  fearful  the  strength  of  this 
language!  There  is  "a  gulf"  between 
Ijeaven  and  hell  ;  and  this  gulf  is  "a  great 
gulf;"  and  this  great  gulf  is  not  an  acci- 
dental, temporary  separation,  it  is  "a  great 
gulf  fixed,"  an  immoveable,  an  eternal, 
as  well  as  impassable  barrier  between  mis- 
ery and  joy.  On  earth  we  have  nothing 
like  this.  There  is  indeed  a  great  distance 
between  the  enemies  and  the  fi'iends  of  God, 
but  no  gulf,  no  barrier.  You  who  are 
"  afar  off,  may  be  brought  nigh  ;"  you  may 
come,  and  come  when  you  will,  from  the 
kingdom  of  Satan  into  the  kingdom  of 
Christ ;  you  may  pass  this  very  hour  from 
death  unto  life :  but  when  once  eternity  is 
entered  on,  your  state  is  fixed.  No  effort, 
no  time,  can  change  it.  A  wretched  spirit 
can  never  become  a  happy  spirit ;  no,  nor 
ever  be  reconciled  to  its  misery,  or  be  worn 
out  by  it,  or  feel  it  less.  Here  the  capa- 
bility of  the  soul  to  bear  anguish  sometimes 
amazes  us  ;  we  marvel  that  nature  does 
not  fail  underneath  its  burden ;  but  our 
present  strength  is  no  more  to  be  compared 
with  our  future  powers  of  endurance,  than 
the  miseries  of  time  with  the  woes  of  eter- 
nity. We  know  what  follows.  We  some- 
times say,  there  is  no  hope  in  heaven,  but 
we  may  say  with  much  greater  truth,  there 
is  no  hope  in  hell.  Hope  has  never  yet 
entered  that  dreary  world,  never  thrown  a 
single  ray  of  light  into  its  darkness,  never 
even  risen  for  one  moment  in  any  one  heart. 
It  is  a  kingdom  of  pure,  unmingled  despair. 

It  is  obvious  that  two  states  so  widely 
different  as  those  we  have  thus  examined, 
must  be  traced  to  some  great  and  essential 
difference  in  the  persons  who  are  found  in 
them.  Tliey  are  still  in  the  dominions  of 
a  God  of  justice,  and  no  slight  dissimilarity 
of  character  would  lead  him  to  assign  to 
them  such  opposite  portions.  And  yet,  on 
the  first  view,  the  grounds  of  this  diversity 
in  their  condition  are  not  apparent. 

We  must  not  ascribe  it  to  the  difference 
that  existed  in  their  former  condition  on 
earth,  to  the  riches  of  the  one  or  the  pov- 
erty of  the  other.     It  is  true,  as  a  part  of 


this  parable  intimates,  that  wealth  in  con. 
sequence  of  our  abuse  of  it,  may  aggravate 
our  wretchedness  in  a  future  world,  and 
that  a  poor  man,  if  a  man  of  God,  may  reap 
in  eternity  the  blessed  fruits  of  his  suffer- 
ings in  time  ;  but  as  for  want  or  misery 
saving  the  soul,  as  for  pain  or  disease  open- 
ing heaven,  or  widening  the  path  to  it,  or 
even  cleansing  us  from  one  of  the  trans- 
gressions which  keep  us  out  of  it,  it  is  the 
strangest  mistake,  the  wildest  delusion,  that 
ever  misled  a  sinner's  mind.  If  any  of  you 
are  making  such  a  use  of  this  scripture  ; 
drawing  this  conclusion  from  it,  that  you 
will  be  happy  hereafter  because  you  are 
wretched  now  ;  I  may  tell  you,  brethren, 
without  any  risk  of  saying  more  than  the 
truth,  that  you  might  as  well  expect  your 
tears  to  keep  death  away  from  you,  or  your 
winding-sheet  to  restore  you  to  life  when 
dead,  or  your  coffin  to  become  a  chariot  to 
carry  you  to  heaven.  Lazarus  was  not 
saved  because  he  was  poor,  and  half  fam- 
ished, and  sick.  At  the  gate  of  the  mansion, 
he  needed  the  blood  of  Christ  to  redeem 
him,  as  much  as  the  rich  man  needed  it  in 
its  stateliest  hall ;  and  there  is  not  a  beg- 
gar on  the  earth  who  does  not  need  it,  and 
need  it  as  urgently  and  greatly  in  his  hut, 
as  any  king  on  his  throne.  If  you  are  poor, 
and  know  nothing  in  your  poverty  of  the 
"  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ ;"  if  your 
want,  instead  of  leading  you  to  God,  serves 
only  to  make  you  murmur  against  him  ;  if 
you  are  poor  and  prayerless,  poor  and  even 
thoughtless ;  wretched  as  you  may  now 
deem  yourselves,  your  present  days  are 
your  best ;  your  present  lot,  with  all  its 
miseries  and  hardships,  is  the  happiest  you 
will  ever  know.  Death  will  be  to  you  no 
happy  release.  It  will  be  a  passing  out  of 
the  bearable  sufferings  of  time  into  the  un- 
bearable woes  of  eternity.  Not  one  word 
of  comfort  does  this  scripture  speak  to 
such  as  you.  It  says  to  you  as  well  as  to 
the  richest  of  your  neighbors,  "Repent." 
"Flee  from  the  wrath  to  come."  "Pre- 
pare to  meet  your  God." 

Nor  must  we  trace  tlic  difference  in  eter- 
nity between  these  two  men  to  any  flagrant 
crimes  or  peculiar  wickedness  in  the  rich 
man's  conduct.  There  is  not  a  word  in 
the  history  to  sanction  such  a  notion.  Not 
a  single  sin  is  laid  to  his  charge.  True,  he 
was  rich  ;  and  so  were  Abraham,  and  Solo- 
mon, and  David,  and  a  thousand  more,  who 
are  now  in  heaven.     True  also,  he  was 


THE  RICH  MAN  AND  LAZARUS. 


189 


well  clotherl ;  so  are  the  lilies  of  the  field, 
which  are  clothed  by  God  liimself.  True 
again,  '•  he  fared  sumptuously,"  but  there 
is  nothing  wrong  in  taking  the  gifts  of  pro- 
vidence and  enjoying  them  also,  so  that  we 
take  them  with  moderation  and  enjoy  them 
with  thankfulness;  and  we  read  here  of 
no  abuse  or  excess. 

We  are  very  prone,  brethren,  to  ascribe 
great  sins  to  the  persons  whom  our  Lord 
condemns  in  his  parables,  and  by  this  means 
we  turn  away  their  force  from  ourselves, 
and  lose  much  of  the  meaning  and  instruc- 
tion they  were  intended  to  convey.  He 
seldom  speaks  of  such  characters.  He 
generally  describes  what  we  should  call 
blameless,  almost  virtuous  men  ;  and  then 
endeavors  to  strike  an  alarm  in  our  minds, 
by  showing  us  these  men  rejected  by  him 
and  condemned.     He  has  done  so  here. 

The  true  cause  to  which  the  eternal 
misery  of  this  rich  man  must  be  traced, 
undoubtedly  lies  in  tliis  one  thing — forget- 
fulness  of  God.  We  gather  this  from  the 
general  tenor  of  the  parable,  the  occasion 
on  which  it  was  spoken,  and  the  light 
thrown  on  it  by  comparing  it  with  another 
parable  of  a  similar  tendency,  the  parable 
of  the  worldly-minded  possessor  of  lands 
and  corn,  in  the  twelfth  chapter  of  this 
gospel.  Lazarus,  in  his  poverty,  felt  his 
need  of  God,  implored  his  aid,  and  centred 
all  his  happiness  in  him.  His  wealthy 
brother  seldom  or  never  thought  of  God. 
He  sought  his  rest  and  happiness  at  a  dis- 
tance from  him.  He  made  the  world,  his 
stately  mansion,  his  gorgeous  apparel,  his 
sumptuous  fare,  his  all.  There  lay  the 
ruinous  evil,  not  in  his  good  things  them- 
selves, but  in  the  hold  which  he  suffered 
them  to  take  of  his  thoughts  and  heart. 
And  beware,  brethren,  lest  your  good  things 
first  engross  and  then  ruin  you.  They 
will  assuredly  perish,  but  before  they  do 
so,  they  may  cause  you  to  perish.  Inno- 
cent, harmless,  lawful,  in  themselves,  only 
seek  your  main  happiness  in  them,  and 
there  needs  no  angel  or  spirit  to  tell  us 
what  will  become  of  you  in  an  eternal 
world.  This  scripture  says  as  plainly  as 
though  one  rose  from  the  dead  to  declare 
it  in  your  ears,  you  are  in  the  broad  way 
to  destruction ;  and  unless  you  see  your 
danger  and  flee  to  the  cross  for  deliverance, 
this  rich  man's  acute,  unmixed,  endless  mis- 
ery will  eventually  be  your  own.  Talk 
not  of  your  harmlessness.     Ask  not  what 


crimes  you  have  committed  or  what  ven- 
geance you  have  deserved.  Rivet  vour 
thoughts  for  this  ilay  to  this  scripture. 
Discover,  if  you  can,  this  wretched  world- 
ling's crimes.  The  same  God  that  judged 
him,  will  judge  you,  judge  you  by  the  same 
law,  measure  you  by  the  same  standard  ; 
make  no  more  allowance  for  your  situation 
and  circumstances,  than  he  made  for  his ; 
assign  you,  if  j'^ou  die  as  you  have  lived,  to 
the  same  torment  and  despair. 

We  have  now  gone  through  the  parable 
as  far  as  we  proposed.  You  must  have 
felt  all  along,  that  the  eternal  realities  it  has 
brought  before  you,  are  of  the  very  utmost 
moment.  You  must  have  felt  too  that,  in 
comparison  with  these,  all  other  things  are 
of  no  moment  whatsoever.  Indeed,  who  is 
not  ready  to  say  at  the  close  of  this  subject, 
Hoiv  poor,  hoiv  utterly  insignificant  in  value, 
are  those  things  which  man's  foolish  heart 
often  prizes  the  most  ! 

We  know  but  too  well  what  these  are. 
They  are  the  things  which  this  rich  man 
possessed ;  the  things  which  constitute  the 
pride,  if  not  the  happiness,  of  many  of  our- 
selves,  and  are  the  desire  and  admiration, 
perhaps  the  envy  of  many  more.  But  what 
can  they  do  for  us  ?  They  may  supply  a 
few  of  our  wants,  and  gratify  many  of  our 
wishes ;  but  look  at  our  situation  and  pros- 
pects. We  have  a  mortal  body,  an  immor- 
tal, never  dying  soul ;  we  are  every  one 
of  us  going  to  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ. 
Can  these  things  save  us  from  the  grave  ? 
Can  they  blot  out  the  sins  of  a  life  of  folly? 
Can  they  go  with  us  into  eternity,  and  avert 
the  wrath  of  a  forgotten  God  ?  No  ;  they 
can  do  no  more  than  amuse  and  degrade 
tlie  soul  for  a  few  fleeting  years,  and  then 
leave  it  to  perish.  What  then  is  the  real 
value  of  this  wealth,  this  splendor,  this 
rank,  in  the  pursuit  of  which  the  whole 
world  is  toiling,  in  the  possession  of  which 
some  of  you  are  glorying  ?  Ask  the  dying 
man  for  an  answer;  or  rather  ask  him  who 
stands  by  the  bed  of  the  dying,  or  the  cold 
frame  of  the  lifeless.  He  can  scarcely 
find  words  to  meet  your  question.  He 
cannot  tell  you  how  unsubstantial,  how 
trifling,  how  completely  unworthy  of  his 
aflections,  all  these  objects  of  earthly  de- 
sire appear  to  him.  A  shadow  could 
hardly  seem  to  him  less  real.  And  he  is 
the  man  who  sees  these  things  as  they  are. 
The  view  he  takes  of  them  in  these  mo- 
ments of  soberness,  is  the  correct  view  ;  it 


190 


THE  PRAYER  OF  CHRIST  FOR  HIS  CHURCH. 


is  that  which,  either  in  this  world  or  another, 
will  ultimately  be  your  own.  They  may 
have  for  a  season  their  use  and  worth,  but 
they  are  no  more  to  be  compared  with  the 
riches  of  heavenly  grace,  than  the  lightest 
chaff  with  the  wheat,  than  the  body  with 
the  soul,  than  time  with  eternity. 

And  who  has  not  been  reminded  to-day 
of  another  obvious  and  affecting,  but  oft 
forgotten  truth  ?  Hojv  different  are  the 
consequences  of  death  to  different  men  ! 

We  are  no\v  seated  within  the  same 
walls,  all  wearing  the  same  form,  sharing 
for  the  greater  part  in  the  same  joys  and 
sorrows,  burdened  with  the  same  cares, 
and  polluted  with  the  same  sins  ;  but  look 
forward  a  few  years,  and  how  amazing 
the  difference  that  has  taken  place  between 
man  and  man  !  Some  of  us  are  in  a  world 
of  peace,  with  every  sorrow  gone,  every 
fear  at  rest,  every  hope  realized  ;  so  pure, 
that  a  holy  God  looks  on  us  "  with  ex- 
ceeding joy  ;"  so  unutterably  happy,  that 
even  in  heaven  we  wonder  at  our  happi- 
ness. But  where  are  others  of  us?  In  a 
land  where  we  shall  see  them  no  more  ; 
as  wretched  as  we  are  happy  ;  completely 
and  forever  lost.  And  is  a  dissimilarity 
like  this,  so  great,  so  lasting,  and  yet  so 
near,  a  matter  of  indifference  to  us  ?  In- 
stead of  asking  where  we  shall  be  when  a 
few  more  years  have  run  their  course,  on 
which  side  the  great  gulf  in  eternity  we 
shall  awake,  shall  we  go  away  and  forget 
till  another  sabbath  that  there  is  an  eter- 
nity ?  Then  judge  whether  any  reckless- 
ness could  be  more  appalling  than  yours 
and  mine  ;  whether  any  creature  could  be 
found,  who  has  greater  reason  than  we  to 
bethink  himself  and  tremble. 


SERMON    XXXV. 

THE  PRAYER  OF  CHRIST  FOR  HIS 
CHURCH. 

St.  John  xvii.  24. 

Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom  thou  hast 
given  me,  he  with  me  where  I  a7n,  that  they 
may  behold  my  glory. 

The  twentieth  verse  of  this  chapter 
brings  home  this  blessed  prayer  to  our- 
selves. The  Saviour  tells  us  there  that 
he  prays  not  for  his  beloved  disciples  only, 


but  for  all  who  "  should  believe  on  hinr. 
through  their  word."  Now,  brethren,  if 
any  of  us  really  believe  on  him,  then  this 
prayer  refers  to  us ;  we  are  as  much 
interested  in  it  as  Peter  who  heard  it  pro- 
ceed from  his  lips,  or  John  who  lay  in  his 
bosom  as  he  breathed  it  forth.  And  this 
is  the  way  to  extract  sweetness  from  all 
the  gracious  sayings  of  Christ,  to  connect 
ourselves  with  them,  to  believe  ourselves 
to  have  been  in  his  mind  as  he  uttered 
them  ;  not  there  undistinguished,  mixed 
up  and  half  lost  in  a  multitude,  but  as 
individually  in  his  mind,  as  though  no 
other  being  in  heaven  or  earth  were  occu- 
pying his  thoughts. 

In  thus  looking  at  the  prayer  before  us, 
we  may  consider,  first,  the  description 
which  Christ  gives  us  in  it  of  his  people; 
secondly,  the  blessings  he  supplicates  for 
them;  and,  thirdly,  the  light  which  it 
throws  on  his  own  character  and  their 
condition. 

I.  The  Lord  Jesus  describes  his  people 
in  this  text,  not  as  they  are  generally  de- 
scribed  in  scripture,  by  their  character, 
but  by  a  transaction  in  which  they  had  no 
immediate  concern,  by  a  transfer  of  them, 
which  has  taken  place  between  the  eternal 
Father  and  his  everlasting  Son.  They 
are  those,  he  says,  whom  the  Father  has 
given  him. 

But  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  lan- 


guage 


Are    not    the   heavens    and    the 


earth  Christ's  ?  and  have  they  not  been 
his,  with  all  that  lives  and  moves  and  has 
a  being  in  them,  since  the  moment  when 
they  started  into  existence  ?  Yes ;  but 
we  must  observe  that  our  Lord  is  not 
speaking  in  this  passage  as  "  God  over 
all,"  for  as  God  to  whom  could  he  pray  ? 
He  speaks  rather  in  his  human  character, 
as  the  Son  of  man,  as  the  incarnate  Medi- 
ator and  Head  of  his  ransomed  church. 
In  this  character,  the  Father  promised  to 
him  a  people,  and  has  made  them  over  to 
him — the  very  people  whom  he  had  himself 
selected  from  among  his  creatures,  to  be 
the  happiest  monuments  of  his  goodness 
and  the  richest  sharers  of  his  glory. 

The  act  of  his  bestowing  them  on  Christ 
proves  their  value  in  his  own  sight.  He 
would  not  have  offered  to  one  so  dear  to 
him,  a  gift  which  he  himself  despised. 
An  earthly  father  gives  his  child  his  best ; 
and  there  was  nothing  in  all  his  wide  do- 
minions, which  their  great  Monarch  valued 


THE  PRAYER  OF  CHRIST  FOR  HIS  CHURCH. 


191 


more,  when  he  gave  us  to  his  Son,  than  he 
valuoil  us.  Not  that  he  cut  his  people  olF, 
by  this  transfer,  from  iiimself;  not  that  he 
abandoned  the  purpose  he  had  formed  to 
redeem  them  ;  no,  he  gave  them  to  the 
anointed  Jt\sus  that  this  design  of  his  love 
might  be  accomplished,  that  all  his  purposes 
of  grace  concerning  them  might  be  more 
eirectually  and  more  gloriously  fulfilled. 

1.  Hence  we  may  view  them  as  given 
to  Christ,  in  the  first  instance,  as  his  charge. 

When  the  Father  first  set  his  love  upon 
them,  he  foresaw  that  they  would  be  utterly 
unworthy  of  his  love,  and  altogether  in- 
capable of  entering  into  his  blessedness  ; 
in  the  same  state  of  condemnation  as  their 
fellow-sinners,  and  just  as  much  alienated 
from  him,  as  earthly-minded  and  sinful. 
Ho  therefore  describes  himself  in  the 
prophet  Jeremiah  as  saying  to  them,  "  How 
shall  I  put  thee  among  the  children,  and 
give  thee  a  pleasant  land,  a  goodly  heri- 
tage, of  the  hosts  of  nations  ?"  "  How 
shall  I  take  this  condemned,  this  rebellious, 
this  polluted  people  into  my  own  unsullied 
heavens?"  It  is  plain  that  before  his 
purposes  can  be  accomplished,  his  people 
must  be  pardoned  and  justified  ;  the  honor 
of  that  holy  law  they  have  insulted  must 
be  in  some  way  vindicated,  and  his  own 
character  as  the  great  Lawgiver  upheld  : 
and  they  must  undergo  too  a  total  change 
within  their  own  souls,  have  all  their 
desires,  and  thoughts  and  hopes  purified, 
be  made  in  fact  new  men.  And  this 
arduous  work  God  confided  to  his  Son. 
He  committed  them  into  his  hands  as  their 
all-sufficient  Redeemer,  to  be  first  ransomed 
by  his  blood  and  clothed  in  his  righteous- 
ness, and  then  to  be  wrought  on  by  his 
grace,  lifted  up  in  their  affections  from 
their  native  dust,  and  taught  to  thirst  after 
heavenly  employments  and  delights. 

On  this  account  the  Lord  Jehovah  often 
speaks  of  the  incarnate  Jesus  as  his  ser- 
vant ;  and  Clirist  testifies  of  himself  as 
coming  into  the  world  with  a  conmiission 
from  his  Father,  and  as  actually  fulfilling 
here  his  destined  work.  "  I  came  down 
from  heaven,"  he  says,  "  not  to  do  mine 
own  will,  but  the  will  of  him  that  sent  me. 
And  this  is  the  Father's  will  which  hath 
sent  me,  that  of  all  which  he  hath  given 
me,  I  should  lose  nothing,  but  should  raise 
it  up  again  at  the  last  day." 

2.  But  a  gift,  to  be  acceptable,  must 
bear  to  be  tried  by  yet  another  test — the 


I  receiver  must  value  it  as  well  as  the  giver. 
If  then  Christ  has  consented  to  receive  us, 
no  matter  how  worthless  we  may  really 
be,  we  are  precious  in  his  siglit.  Just  as 
we  infer  the  love  of  the  Father  towards  us 
from  the  gift  he  made  of  us,  so  we  infer 
the  love  of  Christ  towards  us  from  his  joyful 
readiness  to  accept  us.  We  are  warranted 
therefore  to  advance  a  step  further,  and 
say  that  the  people  of  Christ  are  given  to 
him  as  his  reward. 

But  how  can  he  be  rewarded.  '•  in  whom 
dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  V 
He  is  an  infinite  Being  ;  and  how  can  his 
greatness  be  augmented  or  his  happiness 
enlarged  ?  We  cannot  answer  a  question 
like  this.  We  can  only  again  say  that 
we  have  the  Saviour  before  us  in  his  human 
form,  with  human  feelings  and  a  human 
heart  ;  and  that  heart  is  as  capable  of 
receiving  accessions  of  pleasure  as  our 
own,  and  that  nature  is  as  susceptible  as 
ours  of  honor  and  reward.  And  it  is  in 
this  human  character  that  he  receives  his 
people.  The  Father  gives  them  to  him  in 
his  assumed  office  of  a  servant,  and  as  a 
recompense  for  his  labors  in  that  office. 
He  makes  them  over  to  him  as  a  people 
peculiar  to  himself,  appointed  to  bear  his 
image,  to  show  forth  his  praise,  to  be  the 
everlasting  trophies  of  his  conquests.  This 
was  his  stipulated  reward,  and  with  this 
he  is  well  pleased.  No  sooner  did  he  hear 
the  promise,  "  He  shall  see  his  seed,"  than 
he  answered,  "  Lo,  I  come.  I  delight  to 
do  thy  will,  O  my  God."  And  what  was 
this  will  ?  Nothing  less  than  going  through 
the  lowest  degradation  and  misery  to  a 
cross,  and  from  that  cross  to  a  grave. 
And  in  this,  he  says,  he  delighted ;  not 
that  his  soul  took  pleasure  in  misery — he 
delighted  in  it,  that  by  it  he  might  purchase 
his  church  unto  himself,  that  he  might 
have  the  companions  of  his  tribulation  for 
the  companions  of  his  glory,  that  he  might 
have  such  worthless  beings  as  you  and 
me,  by  his  side  in  the  heavens,  redeemed, 
and  purified,  and  blessed.  And  O  with 
what  joy  and  triumph  will  he  appear, 
when  the  number  of  his  elect  is  accom- 
plished and  his  reward  is  full !  when  the 
last  soul  that  is  his,  shall  be  gathered  into 
his  kingilom  ;  when  the  last  stone  shall  be 
raised  in  his  spiritual  temple  ;  when  the 
last  spot  and  wrinkle  on  his  church  shall 
be  wiped  away  ;  when  not  a  grace  shall 
be  wanting,  or  a  stain  be  left ;  when  he 


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THE  PRAYER  OF  CHRIST  FOR  HIS  CHURCH. 


shall  stand  before  the  throne  of  Jehovah, 
and  say,  like  a  faithful  servant,  or  rather 
like  a  triumphant  victor,  "It  is  finished." 
"  Behold  I  and  the  children  whom  thou 
hast  iiiven  me."  "  Those  that  thou  gavest 
me,  I  have  kept,  and  none  of  them  is  lost." 
And  now,  brethren,  with  what  seriousness 
should  each  one  of  us  ask  himself,  Am  I 
one  of  this  blessed  people  ?  Has  my  soul 
been  thus  given  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ? 
Am  I  at  this  present  moment  his  charge, 
and  shall  I  be  a  part  of  his  great  reward  ? 
And  we  need  not  ascend  into  heaven, 
and  turn  over  there  the  records  of  eternity, 
to  answer  these  questions;  they  may  be 
answered  easily  and  safely  within  these 
walls.  If  I  would  know  whether  the 
everlasting  Father  has  given  me  to  his 
Son,  I  must  ask  whether  I  have  ever  given 
myself  to  that  Son.  Have  I  ever  felt  my 
need  of  his  care  and  keeping?  Influenced 
by  this  feeling,  have  I  committed  my  soul 
into  his  hands  as  guilty,  and  polluted,  and 
helpless,  to  be  washed  from  its  sins  in  his 
blood,  purified  by  his  Spirit,  and  made  meet 
for  his  presence  by  his  grace  ?  Have  I 
done  this  repeatedly  ?  Am  I  doing  it  still  ? 
with  simplicity  of  soul,  with  fervent  pray- 
er, with  deep  humiliation,  with  lively  thank- 
fulness,  with  faith  unfeigned  ?  And  how 
do  I  feel  and  act  towards  Christ  ?  Do  I  in 
the  main  fegard  myself  as  his,  his  only, 
entirely  his  ?  Have  I  given  my  heart  to 
him  ?  Is  he  its  Lord,  the  supreme  object 
of  its  desires,  the  monarch  of  its  affections, 
the  one  thing  that  it  seeks,  and  clings  to, 
and  hopes  in,  and  loves  ?  Then,  brethren, 
are  we  at  this  moment  the  charge  of  Christ, 
in  his  care  and  keeping ;  then  are  we  set 
aside  to  be  his  recompense  and  joy.  If 
we  love  Christ,  it  is  because  God  has  first 
loved  us.  If  we  have  chosen  him  for  a 
Saviour,  we  may  be  assured  that  he  has 
chosen  us  to  salvation.  If  we  are  willing 
to  be  his,  at  his  command  and  disposal,  we 
know  the  reason — he  has  made  us  "willing 
in  the  day  of  his  power."  A  process  is 
going  on  within  us,  which  stamps  us  as 
his,  and  which,  when  it  is  finished,  will 
place  us  in  heaven  among  the  jewels  of 
his  crown.  It  follows  then  that  the  prayer 
we  have  before  us,  is  nothing  less  than  a 
prayer  for  ourselves. 

II.  Let  us  consider  the  blessings  it  sup- 
plicates.    These  appear  to  be  two. 

1.  The  first  is,  the  presence  of  Christ, 
and  that  in  heaven. 


In  a  limited  sense,  the  Lord  Jesus  is 
with  us  on  earth,  but  then  he  is  often  with 
us,  as  he  was  with  his  two  mournful  disci- 
ples in  their  way  to  Emmaus,  undiscover- 
ed ;  he  walks  by  our  side,  but  through  the 
weakness  of  our  mortal  nature,  we  see 
him  not,  and  even  to  his  face  we  mourn  his 
supposed  absence.  And  when  the  veil  is 
for  a  moment  removed,  when  we  feel  that 
our  beloved  Master  is  actually  near  us,  O 
how  soon  does  he  disappear!  how  quickly 
are  the  wonderful  manifestations  of  his 
presence  gone  !  He  breaks  the  bread  of 
joy,  blesses  it,  and  gives  it  us,  and  then 
vanishes  out  of  our  sight.  At  the  best  too 
it  is  only  by  faith  that  we  see  him.  He  is 
invisible  even  when  most  enjoyed. 

Now  this  state  of  things  is  for  the  pres- 
ent good  for  us,  but  it  is  not  fully  satisfac- 
tory either  to  us  or  to  Christ.  We  long  to 
be  with  him  as  we  are  one  with  another  ; 
as  Mary,  and  Martha,  and  Lazarus,  were 
wont  to  be  with  him,  as  the  redeemed  in 
heaven  are  with  him  ;  and  he  himself  is 
not  contented  with  knowing  the  blessedness 
of  his  heavenly  glory  alone,  or  with  a  por- 
tion only  of  his  church  ;  he  deems  his 
blessedness  even  on  his  throne  not  fully 
perfect,  till  he  shares  it  with  every  soul 
that  is  his.  And  this  participation  of  feel-' 
ing  and  desire  between  the  exalted  Saviour 
and  ourselves,  should  cause  this  very  feel- 
ing and  desire  to  be  pleasurable  to  us.  It 
should  encourage  the  hope  that  as  we  are 
one  with  him  now  in  heart,  so  shall  we 
be  eventually  in  state  and  happiness. 

And  mark  where  the  presence  of  Christ 
is  to  be  enjoyed.  He  prays  that  we  may 
be  with  him  "  where  he  is,"  Now,  in  the 
spirit,  he  is  everywhere.  He  is  God,  and, 
as  God,  he  fills  all  space  with  his  exist- 
ence. He  must  speak  therefore  here  of 
that  world  wherein  he  manifests  his  pres- 
ence, where  he  dwells  in  the  body,  where 
he  even  now  lives  and  reigns  as  the  glori- 
fied Son  of  man.  And  this  is  to  be,  not 
only  with  the  most  glorious  Being  in  the 
universe,  but  with  him  in  the  most  glorious 
place  ;  in  the  place  which  he  calls  his  own 
kingdom,  his  own  city,  his  own  house ;  a 
world  which  he  has  built  to  show  forth  his 
power,  to  declare  his  greatness  by  its  mag- 
nificence as  gloriously  as  any  material 
things  can  declare  it ;  so  gloriously,  that, 
when  we  see  it,  we  shall  deem  it  almost 
worthy  to  be  his  dwelling.  To  bo  with 
him  there,  is  to  be  with  him  in  a  W(;rld    ■ 


THE  PRAYER  OF  CHRIST  FOR  HIS  CHURCH. 


193 


from  which  all  sorrow  ami  sin  are  exclu- 
ded ;  where  not  a  sini^le  unholy  feelinf^  is 
ever  experienced,  nor  a  single  tear  shed, 
nor  sigh  breathed  ;  where  the  weary  soul 
may  rest,  and  the  troubled  soul  be  quiet, 
and  the  tempted  soul  repose,  and  the  fetter- 
ed soul  be  free.  It  is  to  be  with  him  not 
alone,  but  with  the  highest  and  best  society 
the  universe  can  atTord  ;  with  cherubim 
and  seraphiin,  with  the  patriarchs  and  fa- 
th.'rs.  with  apostles,  and  prophets,  and  mar- 
tyrs. It  is  to  meet  again  in  his  blissful 
presence  the  companions  of  our  youth  ;  the 
parents,  and  children,  and  friends,  whom 
death  has  separated  from  us,  or  distance 
severed,  or  infirmity  estranged ;  and  to 
meet  them  where  death  can  touch  them  no 
more,  where  distance  can  never  intervene, 
nor  passion  disturb.  In  a  word,  it  is  to  be 
where  the  Lord  Christ  himself  delights  to 
be  ;  where  he  finds  the  materials  of  joy 
(i)r  his  own  wonderful  soul.  It  is  to  see 
his  face  in  its  brightness,  to  hear  his  voice 
in  his  happiness,  to  sit  down  at  his  glorified 
feet.  It  is  for  the  abased  members  of  the 
body  to  be  united  to  the  triumphant  Head  ; 
it  is  to  meet  the  Bridegroom  in  all  the  ra- 
diance and  joy  of  the  bridal  morning;  it 
is  to  be  with  the  incarnate  Jehovah  in  Je- 
hovah's own  everlasting  heavens. 

2.  Hence  our  Lord  connects  the  sight  of 
his  glory  with  the  enjoyment  of  his  pres- 
ence. He  seems  to  pray  for  the  one  be- 
cause it  leads  to  the  other.  "  I  will  that 
they  also  whom  thou  hast  given  me,  be  with 
me  where  I  am,  that  they  may  behold  my 
glory." 

And  what  are  we  to  understand  by  the  glo- 
ry of  Christ?  There  is  no  difficulty  in  telling 
what  interpretation  our  own  minds,  if  we  did 
not  check  them,  would  give  to  this  language. 
We  should  labor  to  place  our  blessed  Mas- 
ter before  us  in  a  form  of  more  than  angel- 
ic radiance,  surrounded  with  a  brightness 
such  as  no  human  eye  has  ever  gazed  on, 
and  worshipped  by  the  countless  hosts  of 
countless  worlds.  We  should  strain  our 
imaginations  to  paint  a  scene  of  unearthly 
splendor.  But,  after  all,  what  should  we 
have  done  ?  Little  more  than  betrayed 
the  weakness  of  our  own  souls.  Instead 
of  showing  how  high  an  incarnate  God 
may  rise,  we  should  only  show  how  low  in 
its  conceptions  an  immortal  spirit  may 
sink.  The  chief  glory  of  the  exalted  Sa- 
viour consists  not  in  such  things  as  these. 
It  is  a  spiritual  glory.  It  is  independent 
25 


of  situation  or  circumstances.  It  flows  not 
from  the  throne  he  sits  on,  nor  the  world 
he  dwells  in,  nor  from  any  thing  of  an  out- 
ward nature.  A  cross  could  not  impair 
the  sceptre  of  heaven  can  scarcely  aug- 
ment  it.  It  is  the  glory  of  his  perfections; 
the  honor  that  results  to  him  from  tlie  mani- 
festations  he  has  made  of  his  holiness,  and 
power,  and  grace.  Some  of  these  mani- 
festations are  revealed  to  us  now,  they  are 
visible  on  earth  ;  but  the  view  we  get  of 
them  here  is  partial  and  obscure,  when 
compared  with  their  effulgence  in  heaven. 
We  know  not,  indeed,  all  the  modes  in 
which  he  is  there  unfolding  his  excellences. 
They  may  exceed  our  conceptions  in  their 
variety,  as  much  as  they  will  assuredly 
surpass  them  in  their  nature  and  extent. — 
But  scripture  seems- to  warrant  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  chief  glory  of  Christ,  even  in 
heaven,  emanates  from  the  work  he  has 
performed  in  this  fallen  world.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  but  that  this  was  the  glory 
he  had  more  immediately  in  his  mind  at 
this  time.  He  speaks  not  of  "  the  new 
heavens  and  the  new  earth,"  of  that  splen- 
did universe  which  will  succeed  the  pres- 
ent marred  creation,  and  make  the  morn- 
ing stars  once  more  sing  together  with  ad- 
miring joy;  he  alludes  not  perhaps  to  his 
own  form  of  heavenly  beauty ;  he  refers 
mainly  to  his  glory  as  the  once  abased  but 
now  triumphant  Mediator;  that  exhibition 
of  his  perfections,  which  is  displayed  in 
his  redeemed  church  ;  in  the  mode  of  its 
redemption,  in  the  greatness  of  that  happy 
multitude  which  compose  it,  in  their  exalt- 
ation, tiieir  purity,  and  bliss.  Saint  Paul 
tells  the  Thessalonians  of  the  glory  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  in  the  day  of  his  appearing  . 
he  connects  it  with  his  presence  ;  and  then 
he  immediately  adds,  '•  He  shall  come  to 
be  glorified  in  his  saints,  and  to  be  admired 
in  all  them  that  believe."  The  glory 
which  their  salvation  will  throw  around 
him,  will  constftute,  in  the  scene  of  his 
proudest  triumph,  his  highest  honor  ;  it  will 
be  so  amazingly  great,  that  the  Holy  Spir- 
it describes  him  as  coming  down  from  the 
heavens  to  claim  it.  It  is  too  a  glory  ot 
which  the  redeemed  can  form  the  best  esti- 
mate, and  in  which  undoubtedly  they  must 
take  the  deepest  interest.  It  is  mixed  up 
with  themselves.  They  are  the  honored 
instruments  of  its  manifestation  and  display. 
This  glory  Christ  prays  that  we  may  he 
with  him  to  behold  ;  but  do  we  not  see  it 


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THE  PRAYER  OF  CHRIST  FOR  HIS  CHURCH. 


now  ?  Yes,  brethren  ;  if  we  are  really 
on  our  way  to  heaven,  God  "has  already 
shined  in  our  hearts,  to  give  us  the  light 
of  the  knowledge  of  his  glory  in  the  face 
of  Jesus  Christ."  There  are  moments 
when  it  almost  overpowers  our  minds  with 
its  biightness.  But  what,  even  in  these  fa- 
vored moments,  do  we  discern  of  it  ?  About 
as  much  as  a  man  just  emerging  from 
blindness  beholds  of  the  ocean,  when  he 
takes  of  it  his  first  wondering  glance.  We 
must  be  with  Christ  where  be  is,  before  we 
can  form  one  adequate  conception  of  its 
greatness.  We  must  escape  from  a  world 
of  littleness  and  shadows,  this  scene  of  de- 
lusive pomp  and  empty  glitter.  Our  souls 
must  be  set  free  from  their  prisons  of  dust. 
They  must  be  rectified  in  their  judgment  of 
things,  and  enlarged  and  refined  in  their 
powers,  by  the  air  of  a  nobler  world.  We 
must  wake  up  to  a  sense  of  spiritual  beau- 
ty ;  not  that  faint  and  transient  sense  of  it, 
which  now  distinguishes  the  heaven-born 
Christian,  and,  weak  as  it  is,  elevates  him 
high  above  his  fellow-men  ;  but  to  such  a  per- 
ception of  its  excellence,  as  annihilates  the 
splendor  of  all  outward  greatness,  and 
leaves  us  nothing  to  admire  in  any  crea- 
ture, except  the  traces  we  can  discover  in 
him  of  his  Creator's  likeness.  And  then 
at  last  we  shall  see  our  glorified  Master  in 
some  measure  as  he  is,  and  the  consequence 
will  be,  we  shall  be  cbanged  into  his  image. 
The  sight  we  shall  get  of  his  greatness, 
will  make  us  great.  It  will  assimilate  us 
to  the  Being  we  admire.  Here  already  a 
resemblanc'e  is  begun  between  him  and  us  ; 
it  began  from  the  moment  when  we  first 
lifted  up  to  him  the  eye  of  faith  ;  this  vision 
of  his  heavenly  glory  will  complete  it ;  not 
indeed  bring  it  at  once,  no,  nor  ever,  to  its 
perfection,  but  make  it  at  once  so  close,  so 
transcendent,  that  the  astonished  soul  will 
deem  itself  almost  absorbed  in  the  radiance 
of  its  Lord.  "  We  know,"  says  John, 
"  that  when  he  shall  appear,  we  shall  be 
like  him  ;"  and  why  shall  we  be  like  him  ? 
He  tells  us — "  we  shall  sec  him  as  he  is." 
These  then  are  the  blessings  which 
Christ  here  supplicates  for  us.  What  more 
could  he  have  asked  ?  O  that  our  prayers 
for  ourselves  always  rose  as  liigii  !  They 
could  not  rise  higher.  The  noblest  arch- 
angel among  the  hosts  of  heaven  could  not 
wish  for  more.  "  Happy  are  thy  men," 
said  the  <iueen  of  Sheba  to  Solomon,  "  hap- 
py are  these  thy  servants,  which  stand  con- 


tinually  before  thee  ;"  but  what  is  the  pres- 
ence of  Solomon  to  the  presence  of  Christ  ? 
"  It  is  good  for  us  to  be  here,"  exclaimed 
Peter  on  the  mount  of  transfiguration  ;  but 
what  was  that  wondrous  mountain  with  its 
shining  cloud,  and  its  celestial  visitants, 
and  their  glittering  raiment  ?  The  eye  of 
man  bore  "the  sigh't  of  it ;  but  "  I  fell  at  his 
feet  as  dead,"  said  John,  when  he  saw  the 
Saviour's  glory  in  heaven.  And  what 
would  Peter  say  now  of  the  happiness  of 
that  once  splendid  hour  ?  It  was  a  foretaste 
of  heaven  ;  but  no  more  like  heaven,  than 
Peter,  the  fisherman,  on  the  lake  of  Gali- 
lee, was  like  Peter,  the  blessed,  near  the 
throne  of  God.  It  was  the  happiness  of  a 
babe,  compared  with  the  tide  of  joy  that 
sometimes  for  a  moment  runs  through  the 
breast  of  a  satisfied  and  happy  man.  It 
was  less.  It  was  the  first  gleam  of  the 
morning,  that  announces  the  rising  sun,  but 
gives  us  not  one  faint  idea  of  its  mid-day 
effulgence. 

Ili.  It  remains  now  that  wemquire  what 
light  this  prayer  throws  first  on  Christ's  own 
character,  and  then  on  our  condition. 

1.  We  may  certainly  trace  in  it  human 
fee'lmg,  two  at  least  of  the  ordinary  Avork- 
ings  of  the  human  heart. 

We  are  all  conscious  that  if  we  tenderly 
love  a  friend,  his  mere  presence  is  pleasur- 
able to  us.  We  wish  to  be  where  he  is,  even 
though  we  should  have  no  intercourse  with 
him.  There  is  a  gratification  in  simply 
being  by  his  side.  David  felt  this,  and  felt 
it  towards  his  God.  He  expresses  it  strong- 
ly. "  In  thy  presence,"  he  says,  "  is  the 
fulness  of  joy." 

We  are  all  conscious  too  of  another  ten- 
dency of  our  nature.  Let  any  great  or 
signal  good  be  conferred  on  us,  let  our 
hearts  glow  with  any  fresh  accession  of 
joy,  our  first  impulse  is  to  make  those  whom 
we  love  acquainted  with  our  happiness. 
We  scarcely  begin  to  enjoy  it  fully  till  they 
also  rejoice  in  it.  Nay,  brethren,  which 
of  us,  at  some  time  or  another,  has  not 
found  his  mercies  and  joys  saddened,  be- 
cause those  who  would  have  shared  in  the 
gladness  they  impart,  can  know  nothing  of 
them,  are  lying  unconscious  in  the  grave  ? 
Our  children,  when  unchecked,  are  daily 
manifesting  this  feeling  in  their  little  plea- 
sures  ;  and  if  we  turn  to  the  last  interview 
of  Joseph  with  his  brethren,  we  shall  find 
there  a  touching  instance  of  its  strength. 
It  was  a  moment  of  great  excitement.     lie 


THE  PRAYER  OF  CHRIST  FOR  HIS  CHURCH. 


195 


had  just  given  way  to  the  strun^gling  emo- 
tions of  liis  soul,  and  discovered  himself  to 
his  astonished  brothers ;  and  now  this  natural 
feeling  forces  itself  out  most  conspicuously. 
HisNfather  must  know,  and  know  at  once, 
of  his  elevation  and  greatness.  "  Haste 
ye,"  he  says,  "  and  go  up  to  my  father,  and 
say  unto  him.  Thus  saith  thy  son  Joseph, 
God  hath  made  me  lord  of  all  Egypt." 
And  that  one  earnest  charge  does  not  con- 
tent him.  "  Ye  shall  tell  my  father,"  he 
says  again,  "  of  all  my  glory  in  Egypt, 
and  of  all  that  ye  have  seen." 

And  now  look  at  the  man  Christ  Jesus. 
He  is  about  to  be  separated  from  the  friends 
he  loves,  to  be  removed  as  far  away  from 
them  as  death  can  sever  him.  And  how 
does  he  act  ?  They  are  to  be  left  in  an  en- 
snaring world  ;  he  prays  for  them  therefore, 
in  the  first  place,  that  they  may  be  kept 
from  its  evils  ;  and  then  he  prays,  as  though 
he  were  praying  for  himself  rather  than  for 
them,  that  they  may  be  with  him  again, 
that  "  where  he  is,  there  they  may  be  also." 

It  is  impossible  to  read  this  prayer  and 
the  address  which  precedes  it,  without  dis- 
covering the  tender  and  almost  intense  plea- 
sure which  the  Saviour  derived  from  the 
company  of  his  disciples,  the  sorrow  which 
he  felt  at  the  prospect  of  losing  it,  and  the 
quiet  but  yet  deep  pleasure  with  which  he 
looked  forward  to  enjoying  it  again.  As 
for  "the  joy  that  was  set  befjre  him,"  the 
idea  that  they  would  ultimately  behold  it, 
that  they  would  find  their  chief  happiness 
in  the  contemplation  of  it,  appears  to  give 
it  in  his  mind  new  power  and  value. 

And  is  it  not  cheering,  brethren,  and  use- 
ful also,  to  trace  in  our  beloved  Lord  such 
feelings  as  these?  They  seem  to  bring  him 
so  very  near  us,  to  render  him  so  easily 
approachable,  to  set  him  before  us  as  so  ex- 
ceedingly attractive  ;  they  so  encourage  and 
sweeten  our  communion  with  him,  that  we 
can  scarcely  think  of  them  too  often,  or 
dwell  on  them  too  much.  If  any  one  will 
turn  this  cup  of  mercy  into  a  poison,  will 
push  this  matter  further,  and  place  sinful 
feelings,  tlie  corrupt  tendencies  of  our  fall- 
en nature,  in  the  heart  of  that  Being  whom 
all  heaven  adores  for  his  holiness,  I  would 
say  to  myself,  "  O  my  soul,  come  not  thou 
into  their  secret ;"  I  would  say  to  you, 
Not  for  worlds  believe  them.  Carry  your 
view  of  the  humanity  of  your  incarnate 
God  to  the  utmost  bouml  that  perfect  purity 
will  go ;  you  cannot  then  carry  it  too  far  ;  I 


scripture  will  go  with  you  all  the  way  ; 
but  to  pass  that  bound,  to  conceive  of  the 
great  Lord  of  the  heavens  as  having  been 
tainted  at  ahy  time  with  our  base  appetites, 
and  corroded  with  our  vile  affections  ;  to 
look  on  him  from  whom  must  proceed  every 
holy  desire  and  right  feeling  which  can  en- 
ter our  minds,  as  having  admitted  into  his 
own  mind  any  thing  that  defiles — the 
thought  is  appalling ;  we  could  not  harbor, 
we  could  not  tolerate  it  for  a  moment,  if 
we  had  once  caught  the  faintest  glimpse  of 
the  exalted  Saviour  as  he  is,  or  had  one 
just  conception  of  his  glory. 

2.  We  may  discover  also  in  this  prayer 
the  strength  and  tenderness  of  our  Lord's 
love. 

Our  manifestations  of  affection  towards 
the  objects  of  our  regard,  come  from  us 
when  our  minds  are  not  much  taken  up 
with  our  own  concerns,  in  the  intervals  of 
leisure  and  repose.  Acute  sorrows,  or  any 
deep  emotions  of  pleasure,  leave  us  but 
little  inclination  to  enter  into  the  joys  or 
griefs  of  otlicrs.  We  become  almost  inev- 
itably more  or  less  selfish,  and  want  to  re- 
ceive sympathy  rather  than  impart  it.  But 
not  so  Christ.  He  was  now  drawing  near 
the  hour  of  his  crucifixion.  Standing  on 
the  very  verge  of  that  fathomless  sea  of 
wo,  through  which  he  was  about  to  pass, 
we  might  have  supposed  that  every  thought 
of  his  mind  would  have  been  given  to  it, 
that  he  would  not  have  had  a  feeling  with- 
in him  for  any  other  than  himself.  But 
what  is  the  fact  ?  If  he  has  not  forgotten 
his  own  approaching  miseries  in  the  sor- 
rows of  others,  he  acts  as  though  he  had 
forgotten  them  ;  his  last  employment  be- 
fore his  agony  begins,  is  a  long  and  pains- 
taking  effort  to  comfort  a  few  troubled 
hearts.  His  disciples  are  cast  down  at  the 
prospect  of  losing  him  ;  he  talks  no  more, 
he  seems  to  think  no  more,  of  Gcthsemane, 
and  Golgotha,  and  Calvary  ;  every  power 
of  his  mind  is  called  into  exercise  to  chase 
away  their  grief.  That  was  the  triumph 
of  love  over  fear  and  anguish  ;  look  now 
at  another  triumph  it  achieved  over  hope 
and  joy. 

These  emotions  were  at  this  time  in  ac- 
tive exercise  in  the  Saviour's  breast.  We 
are  told  that  "  for  the  joy  that  was  set  be- 
fore  him,  he  endured  the  cross,  despising 
the  shame;"  he  had  such  a  foresight  of 
the  glory  which  awaited  him,  so  ardent  a 
desire  and  so  vivid  an  expectation  of  enter- 


196 


THE  PRAYER  OF  CHRIST  FOR  HIS  CHURCH. 


ing  into  it,  that  he  rose  superior  to  the  scenes  I 
of  darkness  which  separated  it  from  him. 
Hope  triumphed  over  fear.  It  did  not  an- 
nihilate it,  but  it  wrought  more  powerfully. 
But  it  could  not  force  love  to  give  way. 
AVith  all  its  mighty  influence  and  all  its 
unutterable  blessedness,  it  left  the  Saviour 
as  much  alive  to  every  feeling  in  his  disci- 
ples' hearts,  as  though  he  had  not  a  single 
emotion  in  his  own. 

And  look  at  him  yet  again.  His  work 
of  sufiering  is  now  past.  He  is  on  the 
mount  of  Olivet,  about  to  go  to  his  long 
looked  for  glory.  The  cloud  that  is  to  re- 
ceive him,  is  hovering  over  him  ;  the  ever- 
lasting gates  are  opened  ;  all  the  hosts  of 
heaven  are  waiting  with  eager  expectation 
for  their  returning  King  ;  there  is  but  a 
moment,  but  a  step,  between  him  and  the 
utmost  joy  that  even  his  soul  can  know. 
And  where  are  his  thoughts  ?  In  heaven, 
amidst  its  splendors  and  joys?  No;  they 
are  among  his  disciples  still.  "  He  lifted 
up  his  hands  and  blessed  them."  He  goes 
into  heaven,  looking  down  on  those  whom 
he  loved  on  earth  ;  almost  leading  us  to  be- 
lieve that  he  has  left  them  with  reluctance, 
that  he  had  rather  stay  and  share  their  la- 
bors and  sorrows,  than  go  up  to  his  heaven- 
ly joy  alone. 

There  is  no  overcoming  of  Christ's  love 
for  his  people.  It  is  an  unconquerable 
love.  Sorrow  could  not  make  him  neglect, 
nor  can  joy  cause  him  to  forget  them.  No 
situation  can  impair  his  love,  no  circum- 
stances alter  it.  It  has  the  mastery  of  his 
infinite  mind. 

3.  We  see  lastly,  in  this  text,  the  cer- 
tainty of  the  Christian'' s  salvation. 

It  is  certain,  for  it  has  not  only  been  pur- 
chased for  him  by  the  most  precious  blood 
that  was  ever  shed,  ensured  to  him  by  the 
most  solemn  promises,  and  taken  posses- 
sion of  in  his  behalf;  it  is  an  object  of  the 
desire,  of  the  earnest  supplication  and  pray- 
er, of  no  less  exalted  a  petitioner  than  the 
Son  of  God.  And  not  only  this,  his  own 
glory  and  happiness  are  concerned  in  our 
attainment  of  it.  We  are  his  charge,  and 
he  must  not  suffer  us  to  perish  ;  we  are  his 
reward,  and  he  will  not  lose  us.  From  our 
salvation  flows  much  of  his  own  honor ; 
he  has  condescended  to  make  us  necessary 
to  his  own  eternal  joy.  The  scripture 
speaks  as  though  his  bliss  were  not  com- 
plete without  us.  "  He  shall  see,"  it  says, 
»'  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  and  shall  be 


satisfied."  He  rejoices  now,  but  he  rests 
not  in  his  joy,  he  is  not  satisfied  till  we 
share  it.  True,  we  are  vile  as  the  dust 
we  tread  on,  worthy  only  to  be  dashed  to 
pieces  by  his  arm,  or  preserved  in  exist- 
ence as  monuments  of  his  pleasure  ;  but 
he  mixes  us  up  with  his  glory,  involves  his 
own  felicity  as  man  with  our  salvation  ; 
and  sooner  shall  heaven  and  earth  pass 
away,  than  this  connection  be  severed,  than 
our  souls  be  lost.  If  we  have  given  our- 
selves to  him,  as  surely  as  we  now  breathe 
the  air  of  earth,  we  shall  see  his  face  in 
his  own  happy  heaven.  We  may  for  a  time, 
like  these  disciples,  be  in  heaviuess  and  sor- 
row, have  yet  many  a  weary  year  to  pass 
in  a  harassing  and  exhausting  world  ;  we 
may,  like  them,  lose  sight  of  our  Lord  ; 
our  expectations  from  him  may  waver,  and 
our  hope  may  perish  ;  we  may  sometimes 
be  well-nigh  tempted  to  forsake,  and  at 
other  times  be  hardly  able  to  cleave  to  him  ; 
but  all  this  while,  this  petition  concerning 
us  stands  registered  in  heaven  ;  all  this 
while,  it  is  tiie  desire  of  Christ,  the  longing 
of  his  soul,  that  we  may  be  "  where  he  is, 
and  behold  his  glory." 

With  such  a  prospect  before  us,  so  glo- 
rious and  so  certain,  shall  we  say  one  to 
another.  Let  us  lift  up  our  heads  with  joy 
amidst  the  troubles  of  an  evil  world  ?  This 
prospect  seems  to  annihilate  our  troubles: 
we  wonder  that  they  should  ever  draw  from 
us  one  tear  or  sigh.  We  are  to  sojourn 
in  Mesech  but  a  little  longer ;  we  are  soon 
to  take  our  leave  forever  of  the  tents  of 
Kedar ;  we  are  already  within  tiie  distant 
rays  of  that  glory  which  is  our  sure  in- 
heritance ;  and  can  the  light  afflictions  of 
this  present  time  have  more  power  to  de- 
press, tiian  that  "far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory"  has  to  elevate 
and  gladden  us  ?  O  no !  Our  concern 
shall  be  to  feel  and  act  like  men  who  are 
going  to  a  happy  and  holy  Saviour  in  a 
holy  and  happy  world.  We  will  labor  to 
have  "our  conversation  in  heaven;"  to 
catch  something  of  its  spirit  before  we  en- 
ter into  its  joy. 

And  one  word  to  you,  brethren,  who  fear 
that  these  things  concern  you  not.  Have 
they  enkindled  your  desires  ?  Have  they 
excited  in  you  one  wish  that  Christ  were 
yours  and  you  were  Christ's  ?  O  carry 
out  that  wish  into  supplication,  turn  those 
desires  into  prayers.  You  behold  here  a 
praying  Saviour ;  and  what  is  the  object  of 


THE  BAPTISM  OF  CHRIST. 


197 


his  petition  ?  The  salvation  of  his  ran- 
sonned  people.  Have  you  no  reason  then 
to  pray  for  your  own  salvation  ?  And  does 
not  this  prayer  show  you  what  Christ  really 
is  ?  in  what  he  delights,  and  in  what  his  joy, 
and  his  blessedness,  and  glory,  lie?  They 
lie  in  this  one  thing,  in  saving  souls  ;  in 
carrying  just  such  souls  as  yours,  lost  and 
sinful  and  wretched,  to  a  pure  and  blissful 
world.  Commit  yourselves  then  to  his 
care.  Look  upward  and  supplicate  that 
faith  in  him,  which  will  place  you  in  his 
hands.  It  is  no  unattainable,  mysterious 
thing.  It  is  nothing  more  than  a  simple 
belief  in  the  testimony  of  God  concerning 
him,  a  giving  credit  to  his  promises,  a  con- 
fidence in  his  power,  his  goodness,  and  love. 
Approach  him  with  this,  and,  in  that  mo- 
ment, he  will  number  you  among  those  that 
are  his  ;  he  will  cleanse  you  from  all  your 
sins  in  the  fountain  of  his  precious  blood  ; 
he  will  cover  you  with  a  "  robe  of  right- 
eousness;" he  will  keep  you  by  his  om- 
nipotence ;  and  as  surely  as  you  close  your 
eyes  in  death,  so  surely,  when  you  open 
them  again,  you  shall  see  the  face  of  your 
Redeemer,  see  him  as  your  Redeemer  and 
be  welcomed  by  him  as  his  own. 


SERMON    XXXVI. 

THE    BAPTISM    OF    CHRIST. 

St.  Luke  iii.  21,  22. 

Fuw  when  all  thr  people  were  baptized,  it  came 
to  pass  that  Jesus  also  being  baptized  and 
praying,  the  heaven  was  opened,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  descended  in  a  bodily  shape  like  a  dove 
upon  hini,  and  a  voice  came  J  nun  heaven,  which 
said.  Thou  art  my  beloved  Son;  in  thee  I  am 
well  pleased. 

We  often  say,  brethren,  that  a  man's 
character  is  l)est  seen  in  his  life.  And  wo 
are  every  day  acting  on  this  maxim — we 
watch  the  conduct  of  those  whom  we  wish 
to  understand.  And  why  should  we  not 
apply  the  same  rule  of  judging  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  ?  It  is  as  true  with  reference 
to  him  as  to  any  one  of  our  fellow-men  ; 
and,  in  fact,  there  is  no  other  way  of  ob- 
taining so  impressive  and  distinct  a  view 
of  his  character.  Prophets  have  written 
and  apostles  have  testified  concerning  him  ; 
his  people  on  earth  have  told  us  of  his  ex- 


cellency, and  all  the  songs  of  heaven 
speak  his  praises  ;  but  if  wo  would  know 
the  blessed  Saviour  aright,  if  we  would  con- 
template the  clearest  and  most  affecting  ex- 
hibition of  his  perfections,  we  must  turn  to 
his  life  ;  we  must  endeavor  to  learn  what 
he  is,  by  what  he  has  said,  suffered,  and 
done.  And  he  himself  invites  our  inqui- 
ries. He  calls  on  us,  in  his  word,  to  "  look 
unto"  him.  to  "  consider",  him,  to  "  grow  in 
the  knowledge"  of  him,  and  he  promises 
us  as  the  effect  of  this  consideration  ano 
the  fruit  of  this  knowledge,  an  increase  of 
grace,  a  removing  from  us  of  the  faintness 
and  weariness  of  our  minds,  the  "  multi- 
plying" of  our  peace. 

We  have  now  before  us  the  first  event 
of  his  public  life.  Let  us  view  it  as  an 
exhibition  of  his  character.  And  may  the 
light  of  his  Spirit  shine  on  it,  and  reveal  to 
us  in  it  his  glory  ! 

We  will  begin  with  the  reason  assignea 
for  our  Lord's  baptism,  then  pass  on  to  the 
baptism  itself,  and  afterwards  notice  the 
wonderful  event  which  accompanied  or 
rather  followed  it. 

I.  Saint  Matthew  gives  us  the  reason  why 
this  baptism  took  place.  According  to  his 
account  of  the  transaction,  it  appears  that 
John  hesitated  at  first  to  baptize  his  Lord. 
"  He  forbade  him,"  we  are  told,  and  he  did 
tliis  on  the  ground  of  his  own  inferiority 
and  unworthiness.  "  I  have  need  to  be 
l)aptizcd  of  tliee,  and  comest  thou  to  me  ?" 
But  had  an  angel  I)cen  standing  in  that 
river  instead  of  John,  we  migiit  still  have 
wondered  that  the  holy  Jesus  should  come 
there  for  such  a  purpose.  Baptism  is  for 
sinners.  It  is  an  outward  washing,  indic- 
ative of  inward  pollution  and  a  need  of  in- 
ward cleansing.  But  what  pollution  was 
there  witliin  that  Saviour's  heart  ?  It  was 
as  free  from  stain  then  on  the  bank  of  Jor- 
dan, as  it  is  now  on  the  throne  of  God. 
Why  then  subject  himself  to  a  rite  de- 
signed  only  for  the  unclean  ?  He  liiniself 
tolls  us.  "  Suffer  it  to  be  so  now,"  ho  said 
to  John,  "  for  thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfil 
all  righteousness."  He  was  anxious  to 
obey  every  divine  law,  to  conform  to  every 
divine  mstitution,  to  work  out  and  complete 
a  righteousness  extensive  as  the  divine 
commands. 

And  this  answer  exhibits  the  Saviour  to 
us  in  two  characters,  each  illustrating  the 
propriety  of  his  Ijaplism. 

1.  He  stands  here  as  the  Representative 


198 


THE  BAPTISM  OF  CHRIST. 


of  Ids  people.  Now  they  are  an  unclean 
people.  Sin  has  defiled  every  one  of  them, 
and  to  such  an  extent,  that  they  are  loath- 
some in  the  sight  of  God,  and  when  their 
eyes  are  opened,  they  are  loathsome  also 
to  themselves.  It  is  plain  then,  that  before 
they  can  be  happy,  happy  with  God  or  in 
themselves,  all  this  uncleanness  must  be 
done  away ;  sin  must  be  removed  from 
them.  And  now  look  at  the  Lord  Jesus. 
It  matters  not  how  pure  he  may  be  in  him- 
self, he  comes  forth  as  the  Representative 
of  the  impure,  and  as  such,  he  must  sub- 
mit to  that  ordinance  which  is  emblemati- 
cal of  the  cleansing  they  need.  They  re- 
quire the  purification  of  the  heart,  the 
washing  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  he  therefore 
must  come  to  Jordan  to  be  baptized,  he 
therefore  must  have  its  waters  poured  on 
his  holy  head.  We  argue  from  his  ap- 
pearing in  their  form,  that  he  was  the 
Representative  of  his  sinful  people  ;  and 
then  we  argue  from  his  being  their  Repre- 
sentative, that  it  became  him  to  be  bap- 
tized. 

2.  He  was  also  llieir  Head  ;  standing  in 
the  relation  to  them  of  a  Leader  or  Chief. 

We  know  that  baptism  is  to  them  more 
than  an  emblem  ;  it  is  an  entering  into  the 
church  of  the  living  God,  a  rite  by  which 
they  connect  themselves  outwardly  with 
God  and  with  those  that  are  his.  And  ob- 
serve, it  is  not  a  rite  of  their  own  choos- 
ing or  appointing  ;  it  was  ordained  from 
heaven.  Is  there  then  in  the  wide  creation 
some  Being  constituted  the  Head  of  this 
people  ?  Then  it  is  meet  and  right  that 
he  sliould  go  down  into  the  waters  through 
which  they  have  to  pass  ;  that  he  should 
sanction  the  ordinance  of  his  own  an- 
pointment  ;  that  he  should  teacli  all  wno 
come  after  him,  to  reverence  and  obey  it. 
"  By  one  Spirit  are  we  all  baptized  into  one 
body,"  says  tlie  apostle  ;  and  Christ  enters 
the  body  of  his  church,  becomes  a  partaker 
of  its  duties  and  privileges,  in  the  same 
way.  The  Captain  of  our  salvation  puts 
on  himself  the  garb  in  which  he  arrays  his 
soldiers.  Tlie  Commander  submits  first  to 
the  oath  that  ho  enjoins  on  his  followers. 

Besides,  Christ  has  been  "  chosen  out  of 
the  people"  over  whom  he  is  exalted.  He 
is  one  of  the  body  of  A\hich  lie  is  Chief; 
one  of  "  many  brethren,"  though  "  the  first- 
born" of  all.  And  there  is  on  this  account 
also  an  evident  propriety  in  liis  being  con- 
formed to  them,  as  far  as  his  lioly  nature 


will  admit  of  this  conformity.  Their  own 
hearts  desire  it.  Their  language  is,  "  We 
know  that  the  Beloved  of  our  souls  is  holy, 
all  purity  within  as  well  as  all  glory  with- 
out ;  but  there  is  no  pollution  in  the  laver 
in  which  we  are  commanded  to  wash  ;  it 
will  leave  not  a  stain  even  on  a  heavenly 
garment ;  and  we  would  have  our  Master 
use,  and  consecrate,  and  bless  it.  In  all 
that  is  harmless,  let  him  ])e  like  ourselves ; 
and  O  may  his  blessed  Spirit  work  in  us, 
till,  in  all  that  is  holy,  we  resemble  him." 

Am  I  making  too  much,  brethren,  of  this 
matter  ?  Is  it  going  too  far  to  say  that  for 
the  sake  of  being  conformed  to  you  and  to 
me,  the  great  Saviour  will  bow  down  his 
head  before  John  and  be  baptized  ?  The 
humble  Paul  goes  much  further.  In  his 
epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  he  ascribes  to  the 
very  same  cause  the  incarnation  of  Christ ; 
he  mentions  it  as  one  of  the  motives  which 
drew  down  the  Lord  of  the  heavens  into  a 
habitation  of  dust.  "  Forasmuch,"  he 
says,  "  as  the  children  are  partakers  of 
flesh  and  blood,  he  also  himself  likewise 
took  part  of  the  same." 

II.  Let  us  look  now  at  Ms  baptism  itself. 

1.  The  first  circumstance  that  strikes  us 
in  it,  is  Ms  simple  obedience  to  the  divine^ 
law. 

We  have  been  considering  one  reason 
why  he  should  be  baptized,  but  there  were 
many  more  reasons  why  he  should  be  ex-  ■ 
empt  from  this  rite.  John  felt  their  force, 
and  dissuaded  him  from  proceeding  ;  but 
to  what  did  they  all  amount  ?  The  law  of 
his  God  required  of  him  this  washing  of 
water,  and  that  for  him  was  enough  ;  he 
yielded  a  chcerfu]  and  determined  obedi- 
ence to  it.  True,  he  needed  no  wasiiing  ; 
true,  the  rite  was  a  ceremonial,  and  not  a 
moral  one  ;  of  no  more  importance  in 
itself  than  the  whistling  of  the  wind  around 
him,  or  the  murmuring  of  tlie  stream  at 
his  feet ;  but  the  command  of  his  Father 
had  gone  forth,  and  he  would  not  take  a 
step  in  his  career  of  mercy  lill  the  waters 
of  baptism  had  passed  over  him. 

A  lesson  fbr  you,  brethren.  It  l)ids  you 
obey  the  divine  law,  not  scan  it.  It  bids 
you  do  the  will  of  God,  not  criticise  it.  It 
says.  Let  men  talk  as  they  will  ;  l<-t  even 
the  godly  on  the  earth,  ministers  and  pro- 
phets, reason,  and  explain  away,  and  dis- 
suade ;  let  nature  condemn  and  feeling 
shrink  ;  all  these  things  are  to  be  disrc- 
garded.      Is   the    command    plain  I      Tiien 


THE  BAPTISM  OF  CHRIST. 


199 


there  must  be  no  reasonincr  about  llie  mat- 
ter ;  no  "  conferrins  with  ihs\]  and  blood." 
The  riglit  hand  must  come  oil';  the  right 
eye  must  be  plucked  out.  You  must  go 
down  with  Christ  into  Jordan.  You  must 
"  follow  the  Lamb  wiiithersocver  he  goeth." 
The  will  of  God  must  be  done,  and  every 
command  of  God  obeyed. 

2.  And  notice  the  humility  manifested 
hero,  the  amazing  condescension  of  Christ. 

From  his  childhood  to  the  present  hour, 
he  had  lain  hidden  in  Galilee,  unregarded 
and  unknown  ;  a  carpenter's  son,  with  no- 
thing about  him  to  indicate  the  divinity  of 
his  origin  or  the  glory  he  was  heir  to.  He 
was  now  coming  forth  among  men  to  make 
known  his  high  pretensions.  And  how 
does  he  appear  ?  Working  miracles  and 
doing  wonders  ?  Bursting  forth  like  the 
sun  in  his  brightness,  "  glorious  in  his  ap- 
parel, travelling  in  the  greatness  of  his 
strength  ?"  No  ;  "  he  cometh  from  Gali- 
lee to  Jordan  unto  John  to  be  baptized  of 
him."  Flis  first  act  is  an  act  of  degrada- 
tion. He  places  himself  as  a  sinner  among 
sinners  ;  he  bows  down  to  a  rite  that  none 
but  a  sinner  needs.  And  in  doing  this,  he 
disclaims  all  condescension,  he  feels  no  hu- 
miliation ;  he  makes  a  matter  of  propriety 
of  it,  of  justice  and  necessity.  In  his  esti- 
mation, it  is  "  only  fulfilling  all  righteous- 
ness." 

We  can  hardly  form  one  faint  idea  of 
the  extent  of  this  degradation.  We  think 
perhaps  of  his  appearing  before  John  as  an 
inferior,  receiving,  almost  begging,  a  ser- 
vice of  one  who  was  not  worthy  to  stoop 
down  and  unloose  his  shoes  ;  and  we  say. 
There  was  humility.  This  however  was 
as  nothing.  From  eternity  lie  had  spoken 
to  his  creatures  of  sin  as  the  abominable 
thing  that  he  hated.  It  was  the  only  thing 
in  his  universe,  that  he  had  taught  them  to 
hate.  But  now  who  and  what  is  he  ?  Not 
indeed  a  sinner,  but  appfaring  as  one,  as- 
suming a  character  he  iiad  bidden  angels 
and  archangels  loathe.  The  manges,  the 
stable,  the  carpenter's  hut  and  the  carpen- 
ter's toil — they  were  all  as  nothing;  no 
word  of  his  had  poured  contempt  on  any 
one  of  them  ;  but  to  be  the  thing  he  had 
branded  ;  to  come  forth  into  sight  as  though 
he  were  the  character  he  abhorred  ;  not 
merely  to  stand  before  the  men  of  the 
earth  and  tlie  wondering  multitude  of 
heaven,  in  "  the  likeness  of  sinful  flesh," 
but  to  act  as  though  all  the  sinfulness  of 


I  the  flesh  were  upon  liim  ; — verily,  breth- 
ren, this  was  the  infinite  abaseinrnl  of  an 
infinite  God.  We  speak  of  tlie  humility  of 
angels  ;  we  ourselves  feel  perhaps  at  times 
a  consciousness  of  degradation  such  as  no 
language  could  describe,  a  sensation  of 
meanness  and  vileness  that  shakes  us  ;  but 
what  is  it  all  ?  It  is  no  more  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  humiliation  of  Christ,  than 
the  waters  of  Jordan  with  the  deptiis  of  the 
fathomless  sea. 

3.  And  mark  also  the  devotion  the  Sav- 
iour manifested  on  this  occasion. 

Saint  Mattiiew  tells  us  that  the  people 
who  came  with  him  to  John,  made  a  pub- 
lic confession  of  their  sins  as  they  were 
baptized  in  Jordan.  In  their  case,  this  con- 
fession was  right.  It  was  an  act  of  humil- 
iation, which  harmonized  well  with  the 
ordinance  they  were  observing.  The  holy 
Jesus  however  could  take  no  part  in  it :  he 
had  not  a  sin  to  confess.  But  yet  God  is 
not  robbed  of  his  honor.  He  humbles 
himself  before  him  by  substituting  for  con- 
fession supplication  and  prayer.  "  When 
he  was  baptized,"  says  the  sacred  historian, 
he  was  baptized  "  praying,"  openly  pray- 
ing ;  so  praying,  that  his  petitions  were 
noticed  and  probably  heard  by  the  specta- 
tors around  him.  Indeed  he  seems  to  have 
begun  or  ended  every  event  of  his  life  of 
any  peculiar  importance  with  peculiar 
prayer.  He  prayed  before  his  transfigu- 
ration ;  he  lifted  up  his  eyes  to  his  Father, 
when  he  bid  Lazarus  come  forth  from  the 
dead  ;  after  he  had  fed  the  multitude  in 
the  desert,  he  "  departed  into  a  mountain 
to  pray  ;"  and  in  his  agony,  "  he  prayed 
more  earnestly,"  prayed  as  though  every 
feeling  of  his  soul  was  a  feeling  of  suppli- 
cation. 

Now  these  prayers  all  came  from  his 
heart.  As.  man,  he  was  a  creature  of 
God  ;  and  as  a  holy  creature,  he  delighted 
in  avowing  his  dependence  on  the  IBeing 
who  upheld  him.  But  why  were  so  many 
of  l)is  acts  of  devotion  public?  Why  are 
we  told  of  them  ?  Undoubtedly  to  make 
us  men  of  prayer.  He  would  teach  us 
that  God  is  to  be  acknowledged  in  all 
things ;  that  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  or 
suffered  aright  without  prayer ;  that  as  for 
ordinances,  they  are  forms  and  decencies 
without  it,  but  nothing  more.  Sacraments 
and  sermons,  the  reading  of  our  Bibles  and 
the  bending  of  our  kness — what  are  they 
all,  brethren  ?     Without  a  spirit  of  suppK. 


200 


THE  BAPTISM  OF  CHRIST. 


cation,  without  the  liftinj?  up  of  an  implornig 
heart,  they  are  just  what  we  often  find 
them  to  be — mere  vestures  and  words, 
powerless  as  "sounding  brass  or  the  tink- 
ling cymbal."  Tliese  things  save  the  soul 
alive  ?  Things  like  these  blot  out  the 
transgressions  of  a  vile  heart  and  a  worldly 
life  ?  We  know  that  they  cannot  of  them- 
selves drive  away  one  care  from  the  ach- 
ing spirit,  nor  make  one  sorrow  less. 

III.  Wc  come  now  to  our  third  subject 
— the  u-onderfu]  event  7ch/ch  attended  the 
scene  of  hmniliation  ive  have  been  contem- 
plathig.  "  It  came  to  pass,"  .says  the  evan- 
gelist, "that  Jesus  also  being  baptized  and 
praying,  the  heaven  was  opened,  and  the 
Holy  Ghost  descended  in  a  bodily  shape 
like  a  dove  upon  him,  and  a  voice  came 
from  heaven,  which  said,  Thou  art  my  be- 
loved Son  ;   in  tiiee  I  am  well  pleased." 

1.  Observe  here  the  greatness  of  Christ; 
his  dignity.  And  it  is  a  remarkable  fact 
that  throughout  his  life,  whenever  we  see 
him  signally  abased,  we  generally  see  his 
Father  putting  on  him  signal  honor,  as 
though  to  support  hinj  in  his  degradation 
and  recompense  him  for  it;  as  though  also 
infinite  patience  could  not  bear  to  look  on 
One  so  high  brought  so  low,  without  vindi- 
cating his  majesty.  He  is  born  in  a  man- 
ger, but  a  star  in  the  heavens  proclaims 
his  advent,  and  over  him  are  ringing  the 
songs  of  angels.  He  is  nailed  to  a  cross, 
but  the  shivered  rocks,  and  the  darkened 
sun,  and  the  trembling  earth,  do  him  hom- 
age. He  comes  to  Jordan  to  be  baptized, 
appears  as  a  sinner,  and  asks  for  the  cleans- 
ing that  sinners  need  ; — there  was  a  degra- 
dation and  dishonor!  but  the  heavens  are 
opened,  the  Spirit  descends,  the  voice  of 
Jehovah  cleaves  the  air,  and  where  is  the 
dishonor  now?  v\ll  rolled  away.  Tiie 
humble  sujiijliaiit,  the  cleansing  water,  are 
no  longer  thought  of.  We  behold  in  this 
companion  of  sinners  a  greatness  that 
startles  and  awes. 

But  how  can  we  account  for  this  mix- 
ture of  things  so  opposite  in  their  character  ? 
this  strange  combinatinn  of  meanness  and 
loftiness?  Only  in  ouo  way — Jesus  of 
Nazareth  is  God  as  well  as  man.  He  is 
"the  everlasting  Father,"  as  well  as  the 
creature  of  yesterday;  "the  seed  of  the 
woman,'  it  is  true,  perfect  man  ;  yea,  sunk 
so  low,  that  he  deems  himself  "a  worm 
and  no  man,  the  very  scorn  of  men  and  the 
outcast  of  the  pkiople  :"  and  yet  he  is  the 


Lord  of  angels  and  the  monarch  of  fne 
skies ;  "  God  over  all  blessed  forever." 
There  is  no  other  way  of  clearing  up  this 
seeming  incongruity.  Take  any  other 
ground  of  explanation,  deny  either  the  per- 
fect Godhead  or  the  perfect  manhood  of 
our  Lord,  and  this  passage,  and  every 
passage  like  it,  is  a  riddle  ;  nay,  the  whole 
Bible  becomes  the  darkest  book  in  the 
world. 

2.  Wo  see  here  also  the  Messiahsh/p  of 
Christ. 

Mean  as  was  his  appearance  and  lowly 
his  demeanor,  the  pretensions  of  our  Lord 
were  yet  of  the  most  lofty  character.  He 
claims  to  be  none  other  than  that  Deliverer 
whose  advent  had  been  so  long  foretold  and 
so  ardently  desired ;  the  Son  of  the  High- 
est ;  God  come  down  from  his  throne  to  be 
the  Redeemer  of  Israel.  But  how  are 
these  pretensions  to  be  established?  How 
is  the  Messiahship  of  this  Jesus  to  be 
proved  ?  God  was  determined  to  prove  it 
by  evidence  of  every  kind  that  could  be 
brouglit  to  bear  on  it.  There  shall  be 
moral  evidence,  enough  of  it  and  to  spare  ; 
and  there  shall  be  external,  sensible  evi- 
dence also,  such  as  the  eyes  and  ears  of 
men  shall  comprehend.  First  comes  the 
voice  of  prophecy,  marking  out  the  future 
Messiah  as  one  on  whom  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  was  to  descend  and  rest ;  one  who, 
at  his  entrance  on  his  office,  was  to  be 
anointed  with  the  Spirit,  just  as  earthly 
monarchs  and  priests  were  anointed  with 
the  holy  oil.  True,  this  was  a  spiritual 
prophecy,  conveying  a  meaning  purely 
spiritual,  and  to  be  fulfilled  mainly  in  a  spi- 
ritual and  consequently  invisible  manner  ; 
but  "  the  heart  of  men  was  waxed  gross," 
they  were  lost  to  spiritual  ideas,  antl  it  was 
the  will  of  God  that  their  outward  senses 
should  witness  the  accomplishment  of  his 
words.  Accordingly,  at  the  baptism  of  the 
Saviour,  he  condescends  to  make  hiniselt 
an  object  of  sense.  He  speaks  from  heaven 
in  a  voice  that  can  be  heard,  and  descends 
from  heaven  in  a  form  that  can  be  seen. 
The  eternal  Spirit  puts  on  a  bodily  shape 
like  a  dove,  and  resting,  in  the  sight  of  the 
astonished  multitude,  on  the  head  of  Jesus, 
marks  him  oul  as  the  i)redicted  and  con- 
secrated Messiali. 

And  wliile  fulfilling  one  prophrry,  the 
great  Jehovah  seems  to  bear  in  mind  an- 
other ancient  declaration  of  his  lips.  "Be- 
hold,"  said    he    by    Isaiah,  "  niy    servant 


THE  BAPTISM  OF  CHRIST. 


201 


whom  I  uphold  ;  mine  fleet  in  whom  my 
soul  deliphteth  ;  I  have  put  my  Spirit  upon 
him."  This  Spirit  comes  down  on  this 
chosen  servant ;  and  what  is  the  language 
of  Jehovah  now  ?  It  echoes  his  language 
hy  his  propliet ;  "  Thou  art  my  beloved 
Son  ;   in  thee  I  am  well  pleased.." 

Besides,  in  all  this  there  was  a  special 
reference  to  John  himself.  It  appears  that 
though  born  of  the  same  family,  his  per- 
sonal acquaintance  with  our  Lord  was 
slight,  or  none  at  all.  "  I  knew  him  not," 
he  says.  He  knew  his  pretensions,  but 
not  his  person.  And  this  was  wisely  or- 
dered ;  it  took  away  the  appearance  of 
contrivance  and  collusion.  But  one  con- 
sequence of  it  was,  John's  own  mind  stood 
in  some  degree  of  doubt  as  to  the  identity 
of  Jesus;  he  was  not  sure  that  he  was 
actually  that  son  of  Mary,  who  had  been 
born  thirty  years  before  at  Bethlehem. 
His  doubts  therefore  must  be  removed  ;  and 
this  miraculous  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
served  to  remove  them.  It  was  the  very 
sign  promised  to  him  before  it  occurred. 
"  He  that  sent  me  to  baptize  with  water," 
he  says,  "  the  same  said  unto  me,  Upon 
whom  thou  shalt  see  the  Spirit  descending 
and  remaining  on  him,  the  same  is  he 
which  baptizeth  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  And 
I  saw  and  bare  record  that  this  is  the  Son 
of  God." 

3.  But  this  event  establishes  another 
point.  AVhile  it  proves  the  reality  of  our 
Lord's  Messiahship,  it  declares  his  qualifi- 
cations for  the  discharge  of  this  office. 

We  know  what  the  Messiah  was  to  ac- 
complish. It  was  more  than  instructing 
and  moralizing  the  world  ;  he  came  to 
take  out  a  people  from  among  its  suffering 
inhabitants,  and  make  them  exalted  and 
happy  as  the  angels  of  God.  Now  before 
this  great  end  can  be  elfccted,  we  feel  at 
once  that  an  atonement  for  our  sins,  though 
necessary  for  us,  is  but  a  part  of  what  we 
need.  There  is  something  wrong  within 
us  ;  something  that  stands  in  the  way  of 
all  true  honor  and  happiness,  that  mars 
even  our  earthly  comforts,  and  totally  in- 
capacitates the  soul  for  heavenly  pursuits 
and  joys.  We  feel  that  some  great  change 
must  take  place  within  us  ;  that  the  dis- 
order of  our  nature  must  be  rectified  and 
the  diseases  of  our  spirits  healed.  And  yet 
we  are  paralyzed.  We  cannot  rid  our- 
selves of  this  disordered  mind  ;  we  are  un- 
able to  attain  holy  and  heavenly  affections. 
26 


It  is  natural  therefore  for  us  to  ask,  Can 
this  Saviour  help  us?  We  know  that  he 
has  silenced  the  thunders  of  the  law,  for  in 
his  own  suffering  body  and  agonized  soul 
he  has  endured  its  curse ;  but  can  he 
cleanse  the.se  hearts  of  ours  from  their  cor- 
ruptions, and  give  us  the  light,  and  the 
strength,  and  the  purity,  and  the  blessed- 
ness, we  need  ?  This  scripture  assures  us 
that  he  can.  The  Spirit  descended  on  him 
in  Jordan  to  qualify  him  for  what  we  may 
call  the  moral  part  of  his  great  work  ;  to 
enable  him  to  reach  the  mind  of  man,  and 
influence  and  rule  it.  He  himself  tells  us 
so.  Led  by  the  Spirit  he  had  received,  he 
first  goes  into  the  wilderness  to  have  his 
own  faith  and  obedience  put  to  the  test ; 
I  and  when  he  had  been  taught  there  by  his 
i  own  experience,  what  this  Spirit  could  do 
for  the  suffering  and  tempted,  he  begins 
his  public  ministry  at  Nazareth  by  declar- 
ing the  qualifications  bestowed  on  him  for 
the  discharge  of  his  office.  "  Tlie  Spirit 
of  the  Lord,"  he  says,  "  is  upon  me,  be- 
cause he  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  the 
gospel  to  the  poor  ;  he  hath  sent  me  to  heal 
the  broken-hearted,  to  preach  deliverance 
to  the  captives,  and  recovering  of  sight  to 
the  blind  ;  to  set  at  liberty  them  that  are 
bruised." 

And  this  Spirit  abode  on  him.  Saint 
Matthew  informs  us  that  the  dove  '•  rest- 
ed," as  well  as  descended,  on  him  ;  and 
Saint  Luke  speaks  of  him  as  going  up  from 
the  river  into  the  wilderness,  "  full  of  the 
Holy  Ghost."  As  God,  he  possessed  the 
Spirit  before  ;  as  man  also,  he  had  been 
from  the  hour  of  his  birth  under  his  en- 
lightening and  upholding  influence  ;  but 
now  at  his  baptism,  he  comes  down  in  all 
his  fulness  on  him  as  the  Head  of  his 
church.  His  blessed  gifts  are  made  over 
to  him,  placed  at  his  disposal  ;  and  for  this 
purpose,  that  he  may  communicate  them 
to  whomsoever  he  will  ;  that  he  may  be 
able  and  authorized  to  baptize  his  people 
I  with  the  Holy  Ghost ;  that,  at  this  moment, 
I  we  ourselves  may  lift  up  an  imploring  heart 
I  to  him  as  he  sits  on  his  throne,  and  find 
1  light,  and  comfort,  and  strength,  enter  our 
.souls. 

4.  We  are  taught  also  here  the  high  es- 
timation in  which  the  anointed  Saviour  is 
held  hy  his  Father;  the  complacency  and 
delight  with  which  he  regards  him.  I  al- 
lude not  to  him  in  his  divine  nature,  as  he 
existed  before  he  trod  the  earth ;   for  this 


202 


THE  BAPTISM  OF  CHRIST. 


scripture  makes  perhaps  no  mention  of  him 
in  this  character.  It  exhibits  him  to  us  as 
one  like  unto  ourselves,  appearinoj  amono; 
sinners  in  a  sinner's  form;  and  tlien  it  bids 
us  look  on  the  opening  heavens,  it  bids  us 
listen  to  the  voice  that  says,  as  it  rends  the 
.skies,  to  this  lowly  Jesus,  "  Thou  art  my 
beloved  Son  ;  in  thee  I  am  well  pleased." 
God  is  well  pleased  with  his  people  ; 
"  he  taketh  pleasure,"  we  are  told,  "  in 
them  that  fear  him;"  he  speaks  of  them 
as  his  delight,  his  portion,  his  jewels,  his 
diadem,  his  glory  ;  and  he  does  and  says 
this  because  they  are  connected  with  his 
Son,  the  purchase  of  his  blood  and  the  re- 
deemed of  his  grace  ;  because  his  own  at- 
tributes and  excellences  are  reflected  in 
them.  What  then  must  be  his  joy  in  that 
Son  himself  ?  in  him  from  whom  his  peo- 
ple derive  all  in  them  that  is  glorious  ?  in 
him  who  is  the  great  manifestation  of  God 
to  his  wondering  creatures  ;  whom  he  him- 
self calls  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  "the  bright- 
ness of  his  glory,  and  the  express  image 
of  his  person  ?"  Much  joy  flows  sometimes 
from  the  poor  love  that  is  found  on  earth  ; 
more  still  from  the  love  of  heaven  ;  but 
what  must  that  joy  be  which  flows  into  the 
infinite  mind  of  Jehovah  from  such  love  as 
he  can  feel  to  such  a  Son  !  And  then  comes 
this  thought,  cheering  and  elevating  to  the 
Christian's  heart — A  portion  of  that  joy 
will  soon  be  mine.  My  God  will  one  day 
say  to  me,  "  Enter  thou  into  my  joy." 

From  a  review  of  this  history" we  learn, 
first,  the  importance  which  God  attaches  to 
his  oton  ordinances,  the  honor  he  puts  on 
them.  The  dwelling-place  of  Jehovah  is 
opened,  a  symbol  of  the  divine  majesty  be- 
comes visible  to  mortal  eyes,  tlie  Spirit 
descends  embodied  on  Christ,  a  voice  from 
the  throne  of  heaven  is  heard  on  earth  de- 
claring his  greatness  ;  and  when  ?  Not 
while  he  is  performing  his  wonderful  works ; 
treading  the  waters,  ruling  the  winds,  heal- 
ing the  sick,  or  raising  the  dead  ;  but  while 
he  is  baptized  in  Jordan  ;  while,  as  depen- 
dent and  needy,  he  is  looking  upward  in 
prayer. 

We  may  despise  ordinances,  brethren  ; 
we  may  make  light  of  sacraments ;  we  may 
live  and  we  may  die  without  ever  knowinc 
what  real  prayer  means ;  but  the  things 
that  we  contemn,  are  valued  in  heaven. 
lie  who  came  down  from  heaven,  lived  in 
the  practice  of  them.  All  the  external 
honor  he  ever  obtained  while  on  earth  from 


the  world  he  had  left,  they  procured  for 
him.  Never  by  power  or  by  might  did  he 
bring  it  down.  Thrice  the  voice  of  his  Fa- 
ther proclaimed  him  blessed,  but  it  was 
prayer  that  pierced  his  Father's  abode. 
Me  never  called  his  own  holy  Son  beloved, 
except  when  he  beheld  him  a  suppliant  at 
his  feet. 

We  see  here  also  the  insnjiciency  of  or- 
dinnnces.  Baptism,  though  administered 
by  a  prophet  and  received  by  Christ,  was 
powerless  ;  or  if  it  had  any  efficacy,  that 
efficacy  was  limited  ;  it  evidently  left  much 
undone.  It  could  not  touch  the  soul  of  Je- 
sus ;  it  did  not  qualify  him  for  his  media- 
torial wo]-k.  To  accomplish  these  ends, 
the  Holy  Ghost  comes  down  from  on  high, 
rests  and  abides  on  him. 

What  then  do  men  mean,  when  they  con- 
tend that  the  mere  sprinkling  of  water  can 
reach  our  earthly  minds  and  regenerate 
us  ?  What  then  do  some  of  you  mean  by 
looking  to  sacraments,  and  prayers,  and 
sermons,  for  acceptance  with  God  ?  Breth- 
ren, all  the  water  in  all  the  rivers  on  the 
earth,  consecrated  and  blessed  by  all  the 
prophets  and  ministers  the  earth  ever  bore, 
could  not  wash  away  from  your  souls  the 
stain  of  one  transgression  ;  it  could  not  sub- 
due within  your  hearts  one  evil  passion  ;  it 
could  not  implant  there  one  holy  thought. 
Experience  tells  us  how  weak  sermons  and 
sacraments  often  are.  The  emptiest  tale 
that  was  ever  told,  could  not  affect  us  less 
than  they  at  times  affect  some  of  us,  nor 
weary  us  more.  As  for  prayer,  it  is  om- 
nipotent ;  but  not  that  prayer  which  goes 
up  mingled  with  the  workings  of  self-suffi- 
ciency, which  looks  to  itself  for  its  power, 
and  depends  on  the  merit  that  offers  ir,  for 
its  reward.  The  same  Spirit  who  excites 
prayer,  must  give  prayer  its  efficacy.  It 
is  the  Spirit  accompanying  ordinances  and 
working  by  them,  that  makes  ordinances 
blessings.  Without  this  Spirit,  we  are  far 
away  from  the  light  of  God's  countenance; 
his  pure  mind  abhors  us.  With  this  Spirit 
subduing  and  cleansing  us,  we  are,  like  our 
great  Head,  the  beloved  and  delight  of  Je- 
hovah. He  esteems  us  the  noblest  work- 
manship of  his  hands.  He  rejoices  more 
in  one  sanctified  soul  than  in  any  other 
creature  in  the  wide  universe  he  has  built. 

We  may  infer  too,  from  this  transaction, 
the  importance  of  our  Lord's  atonciiunt.  As 
the  Tv(>pn'seMta"tive  and  Head  of  his  church 
111'  was  ]iui)ti/.ed  with  water;    in   the  same 


THE  UNBELIEF  OF  THOMAS. 


203 


character,  ho  was  anointed  witli  the  Spirit ; 
but  his  churcli  is  not  yet  redeemed,  scarce- 
ly a  step  has  been  taken  towards  its  re- 
demption. Much  more  nmst  be  endured 
and  accomplished  before  one  lost  soul  can 
be  rescued,  or  one  sin  forgiven.  There 
was  another  baptism  that  Christ  was  to  be 
baptized  with,  a  baptism  in  blood.  We 
were  not  redeemed  by  the  water  of  a  flow- 
ing river,  or  by  a  descending  Spirit ;  but 
'•  by  tlie  precious  blood  of  Christ,  as  of  a 
Lamb  without  blemish  and  without  spot." 

Brethren,  on  what  are  your  hopes  fixed  ? 
On  any  thing  done  by  you  or  wrought  with- 
in you  I  Then  ask  yourselves  why  a  bap- 
tized and  heaven-anointed  Jesus  died  at 
Jerusalem  ;  and  dash  your  hopes  to  the 
ground. 


SERMON    XXXVII. 

THE  UNBELIEF  OF  THO.ALVS. 

St.  John  xx.  26,  27,  28. 

And  after  eight  days  again  his  disciples  were 
within,  and  Thomas  with  them.  Then  came 
Jesus,  the  doors  being  shut,  and  stood  in  the 
midst,  and  said.  Peace  be  unto  you.  Then 
saiih  he  to  Thomas,  Reach  hither  thy  finger, 
and  behold  my  hands;  and  reach  hither  thy 
hand,  and  thrust  it  into  my  side  ;  and  be  not 
faithless,  but  believing.  And  Thomas  answer- 
ed and  said  unto  him,  My  Lord  and  my  God. 

In  the  latter  part  of  this  chapter,  we 
have  an  account  of  two  interviews  which 
took  place  between  our  Lord  and  hig  won- 
dering disciples,  after  his  resurrection  from 
the  dead.  At  the  first  of  these  interviews, 
Thomas,  one  of  the  twelve,  was  not  pres- 
ent ;  and  when  his  fellow-disciples  told  him 
afterwards  what  had  happened,  he  received 
the  tidiriL'^s  with  the  most  determined  unbe- 
lief. ".We  have  seen  the  Lord,"  was  their 
joyful  exclamation,  but  their  infatuated 
companion  gives  them  only  this  chilling  an- 
swer ;  ••  I'^xcept  I  shall  see  in  his  hands  the 
print  of  the  nails,  ami  put  my  finger  into 
the  print  of  the  nails,  and  thrust  my  hand 
into  his  side,  I  will  not  believe." 

Let  us  examine,  first,  the  causes  from 
which  this  strange  unbelief  proceeded  ; 
secondly,  the  manner  in  which  our  Lord 
treated  it  ;  and  then,  lastly,  the  remarka- 
ble confession  by  which  it  was  ultimately 
followed . 


I.  All  unbelief  is  of  the  heart,  and  when 
i  we  look  for  the  origin  of  it  on  any  particu- 
lar occasion,  we  must  trace  it  to  that  deeply 
'  seated  and  desperate  wickedness  within  us, 
;  which  taints  all  the  operations  of  our  minds ; 
i  which  allows  us  to  trust  one  another  often 
j  and  blindly,  but  never  God.  There  are 
i  however  secondary  causes  which  bring  this 
evil  principle  into  exercise,  or  serve  to 
manifest  it ;  and  these,  in  the  instance  be- 
fore us,  appear  to  have  been  two. 

1 .  One  of  them  was  the  absence  of  Thom- 
as from  Ike  assembly  of  his  fellow-Chrisliaris. 

In  the  nineteenth  verse  of  the  chapter, 
we  find  the  other  apostles  meeting  together 
on  the  evening  of  the  first  day  of  the  week 
after  their  Master's  crucifixion.  Their 
object,  it  is  natural  to  suppose,  was  of  a 
spiritual  nature — to  talk  of  the  marvellous 
events  they  had  witnessed,  and  to  join  in 
supplication  and  prayer.  They  closed  the 
door,  it  is  .said,  "  for  fear  of  the  Jews  ;"  but 
what  are  bars  and  difficulties  in  the  way 
of  Christ,  when  he  has  a  promise  to  ful- 
fil, or  an  act  of  grace  to  perform  ?  He 
told  them  before  he  left  theni,  that  where 
only  "  two  or  three"  of  them  should  "  be 
gathered  together  in  his  name,"  he  would 
be  "  in  the  midst"  of  them,  and  now  he 
comes  and  makes  good  liis  word.  On  a 
sudden  he  appears  before  them  in  the  very 
form  in  which  he  died.  He  stands  "  in  the 
midst,"  and  saith  unto  them,  "  Peace  be 
unto  you."  And  peace  followed  his  words, 
a  peace  that  almost  turned  the  room  in 
which  they  were  sitting,  into  a  heaven. 
"  Then,"  we  read,  "  were  the  disciples 
glad,  when  they  saw  the  Lord."  But 
from  this  scene  of  blessedness  Thomas  was 
absent ;  why,  we  know  not.  Ilinderances 
that  he  could  not  break  through,  might  have 
kept  him  away,  or,  more  prol)ably,  he  had 
suiTered  wrong  feelings  to  discourage,  or 
worldly  business  to  entangle  him.  In 
either  case,  the  effect  of  his  absence  was 
the  same — he  saw  not  the  Lord.  No  peace 
entered  his  soul.  While  his  fellow-disci- 
ples were  rejoicing  in  all  the  confidence  of 
certainty,  he  was  harassed  with  the  dark 
workings  of  perplexity  and  unbelief. 

And  whence,  brethren,  proceed  many  of 
your  doubts  ?  And  whence  comes  much 
of  that  darkness  which  so  often  beclouds 
your  souls  ?  Has  your  undervaluing  of 
Christian  communion  and  fellowship  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it  ?  Look  at  this  history. 
It  teaches  us  that  we  can  never  tell  what 


204 


THE  UNBELIEF  OF  THOMAS. 


we  lose  by  neglecting  even  one  opportunity 
of  public  or  social  prayer.  At  the  sacra- 
ment from  which  we  have  turned  away,  the 
Lord  might  ha\e  made  himself  known  to 
us  "  in  the  breaking  of  bread."  The  ser- 
mon we  have  lost,  might  have  been  the 
very  sermon  we  needed.  It  might  have 
quickened  us  in  our  deadness,  scattered  the 
doubts  which  are  perplexing  us,  or  chased 
aw^ay  the  sorrows  which  are  bowing  us 
down,  or  let  in  light  on  that  darkness  within 
us,  which,  we  say,  nothing  can  pierce. 
The  Saviour  will  honor  the  ordinances  of 
his  own  appointment.  It  is  in  the  palaces 
of  Zion  that  he  makes  himself  "  known  for 
a  refuge."  It  is  in  his  house,  that  he  most 
frequently  and  most  conspicuously  records 
his  name,  reveals  "  his  power  and  his  glo- 
ry," and  comes  and  blesses.  The  man 
therefore  who  most  loves  his  house,  gen- 
erally sees  the  most  of  his  glory  ;  gets  the 
clearest  and  most  enlarged  view  of  his 
perfections  ;  knows  him  best,  and  conse- 
':[uently  trusts  him  most ;  and  trusting  him 
most,  rejoices  in  him  most ;  has  the  peace 
of  God  for  his  safeguard,  and  the  joy  of 
the  Lord  for  his  strength. 

2.  But  the  unbelief  of  Thomas  must  be 
traced  to  another  cause — he  sexfns  to  have 
adopted  on  this  occasion  a  wrong  standard 
of  truth. 

His  fellow-disciples  told  him  they  had 
seen  the  Lord  ;  he  refused  to  believe  them, 
not  because  he  doubted  their  veracity,  for 
they  had  been  for  three  years  his  com- 
panions, and  he  knew  them,  in  a  matter  of 
such  moment,  to  be  incapable  of  falsehood  ; 
but  he  liad  not  seen  the  Saviour  himself, 
and  therefore  all  he  hears  must  pass  for 
mistake  or  delusion.  He  must  look  on  his 
wounded  hands  and  feet,  he  must  touch  his 
pierced  side,  or  he  will  not  believe.  He 
made  his  senses,  in  this  instance,  the  exclu- 
sive criterion  of  truth,  and  consequently  he 
rejected  the  evidence  of  ten  upright  wit- 
nesses, simply  because  he  himself  had  not 
been  a  spectator  of  the  fact  to  which  they 
testified. 

And  this  was  little  worse  than  the  con- 
duct thousands  are  pursuing  in  this  Chris- 
tian land  at  this  hour.  To  say  nothing 
of  the  avowed  skeptic,  some  of  us  judge 
of  spiritual  things  by  standards  to  which 
they  disdain  to  be  brought.  Wo  may 
not  carry  them,  with  Thomas,  to  the  bar 
of  our  senses,  but  we  try  them  by  tests 
quite  as  foreign  to  their  nature,  and  equally 


fallacious — our  experience,  our  reason,  our 
notions  of  right  and  wrong,  our  view  of 
probabilities,  our  conceptions  of  the  fitness 
of  things.  We  will  not  believe  this  or  thai 
alleged  fact  ;  we  will  not  receive  this  or 
that  doctrine  ;  we  cannot  take  the  comfort 
of  this  or  that  promise  ;  and  why  not  ? 
Because  it  is  not  found  in  the  Bible  ?  We 
say  so  perhaps,  but  while  we  say  so,  con- 
science reproves  us.  It  is  in  the  Bible, 
and  we  know  it  to  be  there  ;  but  then  it 
appears  to  us  so  strange,  it  is  so  contrary 
to  our  experience,  it  militates  so  strongly 
against  our  judgment  or  feelings,  that  we 
ask  with  Nicodemus,  "  How  can  these 
things  be  ?"  and  then,  unlike  Nicodemus, 
we  persuade  ourselves  that  they  cannot  be, 
and  reject  them.  Thus  do  we  make  our 
own  depraved  understandings  the  criterion 
of  truth  ;  thus  do  we  set  up  the  experience 
of  a  few  fleeting  years  against  the  declara. 
tions  of  him  "  who  inhabiteth  eternity." 
We  employ  the  reason  God  has  given  us, 
against  God  ;  we  employ  it  against  our- 
selves. It  sei'ves  only  to  rivet  our  unbelief 
and  aggravate  our  misery.  Subdue  the 
intellect  of  man,  communicate  to  it  a  sense 
of  its  own  weakness  and  the  divine  gran- 
deur, bring  its  thoughts  into  a  holy  '•  cap- 
tivity to  the  obedience  of  Christ,"  and  then 
we  may  glory  in  it ;  we  need  not  limit  its 
powers,  nor  control  its  workings,  nor  check 
its  inquiries  ;  but  elevate  it  against  God, 
set  it  to  work  to  scan  him,  and  his  ways, 
and  his  word,  by  its  own  efforts  in  its  own 
light — is  there  any  thing  in  the  universe  so 
powerless,  so  contemptible  1  is  there  any 
thing  of  which  we  have  greater  reason  to 
be  ashamed  ? 

Brethren,  is  the  Bible  true  ?  Is  it  wliat 
it  professeis  to  be,  a  revelation  from  heaven  ? 
Here  is  a  lawful  subject  of  inquiry  ;  here 
is  a  question  which  reason  may  investigate 
and  common  sense  decide  ;  but  at  this  point 
we  must  stop.  If  the  book  is  divine,  a 
wise  man  has  only  one  way  of  acting — he 
must  receive  as  true  all  its  contents.  He 
is  not  to  judge,  but  believe  ;  not  to  specu- 
late as  to  the  reasonableness  of  its  decla- 
rations, or  their  correspondence  with  his 
experience  or  notions,  but  to  pray  that  they 
may  live  in  his  heart  and  regulate  his  life. 
They  are  the  words  of  the  living  God  ;  they 
rest  on  tiie  testimony  of  One  wjio  can  neither 
deceive  nor  be  deceived  ;  and  what  mat- 
ters it  whether  my  dark  mind  approves  or 
c()nd(>mus  tlicm  ?     Lord,  open  tliou  my  un- 


THE  UNBELIEF  OF  THOMAS. 


205 


derstanding  to  comprehend  them,  and  give 
me  grace  to  believe  them. 

II.  Consider  now  the  manner  in  ichich  our 
Lord  treated  the  unbelief  we  are  examin- 
ing. 

1.  And  liere  observe,  that  he  gently  pun- 
ished it.  He  leaves  Thomas  for  eight  days 
rucked  with  suspense,  and  tiien  he  records 
his  sin  in  his  imperishable  word ;  to  this 
very  day  it  is  spoken  of  to  his  shame. 

And  he  acts  thus  with  all  his  people  at 
all  times.  lie  makes  their  sin  their  pun- 
ishment. He  knows  how  to  pardon  it ;  as 
far  as  regards  an  eternal  world,  to  blot  it 
as  entirely  out  as  though  it  had  never  been 
committed  ;  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  he 
marks  it  with  his  displeasure.  He  shows 
himself  at  once  a  gracious  and  a  holy  God, 
"  pardoning  iniquity,  transgression,  and 
sin,"  but  making  his  people  feel,  and  mak- 
ing the  world  see,  that  he  hates  while  he 
pardons  it.  "  I  will  visit  their  transgres- 
sion with  the  rod,  and  their  iniquity  with 
stripes,"  is  no  idle  threatening.  There  is 
scarcely  one  in  the  church  of  Christ,  who 
has  not  experienced  its  truth  ;  who  has  not 
learned  that  even  with  heaven  before  him, 
and  goodness  and  mercy  following  him,  it 
is  yet  "  an  evil  thing  and  bitter"  to  forsake 
the  Lord. 

2.  But  though  Christ  punished  the  un- 
belief of  Thomas,  he  most  tenderly  re- 
moved it. 

At  the  end  of  eight  days  he  appears 
again  among  his  disciples.  Thomas  is  now 
with  them.  As  soon  as  he  had  repeated 
his  former  salutation,  "  Peace  be  unto  you," 
he  singles  out  this  erring  man ;  lets  him 
know  by  the  first  words  he  utters,  that  he 
was  well  acquainted  with  his  unbelief;  and 
then  acts  just  as  Thomas  had  prescribed  ; 
he  gives  him  the  very  evidence  his  pre- 
sumption had  dictated.  "  Except,"  says 
Thomas,  "  I  shall  see  in  his  hands  the 
print  of  the  nails,  and  put  my  finger  into 
the  print  of  the  nails,  and  thrust  my  hand 
into  his  side,  I  will  not  believe."  And 
what  said  Jesus  ?  "  Reach  hither  thy  fin- 
ger, and  behold  my  hands ;  and  reach 
hither  thy  hand  and  thrust  it  into  my 
side." 

And  mark  the  contrast  between  the  con- 
duct of  our  Lord  towards  this  unbelieving 
disciple,  and  that  which  he  manifested  a 
few  days  before  towards  the  faithful  Mary. 
In  the  I)eginning  of  this  chapter,  we  see 
her  coming,  full  of  grief  and  love,  to  his 


sepulchre.  She  finds  it  empty  ;  her  Lord 
had  left  it.  One  disciple  after  another 
comes  to  it,  looks  into  it,  sees  it  forsaken, 
and  goes  away.  But  Maiy  goes  not  awav  ; 
she  still  .stands  atthesepiilchre,  wondering, 
and  inquiring,  and  weeping.  Angels  come 
down  irom  heaven  to  comfort  her,  but  even 
angels  are  nothing  to  her.  She  does  not 
so  much  as  ask  them  their  errand  ;  nay, 
she  hardly  notices  their  preseiice.  "  They 
have  taken  away  my  Loril,"  she  cries, 
"  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid 
him."  For  any  thing  save  him,  she  has 
not  a  feeling  or  a  thought.  And  wlio  ever 
thus  thirsted  for  Christ,  and  Ci)rist  did  not 
come  to  that  earnest  seeker  ?  This  an- 
swer brought  him  to  Mary  ;  she  sees  and 
recognises  him.  The  next  moment,  as 
Saint  Matthew  intimates,  she  falls  at  his 
feet,  and,  in  the  deep  emotion  of  her  soul, 
clasps  him  in  her  arms.  And  now  surely 
we  shall  find  the  Saviour  commending  af- 
fection like  this,  half  meeting  such  love. 
No,  brethren  ;  the  very  same  Jesus  that 
said  to  the  unbelieving  Thomas,  "  Thrust 
thy  hand  into  my  side,"  repulses  the  be- 
loved Mary  from  him.  He  says  to  her, 
"  Touch  me  not,"  and  the  next  moment 
sends  her  out  of  his  presence.  And  why 
this  difference  ?  To  show  the  strong  in 
faith  how  much  he  values  active  service 
above  mere  feeling ;  to  show  the  weak  in 
faith  how  low  he  can  stoop  to  their  infirmi- 
ties.  Mary  needed  not  any  further  evi- 
dence;  she  is  therefore  denied  it.  Thomas 
asked  for  it,  he  seemed  to  need  it ;  it  is 
therefore  offered  him. 

And  where  is  the  weak-hearted  Christian, 
who  has  not  experienced  something  of  this 
divine  compassion?  We  are  tempted  at 
seasons  to  distrust  the  loving-kindness  of 
the  Lord.  The  circumstances  in  which 
we  are  placed,  are  peculiarly  trying. 
They  depress  and  perhaps  weaken  the 
mind,  so  that  reason  or  principle  has  but 
little  hold  on  it;  we  seem  incapable  of  any 
spiritual  feeling  or  act.  Faith  gives  way. 
The  promise  becomes  a  dead  letter.  The 
Bible,  that  was  wont  to  be  to  us  cheering 
as  the  light  of  heaven,  has  lost  its  power. 
All  is  darkness.  We  accordingly  say,  in 
the  heaviness  of  our  hearts,  "  All  these 
things  are  against  us."  We  conclude  that 
the  Lord  has  "  forgotten  to  be  gracious  ;" 
that  he  has  cast  us  off"  for  ever.  But  no. 
In  the  midst  of  our  mournful  distrust,  he 
condescends  to  our  fears.     He  meets  us  as 


200 


THE  UNBELIEF  OF  THOMAS. 


he  mel  Tliomas,  on  our  own  terms,  in  our 
own  way.  He  gives  us  some  sensible  token 
o{"  his  presence'  and  favor.  He  sends  us  a 
signal  mercy,  and  sends  it  in  such  a  way, 
that  we  cannot  mistake  its  source  or  its 
character.  He  says,  '•  Thrust  thy  hand 
into  my  side."  And  then,  brethren,  wlio 
so  blessed  as  we  ?  He  makes  us  wonder 
at  his  condescension.  We  know  not  how 
to  believe  that^  a  God  so  highly  exalted, 
should  stoop  down  to  observe  the  weakness 
and  remove  the  suspicions  of  creatures  so 
low.  His  tenderness  seems  too  great  to 
be  real.     We  tremble  as  we  rejoice  in  it. 

3.  Bui  the  Saviour  did  more — he  wisely 
overruled  the  unbelief  of  Thomas  for  his  own 
honor  mid  the  good  of  his  church. 

He  caused  it  to  magnify  himself.  It 
drew  from  him  a  fresh  exhibition  of  his 
forbearance  and  tenderness.  It  proves 
him  to  have  brought  with  him  from  the 
guave  the  same  heart  that  he  carried  about 
with  him  in  the  scenes  of  his  humiliation. 
It  tells  us  that  he  is  the  same  on  his  throne, 
as  wiien  lie  stooped  down  to  wash  the  feet 
of  his  disciples,  or  wept  at  the  tomb  of 
Lazarus  his  friend. 

Besides,  the  incredulity  of  this  apostle 
has  done  much  to  establish  the  fact  which 
it  at  first  impugned.  We  see  at  once 
that  the  men  by  whom  our  Lord  had  sur- 
rounded himself,  were  not  men  of  easy 
credence  ;  men  who,  without  examination, 
would  receive  as  true  any  tale  that  corre- 
sponded with  their  wishes.  If  they  were 
weak  men,  their  weakness  manifested  itself 
in  the  backwardness  with  which  they 
yielded  to  the  force  of  evidence,  in  the 
obstinacy  with  which  they  adhered  to  pre- 
conceived opinions,  in  the  pertinacity  with 
which  they  lield  the  ground  they  had  once 
taken.  It  was  weakness  which  opposed 
itself  to  any  thing  new  and  unexpected,  and 
almost  deemed  itself  humbled,  when  forced 
to  admit  as  a  fact  that  which  tallied  not 
with  its  own  experience  and  knowledge. 
"  I  will  not  believe,"  said  Thomas.  With 
the  testimony  of  ten  honest,  well  known 
men  before  him,  he  could  not  have  uttered 
a  more  unreasonable  speech  ;  and  when 
he  went  on  to  mention  the  kind  of  evidence 
which  would  satisfy  him,  he  could  not 
have  made  a  more  absurd  demand.  But 
after  a  few  days  had  transpired,  this  very 
Thomas  was  satisfied.  And  when  a  few 
days  more  were  gone,  he  was  standing 
forth  an\ong  the  other  disciples  in  the  streets 


of  Jerusalem,  a  voluntary  witness  of  the 
fact  he  had  questioned,  and  ready  to  shed 
his  heart's  blood  in  confirmation  of  its  truth. 
His  testimony  to  the  resurrection  of  his 
Lord  was  the  triumph  of  evidence  over 
obstinacy,  the  homage  which  truth  extorts 
from  incredulity  and  pride.  Thus  does 
he  who  "ruleth  in  heaven,"  force  all  things 
to  serve  him.  Thus  does  he  compel  the 
very  errors  of  his  servants  to  do  him 
honor  and  further  his  purposes  of  grace  ; 
not  altering  the  nature  of  evil,  not  conceal- 
ing his  abhorrence  of  it,  not  lessening  its 
fearfulness,  not  suffering  his  creatures  to 
make  light  of  it,  but  yet  employing  it  to 
display  the  glory  of  his  character  and  the 
lustre  of  his  perfections.  Sin — we  can 
never  too  much  hate  and  detest  it ;  never 
be  too  much  afraid  of  it ;  but  what  does 
the  great  God  do  with  it  ?  He  finds  it  in 
his  church,  and  he  means  to  root  it  out  of 
his  church,  to  destroy  it  utterly  ;  but  before 
it  perishes,  he  makes  it  show  forth  his  holi- 
ness and  goodness,  the  authority  of  his  law 
and  the  glory  of  his  grace  ;  and  so  show 
them  forth,  as  nothing  else  ever  exliibited 
them,  as  all  the  purity  and  all  the  happi- 
ness of  heaven  never  displayed  tiiem. 
The  foundation  of  the  cross,  the  ground  it 
stands  on,  is  sin,  the  sin  of  man — sin  not 
trifled  with,  nor  encouraged,  nor  winked 
at,  but  abhorred,  and  branded,  and  then 
pardoned,  and  so  pardoned,  that  the  loudest 
song  in  heaven  is  that  which  speaks  of 
salvation  and  pardon.  We  may  safely 
trust  God.  He  is  on  his  throne ;  and 
while  there,  all  the  creatures  that  his 
hands  have  formed,  in  all  their  actions, 
shall  either  willingly  or  unwillingly  do 
him  homage. 

III.  But  we  shall  see  this  truth  in  a 
yet  stronger  light,  if  we  proceed  to  con- 
sider ihe  remarkable  confession  bij  which 
the  unbelief  of  the  apostle  fras  eventually 
followed. 

And  we  are  indebted  to  this  unlielicf  for 
this  confession.  Not  that  it  had  its  origin 
in  it,  but  it  would  not  have  been  uttered, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  sin  by  which  it  was 
preceded.  The  Saviour  first  punishes  his 
offending  servant — there  is  his  holiness  ; 
then  comes  his  wisdom — he  so  corrects  and 
overrules  his  error,  that  it  leads  to  one  of 
the  plainest  and  strongest  declarations  of 
iiis  greatness,  that  ever  came  from  earthly 
lips.  This  faithless  apostle  rises  in  one 
instant    above    himself.       *'  Reach    hither 


THE  UNBELIEF  OF  THOMAS. 


207 


thy  finger,"  says  liis  once  buried  Master 
to  him,  '■  ant!  behold  my  hands  ;  and  reach 
liilher  thy  hand,  and  thrust  it  into  my  side." 
And  what  follows  ?  Do  we  .see  Thomas 
stretching  forth  his  arm,  and  availing 
himself  of  this  condescension  ?  He  could 
not  do  it.  He  at  on^e  acknowledges  and 
adores  his  Lord.  And  what  does  he  say  ? 
Does  he  rest  satisfied  with  an  open  avowal 
of  his  resurrection  ?  No  ;  he  carries  his 
confession  of  him  beyond  the  other  apostles. 
He  sees  in  that  risen  man,  the  Lord  of  the 
universe  ;  in  that  condescending  Jesus,  the 
God  who  made  him  ;  in  that  once  pierced 
and  crucified  Nazarene,  the  eternal  Jehovah. 
Thrilling  with  the  profoundest  immility  and 
awe.  htt  exclaims,  ''  My  Lord  and  my  God." 

And  how  did  his  Master  receive  this 
declaration  ?  It  ascribed  to  him  nothing 
less  tlian  divinity.  Now  when  divinity 
was  'ascribed  to  Paul  and  Barnabas  at 
Lystra,  tliey  "  rent  their  clothes,  and  ran 
in  among  the  people,  crying  out"  that  they 
were  '•  men  of  like  passions"  with  them- 
si-lves.  And  twice  in  the  Revelation  of 
Saint  John,  we  find  an  incident  of  the  same 
kind  taking  place  in  heaven.  Overpowered 
by  the  splendor  of  the  angel  who  talked 
with  him,  John  falls  at  his  feet  to  worship 
iiim  ;  but  the  angel  at  once  rejects  the 
worship.  -'See  thou  do  it  not,"  he  says, 
"  for  I  am  thy  fellow-servant.  Worship 
God."  But  mark  the  contrast.  Thomas 
addresses  the  risen  Jesus  as  God  ;  and  he, 
instead  of  reproving  and  silencing  him, 
accepts  the  homage  ;  he  receives  the  title 
without  a  single  expression  of  displeasure 
or  surprise,  precisely  as  though  nothing 
beyond  the  truth,  nothing  even  unusual, 
had  reached  his  ears.  How  can  this  infer- 
ence then  be  resisted,  that  he  who  is  the 
man  Christ  Jesus,  is,  at  the  same  time, 
"  God  over  all,  blessed  for  ever ;"  equal 
to  the  etgrnal  Father  and  Spirit  in  glory 
and  greatness ;  an  object  of  adoration, 
worship,  and  praise  ? 

I  know,  brethren,  what  they  urge  against 
this  inference,  who  deny  the  Godhead  of 
the  Saviour;  but  really  their  answer  is  so 
strange,  that  none  but  those  men  could 
urge  it  or  think  of  it.  Tiiey  represent  the 
language  of  Thomas,  not  as  a  confession, 
but  as  an  exclamation,  the  natural  lan- 
guage of  sudden  surprise.  But  when  on 
any  other  occasion  did  surprise  produce 
such  an  ciT'i-t  as  this  in  Christ's  presence  ? 
He  would  not  have  hnvui  it.      It  would  have 


been    profaneness.     Besidis,    the    account 
says    that    the    words    were    addressed    to 
Christ  ;  that   his  startled   disciple  did    not 
exclaim  about  him,  but  directed   what  he 
said  to  him.      "  Be  not  faithless  but  believ- 
ing," says   the   Saviour.      "And   Thomas 
answered  and  said  unto  him.  My  Lord  and 
my  God."     And  again — if  we  regard  the 
words  as  an  unmeaning  exclamation,  how 
do    we    connect   with    them  the   language 
that    follows  ?     "  Thomas,"    says    Clirist, 
"  because   thou  hast  seen   me,   thou    hast 
believed."     Where  is  the  evidence  of  his 
belief?     According  to  this  strange  view  of 
the  passage,  there  is  none  ;  all  is  abrupt, 
unnatural,    and    strange.       And    just    as 
strange   is  that  boasted  faith   in  the   Bible, 
which  rejects  the  divinity  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 
There  is  no  harmony  or  consistency  in  it. 
It  is  so  different  from  the  usual  operations 
of  the  human  mind,  so  unlike  everything 
else    which    we    are    accustomed    to   call 
belief,  departing  so  widely   fron)  all   ordi- 
nary modes  of  interpreting  language  and 
receiving  ideas,  that  we  try  in  vain  to  com- 
prehend its  nature  or  define  its  extent.     It 
puzzles  us  as  much,  as  though  we   were 
told  of  sight  that  could  di.scern  every  thing 
in  the  creation  save  the  glorious  sun,  or  of 
love  that  could  do  every  thing  but  think  of, 
and   cherish,  and   delight  in,  the  object  it 
adores.     Let   others    explain    and   defend 
such  a  faith  ;  our  peace  of  mind,  and  our 
blessedness  also,  lie  in  something  directly 
opposed  to  it ;  in  a  faith  which  views  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  as  seated  on  a  throne  lofty  as 
the  right  hand  of  Jehovah  ;  which  compels 
us  to  feel,  while  we  worship  him  as  "  God 
over  all,"  that  we   have   hardly  one  ade- 
quate conception  of  his  greatness  ;  which 
makes  us  consider  the  very  dust  at  his  feet 
as  too  honorable  a  place   for  us,  and  yet 
fills  the  soul  with  an   unutterable  desire  to 
go   where  he   is,   that  it   may   behold  his 
glory.     High  thoughts  of  Christ  constitute 
the  very   essence  of  a  sinner's   religion  ; 
they  are  the  foundation  of  his  hopes  and 
the  materials  of  his  happiness.     The  glory 
of  the  Saviour,  his  eternity,  his   Godhead, 
are  not  mere  matters  of  speculation,  points 
which  affect  the  understanding  only,  they 
reach  the  heart  ;  they  are  the  main  springs 
of  all  that  a  real  Christian  feels,  and  hopes, 
and  does,  and  enjoys.     Take  them  away 
from  him,  and  his  religion  goes  with  them. 
His   exp-^rtations    perish.     You    have  left 
him  nolliing  that  helps  him.      The   man  is 


THE  REDEEMED  SINNER  A  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


again  a  benighted  wanderer,  witliout  a 
home  or  a  refuge.  But  what  is  he  with 
them  ?  What  is  he  when  a  sense  of  his 
Redeemer's  greatness  is  filling  his  soul  ? 
What  these  eleven  disciples  were  when 
they  saw  their  Lord,  what  he  would  wish 
all  the  world  to  be — glad  and  happy ;  not 
at  rest  in  the  earth,  but  content  and  peaceful 
in  it,  and  sure  of  all  he  desires  when  he 
leaves  it ;  a  cheerful  pilgrim  on  his  way 
to  a  blessed  home. 

And  his  happiness  flows,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, from  the  connection  that  exists  be- 
tween this  glorious  Being  and  himself,  or 
rather  from  his  knowledge  of  this  connec- 
tion. Thomas  does  not  acknowledge  the 
divinity  of  Christ  as  the  worshippers  of 
Baal  acknowledged  the  supremacy  of  Jeho- 
vah ;  "  The  Lord,  he  is  the  Gfod ;  the  Lord, 
he  is  the  God."  He  speaks  the  language 
of  appropriation,  of  affection  and  confidence. 
Encouraged  as  much  by  his  Master's  con- 
descehsion,  as  awed  by  his  greatness,  he 
says  in  the  overflowing  of  his  rejoicing 
heart,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God." 

Is  your  faith,  brethren,  of  this  kind  ? 
Does  it  rise  up  to  the  confidence  which  lan- 
guage like  this  implies  ?  If  not,  the  great- 
ness of  Christ,  the  majesty  of  his  person,  the 
splendor  of  his  perfections,  the  glory  of  his 
power,  will  afford  you  no  pleasure  in  the 
contemplation  of  them,  will  yield  little  or 
none  of  that  delight  which  they  communi- 
cate to  the  established  soul.  No  wonder  if 
at  times  they  distress  you.  But  when  we 
are  enabled  to  say  of  him,  "  My  Lord  and 
my  God  ;"  when  the  soul,  in  conscious 
guilt  and  helplessness,  throws  itself  on  hjs 
mercy;  when  it  feels  itself  in  his  care  and 
keeping  ;  when  it  hears  him  saying  to  it, 
"Thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee;  I  am  thine;" 
then,  brethren,  the  soul  rejoices  in  its  Re- 
deemer's greatness,  exults  in  his  power, 
glories  in  his  loftiness.  In  his  elevation,  it 
sees  a  pledge  of  its  own,  a  warrant  for  the 
most  aspiring  hopes  that  the  happiest  mind 
in  its  happiest  state  ever  formed,  and  an 
object  of  contemplation  that  can  forever 
expand,  while  it  delights,  its  thoughts.  If 
this  God  is  my  God,  it  says,  what  can  I 
want  ?  I  iiave  all  the  plenitude  of  his 
grace  and  goodness  to  bless  me.  Every 
perfection  that  constitutes  his  glory,  is  ex- 
ercised for  my  welfare,  is  on  the  stretch  for 
my  happiness.  And  what  a  prospect  be- 
fore me  !  His  kingdom  is  mine,  his  joy  is 
mine,  his  very  likeness  is  mine. 


But  O  if  this  Saviour,  this  Lord  and  this 
God,  is  not  yours  ;  if  among  the  objects, 
you  have  sought,  and  loved,  and  rejoiced 
in,  he  has  had  no  place  ;  how  wretched, 
how  fearful,  is  your  condition  !  It  is  wretch- 
ed and  fearful  now,  but  what  will  it  be 
soon  ?  To  look  on  the  blessed  Jesus  seated 
in  his  once  despised  form  on  the  throne  of 
his  glory ;  to  behold  in  his  sacred  body  the 
marks  of  his  dying  love  ;  to  gaze  on  his 
pierced  hands,  and  bruised  feet,  and  wound- 
ed side  ;  to  see  thousands  of  your  fellow- 
sinners  exulting  in  his  presence,  sharing  his 
triumph,  and  making  the-  everlasting  heav- 
ens ring  with  the  sounds,  "  This  God  is 
our  God  forever  and  ever;"  while  you, 
banished  to  an  awful  distance  from  him, 
are  constrained  to  feel  that  this  God  is  not 
your  God,  nor  will  nor  can  be  yours  for- 
ever and  ever  ;  there  is  sorriething  tremen- 
dous in  this  prospect.  But  tremendous  as 
it  is,  it  will  soon  cease  to  be  a  prospect ;  it 
will  be  a  reality.  The  heavens  above  your 
heads  will  soon  be  rent ;  the  Son  of  man 
will  come  in  his  glory ;  you  will  stand  in 
the  brightness  of  his  presence  at  his  bar. 
It  is  madness  to  forget  this  scene  of  terrors. 
We  are  more  to  be  pitied  than  the  wildest 
madman,  if  we  delay  for  a  single  hour  to 
prepare  to  meet  it.  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
is  still  "waiting  to  be  gracious."  He  is 
still  a  Saviour;  as  tender-hearted  now,  as 
when  he  first  rose  from  the  dead  ;  as  will- 
ing a  Saviour,  as  when  he  lay  down  in  the 
manger  or  stretched  out  his  arm  on  the 
cross.  Take  bim  as  your  Saviour.  Em- 
brace his  promises,  and  he  is  yours. 


SERMON    XXXVIII. 

THE  REDEEMED  SINNER  A  TEMPLE  OF 
GOD. 

1  Corinthians  vi.  19,  20. 

What  7  know  ye  not  that  your  body  is  the  temple 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  which  is  in  you,  which  ye 
have  of  God  ?  and  ye  are  not  your  own,  for  ye 
are  bought  with  a  price  ;  therefore  glorify  God 
in  your  body  and  in  your  spirit  which  are  God's. 

We  hardly  know  which  to  admire  most 
in  this  exhortation,  the  strength  or  the  gran- 
deur with  which  it  is  enforced.  It  makes 
duty  appear  so  reasonable,  that  wc  feel  at 


THE  REDEEMED  SINNER  A  TE.Ml'LE  OF  (iOD. 


209 


once  condemned  if  we  shrink  from  it ;  and 
yet  wliere  in  the  whole  Bible  can  be  found 
a  loftier  (lescrijition  of  the  Christian's  bless- 
edness ?  And  this  is  Saint  Paul's  usual 
manner.  He  connects  with  the  duty  he 
inculcates  some  exalted  privilege,  and  thus 
ennobles  the  service  to  which  he  calls  us ; 
causing  us,  when  in  our  right  mind,  to  glory 
in  our  work  while  wc  arc  performing  it. 
Here  he  tells  us,  first,  whose  the  Christian 
is — he  is  God's  ;  secondly,  how  he  became 
God's — he  has  been  "  bought  with  a  price ;" 
thirdly,  what  God  makes  him — "  the  tem- 
ple of  the  Holy  Ghost;"  and  then,  lastly, 
what  (jod  expects  from  him — glory. 

I.  Before  the  apostle  tells  us  xolwse  we 
arc,  he  states  a  fact  which  makes  it  evident 
that  wc  must  have  some  master.  He  says, 
'•  Ye  are  not  your  own ;"  and  in  saying 
this,  he  seems  to  have  in  his  mind  the  two 
classes  of  men,  of  which  the  Corinthian 
population  was  composed.  These  were 
freemen  and  slaves  ;  and  by  slaves,  I  mean 
a  class  of  servants  happily  unknown  in  our 
own  free  country — men  who  were  the  abso- 
lute property  of  their  masters.  "  Now  you," 
he  says,  "  are  not  freemen.  You  are  not 
your  own.  You  arc  not  the  proprietors  of 
your  own  persons,  nor  the  masters  of  your 
own  actions.  You  arc  altogether  at  the 
disposal  of  another.     You  are  bondmen." 

And  this  is  no  mere  figure  of  speech.  It 
it  as  strictly  and  extensively  true,  and  true 
of  us,  as  that  we  are  living  men.  I  know 
that  if  we  look  around  us,  it  does  not  appear 
true  ;  few  indeed  are  the  traces  to  be  dis- 
covered of  this  fact  in  the  world  ;  but  what 
is  the  world  ?  It  is  a  land  of  disorder  and 
misrule  ;  a  world,  not  only  of  sheep  wander- 
ing from  the  fold,  of  children  a  great  way 
oltfrom  tlieir  Father's  house — it  is  a  world 
of  rebels,  of  fugitives,  servants  who  cannot 
exist  unless  they  eat  of  their  Master's  bread, 
and  yet  are  determined  neither  to  do  their 
Master's  work  nor  obey  his  laws.  Free- 
dom, independence ! — it  is  the  boast  of  earth, 
the  pride  of  man  ;  but  go  into  heaven,  go 
into  any  world  that  is  a  happy  world,  and 
the  very  sound  of  it  would  dismay.  The 
creature's  real  glory  and  happiness  consist 
in  the  creature's  willing  dependence  on  the 
God  Vvho  made  him.  And  this  the  Chris- 
tian feels.  While  others  are  proudly  ask- 
ing who  is  lord  over  them,  spurning  in  their 
actions  all  heavenly  control,  and  often  in- 
dignant at  the  human  laws  that  bind  them, 
ho  recognises  and  owns  the  right  of  another 
27 


to  him.  He  knows  himsr»lf  to  be  God's  ; 
more  than  his  servant — his  property  ;  and 
not  as  our  children  or  servants  may  be  said 
to  be  our  property,  but  in  a  stricter  sense. 
He  stands  in  the  same  relation  to  his  Mas- 
ter in  heaven,  as  that  in  which  a  Greek  ser- 
vant stood  to  his  earthly  lord.  He  is  de- 
pendent on  him,  at  his  disposal,  so  com- 
pletely under  his  authority  and  within  his 
power,  that  he  is  spoken  of  by  the  Holy 
Ghost  as  living  every  moment  "  under  his 
mighty  hand." 

And  the  apostle  extends  the  right  of  God 
to  the  whole  man.  We  should  have  said, 
"  It  is  folly  to  write  his  blessed  name  on 
these  earthly  frames  of  ours,  these  bodies 
of  dust.  Give  God  the  heaven-born  soul ; 
but  this  thing  of  weakness  and  degradation, 
this  inlet  to  the  soul's  misery,  and  this  in- 
strument of  the  soul's  corruptions,  and  this 
shackler  of  the  soul's  powers,  its  prison  and 
its  torment — let  the  beasts  of  the  field,  or  the 
birds  of  the  air,  or  the  winds  of  heaven, 
or  whoever  will,  claim  and  take  it.  It  is 
not  worthy  a  care  or  a  thought."  But  the 
great  God  says,  "  That  body  also  is  mine. 
I  formed  it ;  it  displays  in  every  limb  and 
movement  my  power  and  skill ;  a  soul  dear 
to  me  as  my  own  existence,  has  dwelt 
within  it ;  and  none  besides  me  shall  be  ita 
lord." 

And  the  text  is  not  the  only  passage  in 
which  this  condescending  claim  is  urged. 
"  I  lx?seech  you,  brethren,  by  the  mercies 
of  God,"  says  Saint  Paul,  "  that  ye  present 
your  bodies  a  living  sacrifice,  holy,  accepta- 
"blc  unto  God,  which  is  your  reasonable 
service."  And  here,  in  this  chapter,  he 
uses  language  on  this  subject  of  remarka- 
ble strength,  telling  us  that  our  bodies,  as 
well  as  our  souls,  are  iiuluded  in  that  close 
but  mysterious  union  wliich  binds  together, 
connects  and  makes  one,  the  Lord  .Tesus 
Christ  and  his  church.  "  The  body,"  he 
says  in  the  thirteenth  verse,  "is  lor  the 
Lord  ;"  and  then  again  in  the  fifteenth 
verse,  he  asks,  "  Know  ye  not  that  your 
bodies  are  the  members  of  Christ '?" 

And  all  this  is  true  of  the  Christian  at 
all  times.  It  matters  not  where  he  is  nor 
in  what  state,  he  is  God's.  Whether  we 
arc  rejoicing  in  heaven  or  suffering  on 
earth  ;  whether  our  spirits  within  us  are 
soaring  in  holy  anticipations  to  the  skies, 
or,  pressed  down  by  the  burdens  of  life, 
are  unable  to  rise  above  the  dark  .scones 
through  which  we  are  passing  j  and  wheth- 


210 


THE  REDEEMED  SINNER  A  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


er  these  bodies  of  ours  are  sleeping  or 
waking,  inhabited  by  the  spirit  or  forsaken 
of  it,  breatliing  the  air  or  become  the  food 
of  worms  ;  God  still  says  concerning  us, 
concerning  every  living  soul  and  every 
clay-built  dwelling  place  a  soul  has  occu- 
pied, "  They  are  mine."  When  the  things 
that  are  ours  are  marred,  or  defiled,  or 
worn  out,  we  cast  them  away  from  us,  but 
not  so  the  Lord.  His  love  for  his  own 
never  varies.  He  never  foregoes  or  con- 
ceals his  claim  to  them.  He  is  as  willing 
to  acknowledge  for  his  own  the  beggar  in 
his  coffin,  as  the  king  on  his  throne  ;  the 
sinner  weeping  on  the  earth  or  mouldering 
in  its  dust,  as  the  angel  rejoicing  at  his  own 
feet  in  the  heavens.  "  Whether  we  live," 
says  Saint  Paul,  "  we  live  unto  the  Lord  ; 
and  whether  we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord  ; 
whether  we  live  therefore  or  die,  we  are 
the  Lord's  ;  for  to  this  end  Christ  both 
died,  and  rose,  and  revived,  that  he  might 
be  Lord  both  of  the  dead  and  living." 

n.  But  hoio  did  the  Christian  become 
God''s  ?  He  is  said  to  have  been  "  bought 
with  a  price." 

Terms  of  this  import  are  of  frequent 
occurrence  in  the  New  Testament.  In  the 
countries  where  it  was  written,  they  were 
perfectly  intelligible,  and  they  will  be 
equally  so  to  us,  if  we  carry  our  minds  to 
the  same  countries,  and  keep  in  view  their 
peculiar  customs  and  habits. 

The  Holy  Spirit,  you  remember,  is 
speaking  of  the  converted  sinner  as  God's 
property,  connected  with  him  just  as  aCorin- 
thian  slave  was  connected  with  his  master. 
Now  there  were  at  Corinth  several  ways 
by  which  one  man  might  become  the  pro- 
perly of  another.  He  might  be  born  of  a 
slave,  and  then  his  birth  would  give  the 
owner  of  his  parent  a  right  to  him  also. 
It  is  not  thus,  however,  that  we  become  the 
members  of  Christ's  blessed  family.  The 
fathers  of  some  of  us  served  him  not;  and 
O  if  the  fathers  who  serve  him  now,  could 
entail  a  like  glorious  bondage  on  their  chil- 
dren, what  pangs  and  fears  would  many  an 
anxious  heart  be  spared  ! 

Another  mode  of  acquiring  property  in 
a  fellow-creature  was  by  i)urchasc.  And 
tliis  was  a  transaction  so  common  in  Greece, 
that  all  the  people  were  quite  familiar  with 
it,  and  would  consequently  enter  at  once 
into  the  meaning  of  any  illustration  drawn 
from  it.  When  therefore  the  apostle  says 
of  God's  servants,  "  they  are  bought  with 


a  price,"  in  order  partly  to  keep  up  the 
metaphor  which  he  had  previously  adopted, 
he  waives  that  right  to  them  which  God 
possesses  as  their  Creator,  and  brings  for- 
ward another  claim  ;  not  indeed  a  more 
valid  claim  than  that  which  creation  gives, 
but  more  peculiar,  and  endearing,  and  en- 
nobling ;  a  title  by  which  among  the  mil- 
lions of  creatures  that  throng  the  universe, 
even  the  Lord  who  formed  them,  can  claim 
none  other  as  his  own.  "  Ye  are  mine," 
he  says,  "  for  I  have  bought  you  with  a 
price.  I  have  done  that  for  you,  which  I 
never  did  for  any  but  you — I  parted  for  a 
time  with  the  most  precious  of  all  my  treas- 
ures to  make  you  mine." 

Not  that,  by  employing  such  a  figure, 
the  apostle  sanctions  the  custom  to  which 
it  refers.  His  noble  soul  would  have  dis- 
dained the  thought  of  man's  bartering  his 
fellow-man  for  silver  or  gold.  But  he 
makes  use  of  human  oppression  to  illus- 
trate the  divine  mercy.  He  sees  man  de- 
voted to  man,  obeying  his  will  and  subject 
to  his  disposal ;  and  his  spiritual  eye  dis- 
covers there  an  image  of  his  own  condi- 
tion, an  emblem  of  his  own  duty  to  a  high- 
er Lord.  He  recollects  the  means  by 
which  that  bondman  became  his  master's 
slave,  and  even  this  base  transaction  begets 
in  his  holy  soul  spiritual  ideas  ;  it  is  turn- 
ed into  a  representation  of  his  own  trans- 
fer from  Satan  to  God.  He  goes  no  fur- 
ther. He  no  more  countenances  slavery 
by  the  allusion  he  makes  to  it,  than  he 
commends  the  outrages  of  the  Olympic 
games,  when  he  bids  us  emulate  the  ear- 
nestness they  displayed. 

In  carrying  out  this  illustration,  he  does 
not  tell  us  the  price  which  the  Lord  Jeho- 
vah has  paid  for  his  church.  It  needed 
not  to  be  mentioned.  Besides,  his  silence 
concerning  it,  bespeaks  the  high  sense  he 
had  of  its  value.  It  is  his  usual  way, 
when  his  mind  is  deeply  impressed  with 
the  importance  of  any  thing,  not  expressly 
to  mention  it,  but  to  bring  it  before  us  by 
what  often  appears  at  first  only  a  slight  al- 
lusion. Thus  tiio  day  of  judgment,  that 
most  momentous  of  all  days,  he  often 
places  distinctly  in  our  view  without  ever 
naming  it.  You  have  an  instance  in  his 
prayer  for  Oncsiphorus  in  the  first  chapter 
of  his  second  epistle  to  Timothy.  "  The 
Lord  grant  unto  him,  that  he  may  find 
mercy  of  the  Lord  in  that  day."  And  a 
still  more  striking  instance  of  the  same  pe- 


THE  REDEEMED  SINNER  A  TEMPLE  OF  T.OD. 


211 


culiarity  occurs  in  the  same  epistle. — 
Throe  important  objects  are  occupying  his 
thoughts — his  own  soul,  his  beloved  Sa- 
viour, and  the  great  day  of  final  account ; 
and  these  objects  he  fastens  on  our  thoughts, 
before  we  are  aware  that  he  has  made  no 
e.xplicit  mention  of  any  one  of  them.  "  I 
know,"  he  says,  "  whom  I  have  believed, 
and  am  persuaded  that  he  is  able  to  keep 
that  which  I  have  committed  unto  him 
against  that  day." 

Precisely  similar  to  this  is  his  language 
in  the  te.xt.  "  Ye  are  bought  with  a  price," 
he  tells  us;  "a  price  so  well  known,  so 
much  in  your  thoughts  and  mine,  so  won- 
derful in  the  mode  of  its  payment,  and  so 
much  more  wonderful  still  in  tiie  vastness 
of  its  amount,  that  no  mortal  tongue  can 
bo  required  to  name  it ;  you  can  never 
forget  or  mistake  it." 

And  is  the  case  altered  now  ?  Need 
any  one  of  you.  Christian  brethren,  be 
told  what  that  price  was  by  which  you 
were  redeemed  ?  Never.  You  may  for- 
get the  mother  who  bore  and  the  father 
who  cherished  you,  the  scenes  of  your 
childhood  and  the  companions  of  your 
youth  ;  you  may  forget  the  friends  you 
have  buried,  and  the  tears  you  have  shed, 
and  the  burdens  you  have  borne  :  every 
object  you  have  loved  may  fade  away  from 
your  remembrance,  and  not  a  trace  be  left 
of  the  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand 
emotions  your  souls  have  known;  but  nev- 
er, while  one  fragment  of  memory  shall 
last,  can  you  forget  that  the  price  paid  for 
your  bodies  and  souls,  was  the  precious 
blood  of  your  incarnate  Lord  ;  precious 
indeed  !  so  precious  that  in  comparison 
with  it,  all  the  silver  and  gold  the  earth 
contains,  is  as  dross,  and  all  the  created 
riches  of  heaven  as  "  the  dust  of  the  bal- 
ance." He  esteems  it  precious,  in  whose 
sight  the  universe  is  as  nothing  ;  who  could 
dash  the  whole  creation  to  pieces,  and  yet 
never  feel  his  dominions  lessened,  and  build 
it  again,  and  scarcely  deem  his  possessions 
increased.  "Ye  were  redeemed,"  says 
the  Moly  Spirit,  "  with  the  precious  blood 
of  Christ."  Rut  Paul  says  more.  By  one 
of  those  bold  figures  which  man  could  nev- 
er have  dared  to  think  of,  had  not  God  first 
taught  him  to  use  them,  he  raises  yet  high- 
er tlie  amount  of  (his  ransom.  As  though 
determined  that  none  should  be  ignorant  of 
its  amazing  worth,  he  says,  when  speaking 
to  the  elders  of  Miletum  of  the    church, 


"  God  halh  purchased  it  with  his  own 
blood." 

His  meaning  is  obvious.  Money  trans- 
ferred the  Greek  slave  from  one  master  to 
another ;  so  the  blood  of  the  Lord  Jesus  is 
the  means  whereby  the  sinner  is  rescued 
from  his  native  thraldom,  and  brought 
"  into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children 
of  God."  By  sin  he  became  the  servant 
and  property  of  Satan.  His  holy  Lord 
ceased  to  own  him  ;  he  acknowledged  Sa- 
tan's claim  to  him  ;  he  gave  the  man  up 
to  him  as  his  lawful  slave.  The  blood  of 
Christ  makes  an  atonement  for  the  trans- 
gressor's sin  :  in  a  legal  sense,  it  does 
away  with  it ;  and  thus  it  annihilates  that 
on  which  Satan's  title  to  him  rests.  And 
now  where  is  the  believing  sinner?  the 
man  who  goes  before  the  great  Judge  of 
all,  and  pleads  what  this  blood  has  done, 
and  puts  in  his  prayer  to  be  restored  to  his 
rightful  Lord  ?  He  is  "  of  the  household 
of  God,"  at  his  door,  at  his  feet,  in  his 
arms ;  a  servant  still,  but  not  bearing  a 
servant's  name,  and  scarcely  standing  in  a 
servant's  place  ;  he  is  called  on  earth  and 
in  heaven,  his  friend  and  his  son. 

And  this  immense  price  was  paid  to 
bring  about  this  result.  All  the  tears 
that  the  Saviour  ever  wept,  and  every  con- 
flict and  pang  he  endured ;  the  mocking 
and  scourging ;  the  nails,  and  the  thorns, 
and  the  cross,  and  the  spear ;  the  horror 
within  and  the  darkness  around  him  ;  this 
was  the  one  great  end  and  design  of  them 
all,  that  we  might  be  God's,  and  know  our- 
selves to  be  God's,  and  act  like  those  that 


are  his.     "  He  jjave  himself  for 


us,    says 


the  apostle  again,  "  that  he  might  redeem 
us  from  all  iniquity,  and  purify  unto  him- 
self a  peculiar,"  or,  as  the  original  word 
signifies,  an  acquired,  purchased  "  people, 
zealous  of  good  works." 

But  we  find  this  truth  placed  in  the  te.xt 
in  a  yet  stronger  light. 

III.  Consider  wluU  the  great.  Jehovah 
docs  with  the  people  lohoni  he  takes  as  his 
own. 

And  now  the  Holy  Spirit  changes  the 
metaphor.  He  represents  the  purchased 
and  redeemed  slave  under  one  of  the  most 
lofty  figures  to  which  the  mind  can  rise;  a 
figure  still  familiar,  but  investing  the  hap- 
py object  of  pardoning  mercy  with  a 
wonderful  and  almost  fearful  grandeur. 
"  Bought  with  a  price,"  made  over  to  God, 
God  in  that  moment  forms  him  a  temple  to 


212 


THE  REDEEMED  SINNER  A  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


himself.  "  Know  ye  not,"  asks  the  text, 
"  that  your  body  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy 
Ghost?" 

We  all  know  what  a  temple  is.  In  its 
primary  sense,  the  term  denotes  a  place 
dedicated  to  the  honor  of  some  deity,  and 
supposed  to  be  favored  with  his  presence. 
Corinth  was  crowded  with  stately  edifices 
of  this  kind,  and  consequently  the  expres- 
sion must  have  been  in  hourly  use  there. 
As  Saint  Paul  uses  the  word,  it  conveys 
three  ideas. 

1.  It  imports  a  rebuilding,  a  restoration. 

Man  was  originally  the  temple  of  Jeho- 
vah ;  an  eartiily  but  yet  a  magnificent 
structure,  designed  to  show  forth  the  power 
and  wisdom  which  could  raise  a  fabric  so 
glorious  from  materials  so  poor.  But  sin 
marred  this  beauty.  It  entered  the  tem- 
ple, and,  in  one  short  hour,  this  noble  piece 
of  Jehovah's  workmanship  became  a  mourn- 
ful ruin.  Some  traces  indeed  of  its  origi- 
nal glory  may  still  be  discovered,  but  to 
what  do  they  amount?  They  serve  only 
to  show  the  greatness  of  its  degradation  ; 
how  high  man  might  have  risen,  and  how 
low  man  has  sunk.  His  lofty  understand- 
ing overthrown  ;  its  powers,  formed  to  con- 
template God  and  know  him,  so  shattered, 
that  they  cannot  scan  without  an  effort  the 
meanest  of  his  works,  baffled  in  their 
proudest  strength  by  an  insect's  wing,  and 
taught  their  weakness  by  a  blade  of  grass  ; 
his  aflections  too,  which  once  rose  to  the 
skies,  now  grovelling  on  the  earth,  rooting 
themselves  in  the  ground  as  though  they 
could  find  in  this  accursed  ground  their 
rest  and  happiness — a  spiritual  being,  and 
yet  bounded  in  his  ideas  and  enjoyments 
by  material  objects,  without  scarcely  one 
longing  after  higher  or  purer  things  ; — all 
within  man  testifies  of  some  sad  overthrow  ; 
all  is  disorder,  havoc,  and  desolation. 

But  look  again  at  this  ruined  creature. 
The  blood  of  Christ  has  ransomed,  and  now 
the  grace  of  Christ  transforms  him.  In 
the  very  hour  when  he  becomes  the  Lord's, 
a  work  of  restoration  is  commenced  within 
him,  a  rebuilding,  a  cleansing,  an  adorning, 
a  process  of  renovation  that  never  ends,  till 
it  brings  shape,  and  beauty,  and  glory,  out 
of  a  mass  of  ruins.  And  this  is  sanctifica- 
tion  ;  that  exercise  of  divine  power  on  the 
human  mind,  which  gradually  restores  to 
it  its  original  excellence.  It  does  more. 
It  prepares  the  mind,  not  for  paradise,  but 
for  heaven.     It   makes   a   man    meet   for 


heaven.  It  moulds  him  at  last,  in  body 
and  soul,  into  the  perfect  likeness  of  his 
glorified  Lord.  The  old  men  wept,  we 
are  told,  while  building  the  second  temple 
at  Jerusalem  after  the  overthrow  of  the 
first ;  they  could  not  bear  the  contrast  be- 
tween tbe  meanness  of  the  one  and  the 
splendor  of  the  other  ;  but  no  recollections 
of  departed  greatness  will  mar  the  glory 
of  the  redeemed  church,  nor  impair  its 
gladness.  It  will  emerge  from  its  ruins  in 
a  beauty  which  man  in  his  innocence  never 
wore,  in  a  magnificence  which  angels  in 
their  greatness  never  displayed,  in  a  purity 
that  will  fill  the  mind  even  of  a  holy  God 
"  with  exceeding  joy."  It  will  be  a  temple 
such  as  earth  could  not  bear,  "a  building 
of  God,"  resting  its  foundations  on  the  ever- 
lasting hills  of  heaven,  the  noblest  work 
of  its  Author,  and  eternal  as  his  throne. 

2.  Dedication,  also,  is  included  in  this 
figure.  It  is  indeed  this  which  distinguishes 
a  temple  from  every  other  building.  It  con- 
stitutes its  character.  Without  it,  the  most 
majestic  fabric  that  was  ever  reared,  is 
deemed  unworthy  to  bear  this  sacred  name. 
Consequently  the  temple  which  Solomon 
built  to  the  Lord  at  Jerusalem,  was  set 
apart  for  God ;  it  was  given  up  to  him  on 
its  completion,  by  a  public  and  solemn  cer- 
emony. 

And  thus  the  purchased  sinner  is  conse- 
crated  to  holy  purposes.  There  was  a  time 
when  every  sensual  object  could  enter 
within  his  soul ;  the  door  of  it  stood  ever 
open,  and  nothing  was  too  vile  to  be  admit- 
ted  there.  One  base  idol  after  another  set 
up  its  throne  within  him,  and  was  wor- 
shipped  with  a  blind,  but  intense  and  un- 
ceasing homage.  His  life  too  corresponded 
with  the  sordidness  of  his  inward  condition. 
Nothing  godly  was  ever  seen  in  it.  He 
served  the  world  as  devotedly  as  he  loved 
it.  Sin  held  over  him  a  visible  dominion. 
He  lived  in  the  sight  of  men  and  angels 
a  desecrated  thing,  no  more  sacred  to  the 
God  who  made  him,  than  the  stones  on 
which  he  trod.  Sovereign  mercy  at  last 
interposed.  "  That  man,"  said  the  Lord 
Jehovah,  "  have  I  formed  for  myself;  he 
shall  show  forth  my  praise."  And  tlien 
the  grace  of  the  Holy  Ghost  came  down, 
and  took  possession  of  his  soul.  It  sepa- 
rated him  from  the  world  ;  it  marked  him 
out  as  destined  for  high  and  heavenly  uses, 
an  object  of  divine  complacency,  a  monu- 
ment of  power  and  goodness,  a  creature  in 


THE  REDEEMED  SINKER  A  TEMPLE  OF  GOD. 


213 


whom  an  infinito  God  would  forever  bo 
glorified  and  admired. 

And  the  man  himself  falls  in  with  this 
dcsipn.  Enlightened  to  see  the  will  of 
heaven  concerninfr  him,  diseoverinpr  the 
splendor  of  the  prospects  openinn;  before 
him,  his  mind  awakes  to  a  sense  of  his  no- 
ble calling.  He  shakes  himself  from  the 
(lust,  he  detaches  himself  from  the  world  ; 
he  yields  himself  unto  God.  He  becomes 
bis  by  an  act  of  self-devotedness.  While 
he  lives  on  earth,  he  mourns  that  he  is  not 
more  entirely  surrendered  to  him ;  and 
longs  for  the  time  when  every  moment 
sliall  be  employed  in  his  service,  and  every 
thought  and  feeling  of  bis  soul  be  his.  As 
the  name  of  tiio  heathen  god  was  written 
on  the  portico  of  the  heathen  temple,  so  his 
blessed  Master's  name  is  written  on  his 
forehead,  and  the  world  reads  it  there. 
There  is  a  peculiarity,  a  sacredness,  about 
him.  He  stands  out  among  his  fellow-men 
a  dedicated  thing.  He  is  visibly  and  plainly 
God's. 

3.  A  temple  implies  also  residence,  the 
abode  of  the  Deity  within  it,  to  whom  it  is 
consecrated.  Thus  when  Solomon  dedi- 
cated his  finished  structure  to  Jehovah,  the 
divine  majesty,  we  are  told,  came  down, 
"and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  filled  the  house 
of  the  Lord."  The  shechinab,  as  it  threw 
its  radiance  over  the  mercy-seat,  mani- 
fested that  God  had  descended  into  the  holy 
place,  and  regarded  it  as  a  habitation  for 
himself  Nor  was  this  all.  There  also 
he  made  himself  known  to  his  people  by 
tokens  of  his  love  and  outpourings  of  his 
grace. 

And  has  this  building,  brethren,  in  whioh 
we  are  now  assembled,  been  ever  made  a 
scene  of  blessedness  to  you  1  Have  you 
ever  felt  here  the  wrestling  n^  prayer,  or 
the  glowing  of  love,  or  the  snaring  of  hope  ? 
Have  you  ever  known  what  it  is  to  thirst 
for  Christ  or  enjoy  communion  witli  him 
within  these  walls?  Then  all  this  has 
been  because  God  has  b-^en  here  ;  because 
he  has  remembered  and  fulfilled  his  own 
gracious  promise,  "  Whrre  I  record  my 
name,  T  will  come  and  bless."  O  may  he 
record  it  here  more  visibly  and  gloriously! 
May  he  more  abundantly  visit  and  bless  you  ! 

Now  as  the  Lord  dwelt  in  the  .Jewish 
temple,  he  comes  into  the  souls  of  those 
that  are  his,  and  dwells  in  them.  We 
must  not  conceive  of  him.  Christian  breth- 
ren, as  far  away  from  us  ;  nor  must  we  be 


content  with  placing  him  as  a  companion 
by  our  side.  We  must  labor  to  take  in  the 
idea  of  God  lodging  with  us  ;  not  carrying 
on  his  work  of  mercy  in  the  heart  like  a 
bystander,  but  as  leaven  works  in  the  meal, 
mingling  itself  with  the  mass  it  is  changing. 
He  speaks  of  himself  in  this  chapter,  as  so 
blending  his  Spirit  with  ours,  that  they  be- 
come one  spirit.  He  bids  his  apostle  remind 
us  in  the  text,  that  the  Holy  Ghost  which 
we  "  have  of  him,"  is  "  in  us."  The  same 
apostle  tells  us  in  another  place,  that  we 
are  "the  temple  of  the  living  God  ;"  and 
then  he  immediately  assigns  as  a  reason 
for  investing  us  with  so  glorious  a  charac- 
ter, this  ancient  promise  of  God  to  his 
church,  "I  will  dwell  in  them,  and  walk 
in  them."  And  again,  in  a  third  place,  he 
calls  that  church  "an  habitation  of  God 
through  the  Spirit." 

To  the  man  of  the  world  this  is  all  a 
mystery.  He  treats  it  perhaps  as  a  de- 
lusion.  And  no  wonder.  It  is  understood 
only  by  experience,  and  of  things  like  this 
he  has  had  no  experience.  To  the  man  of 
God  it  is  a  blessed  reality.  He  wants  no 
bright  shechinab,  no  cloud  of  glory,  to 
discover  to  him  his  heavenly  Guest.  He 
knows  not  how  he  came  there,  but  he 
knows  that  were  not  God  the  Holy  Ghost 
within  his  heart,  that  heart  would  be  a 
stranger  to  the  love  which  often  warms 
it,  the  peace  which  keeps,  and  the  hope 
which  cheers  it.  God  never  enters  the 
heart  alone  ;  blessings  unspeakable  follow 
in  his  train — light,  and  purity,  and  joy.  He 
does  not  at  once  turn  it  into  a  heaven,  but 
he  makes  it  so  mucii  like  heaven,  that  the 
happy  Christian  had  rather  be  forsaken  of 
the  whole  wnrM.  than  iiave  his  God  depart 
from  his  soul. 

How  glorious  a  privilege  tlien  is  this — to 
be  singled  out  from  among  the  creatures 
of  the  universe  as  a  temple  to  Jehovah's 
praise  ;  a  temple  recovered  to  him  by  the 
blood  of  his  Son,  rebuilt  by  the  stretching 
forth  of  his  omnipotence,  dedicated  to  his 
honor,  and  inhabited  by  his  high  and  holy 
Spirit !  And  why  are  we  told  of  this  privi- 
lege  ?  Wliat  is  it  to  bring  nut  of  us  ?  Won- 
der, exultation,  and  songs?  No,  bretliren; 
duty,  service.  It  is  appealed  to  here,  as 
an  undisputed,  well-known  fact,  to  enforce 
on  us  this  one  command,  "  Glorify  God." 

IV.  We  are  come  then  to  our  last  sub. 
ject  of  consideration — ihc  glory  which  God 
expects  frnm  vs. 


THE  REDEEMED  SINNER  A  TEMPLE  OF  GOD 


Now  the  glory  of  God  flows  out  of  the 
perfections  of  God.  It  is  not  such  a  glory 
as  results  to  a  man  from  the  circumstances 
in  which  he  is  placed,  the  office  he  fills,  or 
the  title  he  bears:  it  is  a  glory  that  is 
inseparable  fronn  Jehovah  ;  its  source  is  to 
be  found  in  his  intrinsic  excellences.  To 
glorify  him,  therefore,  is  to  bring  these  ex- 
cellences, in  some  measure,  into  light,  to 
make  them  visible. 

And  the  redeemed  sinner  does  this  in 
two  ways.  He  shows  forth  the  glory  of 
Jehovah  ■passively.  His  very  redemption, 
his  rescued,  happy  condition,  is  an  amazing 
exhibition,  the  most  stupendous  in  the  uni- 
verse, of  the  divine  attributes.  In  this  point 
of  view,  the  creation  of  a  world  is  as  noth- 
ing to  the  salvation  of  his  lost  soul.  But 
in  this  command,  we  are  called  on  to  go  a 
step  further.  We  are  to  glorify  God  ac- 
Uvply ;  in  other  words,  so  to  live  and  act, 
that  all  who  see  us,  may  be  reminded  by 
us  of  God,  may  be  forced  to  discover  and 
acknowledge  in  us  the  workmanship  of  his 
hands,  may  render  a  willing  or  reluctant 
homage  to  his  greatness. 

Evidently  the  service  of  the  body  is 
needed  for  this  work.  Indeed  it  is  by  the 
body  chiefly,  as  an  instrument,  that  the 
work  must  be  done.  We  may  say  that  the 
seat  of  religion  is  the  soul,  that  its  home  is 
the  secret  and  inmost  recesses  of  the  heart ; 
but  then  it  is  an  operative,  active  principle. 
It  has  effects,  and  those  effects  will  be  visi- 
ble in  the  frame  which  the  soul  animates. 
If  our  religion  is  not  of  this  character,  it  is 
hanily  worth  our  retaining.  There  may 
be  some  exercise  of  thought  and  some  play 
of  feeling  in  it,  but  there  is  no  vital  godli- 
ness. A  religion  of  bare  sentiment  or  cold 
orthodoxy,  an  abstracted,  sublimated  devo- 
tion, may  do  for  a  cloister  or  a  chamber, 
but  it  will  never  do  in  heaven  or  in  the 
way  to  heaven.  If  I  would  display  the 
glory  of  God,  I  must  let  men  see  the  power 
of  God  over  my  own  soul  ;  and  where  are 
tliev  to  see  this,  l)Ut  in  my  actions  and 
life? 

Still  the  same  work  must  be  going  on 
within.  We  are  called  on  to  "  glorify  God 
in  our  spirit ;"  and  we  must,  in  fact,  glori- 
fy him  there,  before  we  can  show  forth  his 
praise  at  all.  Right  conduct  must  proceed 
from  right  principles  and  right  feelings.  A 
holy  life  must  have  its  spring  in  a  lioly 
heart.  Hence  God  says,  "  My  son,  give 
me   thine   heart ;"    and   by   the   heart  he 


means  the  whole  inner  man,  all  the  powers 
and  all  the  affections  of  the  soul. 

In  one  word,  what  God  expects  from  us, 
is  nothing  less  than  a  living  up  to  our  char- 
acter as  his  property,  his  servants,  his  tem- 
ples ;  an  entire  consecration  of  ourselves 
in  all  we  think,  and  say,  and  do,  to  him- 
self. Our  mental  faculties — understand- 
ing, and  memory,  aiid  imagination  ;  our 
bodily  powers — youth,  health,  and  strength  ; 
our  other  talents  —  time,  property,  and 
friends  ; — he  demands  of  us  a  complete  re- 
nunciation of  self  in  the  use  we  make  of  all 
these,  and  as  complete  a  dedication  of  them 
all  to  the  glory  of  his  own  great  name. 

Brethren,  what  humbling  considerations 
are  these  !  How  abasing  is  every  part  of 
this  subject !  abasing  to  the  holiest  of  us 
and  the  best !  You  are  told  that  you  are 
not  your  own  ;  you  know  that  you  are  not 
your  own  ;  you  bless  God  every  day  you 
live  that  he  has  made  you  his  ;  and  when 
you  think  of  yourselves  as  his  temple,  his 
dwelling-place,  with  what  a  trembling  yet 
elevated  joy  do  you  exult  in  the  thought ! 
But  where  is  the  glory  that  the  Lord  expects 
from  you  ?  where  that  display  of  his  per- 
fections, which  he  asks  at  your  hands  ? 
Our  bodies  we  have  often  employed,  as 
though  God  had  no  right  to  them,  would 
never  call  us  to  account  for  the  use  we 
have  made  of  them  ;  and  as  for  our  spirits, 
the  world  has  occupied  and  well-nigh  ab- 
sorbed them  ;  their  noblest  powers  have 
been  spent  on  earthly  vanities,  and  their 
warmest  affections  have  often  settled  in  the 
dust.  And  all  this  has  tarnished  the  di- 
vine glory,  or  at  best  concealed  it.  Our 
earthly-mindedness,  our  sloth,  our  evil  tem- 
pers and  evil  words,  our  drinking  in  tlie 
unhallowed  spirit  of  the  world  and  half 
falling  in  with  its  ways ; — these  things 
have  been  robbing  the  God  we  were  crea- 
ted to  glorify  ;  the  God  we  were  restored 
and  consecrated  to  praise.  In  our  case, 
sin  is  sacrilege  ;  it  is  a  desecration  of  that 
which  God  lias  made  holy  ;  it  is  a  dishon- 
oring of  him  in  the  very  place  which  ho 
has  set  apart  for  his  name.  And  he  will 
not  bear  the  insult.  He  would  not  even 
bear  his  earthly  house  at  Jerusalem  to  be 
thus  profaned.  No  unclean  person  was 
suffered  to  enter  it.  However  free  he 
might  be  from  moral  pollution,  or  however 
ignoranlly  In-  n)ight  have  contracted  cere- 
monial defilement,  he  dared  not  approach 
its  sacred   courts.     And  why   was  this  "^ 


THE  WOMAN  OF  CANAAN. 


215 


Why  was  God  so  jealous  for  the  honor  of 
his  temple  ?  Because  it  was  his  teniplo  ; 
hecause  his  name  was  on  it  and  his  dwell- 
ing-place within  it.  The  more  intimately 
it  was  connected  with  him,  the  more  was 
ho  dishonored  and  displeased  by  any  pollu- 
tion it  received.  And  what  does  he  say  of 
the  living  temples  he  now  inhabits  on 
earth  ?  "  Know  ye  not,"  asks  the  Spirit, 
"  that  ye  are  the  temple  of  God,  and  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  dwellcth  in  you  ?"  And 
then  he  adds,  "  If  any  man  defile  the  tem- 
ple of  God,  him  shall  God  destroy;  for  the 
temple  of  God  is  holy,  which  tem])le  ye 
are."  O  then  let  this  be  the  first  prayer 
of  every  one  of  us,  "  God  be  merciful  to 
me  a  sinner  !"  and  this  the  second,  "  May 
the  love  of  Christ  constrain  me  !  May  he 
who  bought  me  with  so  vast  a  price,  beat 
down  in  my  soul  all  that  opposes  itself  to  a 
supreme  love  for  him  !  Whatever  else  he 
may  make  me,  whether  poor  or  rich,  sick 
or  -well,  rejoicing  or  sorrowful,  loved  or 
friendless,  may  he  make  me  sincere  and 
without  offence  till  the  day  of  Christ,  being 
filled  with  the  fruits  of  righteousness,  which 
are  by  Jesus  Christ,  unto  the  glory  and 
praise  of  God  !" 

And  ought  not  this  subject  to  excite  in 
some,  perhaps  in  many  of  us,  a  feeling  of 
alarm  ?  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  in  the 
least  strained  this  scripture,  or  attached  to 
it  one  idea  that  it  will  not  fairly  bear. 
Now  if  1  have  not  erred  and  materially 
erred  in  my  representation  of  it,  the 'con- 
clusion is  irresistible — the  religion  of  some 
of  us  is  a  delusion  ;  it  is  a  hollow,  worth- 
less thing.  It  not  only  comes  short  of 
what  God  asks  for,  it  is  in  its  nature  alto- 
gether different.  "Ye  are  not  your  own," 
he  says  ;  but  we  follow  the  devices  and 
desires  of  our  own  hearts,  we  act  day 
by  day  as  though  our  souls  and  bodies 
and  all  we  could  command,  were  entirely 
our  own  ;  and  our  religion,  while  we  are 
acting  thus,  never  interrupts  us.  God 
says,  "  Glorify  me."  "  Let  your  lives 
show  forth  my  perfections,  and  bring  honor 
to  them  as  it  shows  them  fortli  ;" — we 
have  never  had  such  a  thought  enter  our 
minds.  O  brethren,  pray  foj-  yourselves, 
that  you  may  see  the  fallacy  of  such  a 
religion  as  this,  and  have  done  with  it. 
Stake  eternity  on  it  ?  Rather  attempt  to 
walk  over  a  fathomless  gulf  on  a  reed,  or 
to  cross  the  ocean  on  a  plank. 


SERMON    XXXIX. 

THE  WOMAN  OF  CANAAN. 
St.  Matthew  xv.  28. 

Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  her,  O  woman, 
great  is  thy  faith  .'  Be  it  unto  thee  even  as 
thou  wilt. 

The  great  God,  brethren,  is  a  sovereign 
God.  Save  his  own  holy  will,  he  knows 
no  law  and  feels  no  control.  And  his 
sovereignty  does  not  lie  buried  in  the  hid- 
den depths  of  his  Godhead  ;  he  manifests 
it,  but  never  so  plainly  and  never  so  glori- 
ously, as  when,  at  the  same  time,  he  man- 
ifests his  grace. 

We  have,  in  the  history  before  us,  a 
striking  display  of  both  these  perfections. 
It  shows  us  a  sinner  lying  in  fervent  sup- 
plication at  the  Redeemer's  feet ;  and 
where  ?  Not  in  Jerusalem,  in  the  temple 
and  among  the  Israel  of  God  ;  but  in  the 
borders  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  of  all  heathen 
cities  the  worst.  And  who  was  this  sin- 
ner ?  She  was  a  native  of  this  same  vile 
heathen  land.  Saint  Mark  calls  her  "  a 
Greek,"  the  usual  term  applied  by  the 
Jews  to  all  the  Gentiles  ;  and  says,  she 
was  "a  Syrophocnician  by  nation,"  that  is, 
an  inhabitant  of  Phoenicia,  the  country  in 
which  Tyre  and  Sidon  stood.  And  not 
this  onl}',  she  was  a  Canaanite,  the  de- 
scendant of  an  exiled  and  accursed  race. 
"  Behold,"  says  the  evangelist,  and  he 
makes  use  of  this  expression  in  order  to 
draw  our  attention  to  the  circumstance, 
"  Behold,  a  woman  of  Canaan  came  out  of 
the  same  coasts,  and  cried  unto  him,  say- 
ing. Have  mercy  on  me  !"  And  who 
taught  her  to  cry  to  Jesus  for  mercy  1 
Who  made  her  thus  to  differ  from  all 
around  her  ?  A  sovereign  God.  He 
teaches  us  in  her,  that  he  "  will  have 
mercy  on  whom  lie  will  have  mercy  ;" 
and  he  teaches  us  more,  that  none  shall 
ever  draw  near  his  dear  Son  in  vain ;  that 
"  there  is  no  respect  of  persons  with  God  ;" 
that  "  whosoever  shall  call  on  tlie  name  ot 
the  Lord,  shall  be  saved."  He  confirms 
the  declaration  of  the  Saviour's  lips,  "  Ma- 
ny .shall  come  from  the  east  and  west,  and 
shall  sit  down  witii  Al)raham,  and  Isaac, 
and  Jacob,  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

But  we  must  not  regard  this  miracle 
.solely  as  an  exhibition  of  divine  gracf;  and 
sovereignty.     The  Lord  Jesus  condescends 


216 


THE  WOMAN  OF  CANAAN. 


to  appear  in  i.  at  first  in  a  subordinate 
light.  He  places  between  him  and  us  a 
helpless  suppliant  for  his  compassion,  and 
shows  us  in  her  what  every  praying  sinner 
ought  to  be.  He  evidently  sets  her  before 
us  as  an  example.  Let  us  then  see,  first, 
what  we  can  find  in  this  woman  to  com- 
mend ;  secondly,  what  our  Lord  himself 
actually  commended  in  her ;  and  then, 
lastly,  the  gracious  treatment  she  received 
from  him. 

L  1.  Parental  love  perhaps  is  the  first 
feature  that  strikes  us  in  her  character; 
and  that  a  peculiarly  strong  and  wise  love. 

The  language  she  uses  proves  its 
strength.  She  says,  "  Have  mercy  on  me, 
O  Lord;"  and  again,  "Lord,  help  me." 
But  for  herself  she  wanted  no  mercy  or 
help.  She  makes  the  case  of  an  afflicted 
child  her  own,  and  in  the  excitement  of  her 
feelings  she  forgets  that  it  is  not  her  own  ; 
she  prays  for  her  daughter,  as  though  she 
were  praying  for  herself. 

And  her  affection  was  wise.  Observe 
the  conduct  to  which  it  prompted  her — she 
brought  the  affliction  of  her  child  to  the 
Lord.  Not  content,  like  poor  Hagar  in  the 
desert,  with  feeling  and  weeping,  she  fled  to 
one  who  was  able  to  save,  and  cried  for  his  aid. 

And  that  love  which  does  not  lead  to 
prayer,  is  a  poor  love.  It  may  appear 
strong,  and  it  may  be  strong,  so  strong  that 
it  may  almost  wear  us  out  with  feeling,  but 
after  all,  the  love  of  a  prayerless  father,  a 
prayerless  mother,  a  prayerless  friend,  is 
but  little  worth.  God  often  curses  such 
love,  visibly  curses  it ;  he  allows  it  to  be- 
come the  ruin  of  its  object.  We  must 
take  the  wants  of  our  children  and  friends 
to  a  throne  of  grace,  if  we  would  be  blessings 
to  tiiem.  That  is  the  best  love,  the  only 
safe  love,  which  is  often  hallowed  by  prayer. 

2.  And  it  was  not  in  a  cold,  heartless 
mannev,  that  this  woman  prayed  for  her 
daughter.  Mark  ^nv\\\ov  lier  earnestness  ; 
tiie  importunity,  the  perseverance,  with 
which  she  pressed  her  suit. 

Her  first  prayer,  we  are  told,  was  a  cry, 
an  imploring  cry  for  mercy.  But  this,  it 
appears,  gained  no  attention  ;  Jesus  "  an- 
swered lier  not  a  word."  Neglect,  how- 
ever, (lid  not  silence  her;  she  still  kept 
praying  and  crying  on.  At  last  tlic  wea- 
rie(l  disciples  could  hear  her  importunity 
no  longer.  Touched  perhaps  with  com- 
passion, they  came  and  besought  their 
Master,  saying,  "  Send  her  away,  for  she 


crieth  after  us."  And  what  was  his  re- 
ply ?  It  was  one  that  seemed  to  preclude 
all  hope.  He  speaks  of  her  as  though  she 
were  beyond  the  reach  of  his  arm.  "  I 
am  not  sent  but  unto  the  lost  sheep  of  the 
house  of  Israel."  And  now  look  at  her. 
A  bystander  would  have  considered  this 
answer  a  complete  rejection  of  her  suit, 
more  discouraging,  if  possible,  than  even 
the  preceding  silence  ;  but  she  sees  hope 
in  it.  She  feels  that  she  has  advanced  one 
step  towards  her  object,  for  she  has  gained 
at  last  the  ear  of  Christ.  Down  at  once 
before  him  she  falls,  and  saying  nothing 
about  his  commission,  appeals  to  his  com- 
passion and  power.  Saint  Matthew  says 
that  she  "  worshipped  him,"  but  Saint 
Mark  tells  us  that  she  "  fell  at  his  feet, 
saying.  Lord,  help  me." 

And  now  surely  she  must  succeed.  But 
mark ;  he  answered  and  said,  "  It  is  not 
meet  to  take  the  children's  bread,  and  to 
cast  it  to  dogs."  This  is  a  term  of  reproach 
in  frequent  use  in  the  east.  The  Jews  ap- 
plied it  to  the  heathen  as  the  most  oppro- 
brious epithet  by  which  they  could  desig- 
nate them.  It  is  still  employed  by  the  fol- 
lowers of  Mahomet  in  a  similar  manner. 
But  how  strange  a  word  to  drop  from  the 
lips  of  Christ !  How  low,  brethren,  will 
he  sometimes  abase  those  whom  he  has  re- 
solved to  exalt !  And  how  patiently,  how 
quietly,  will  his  afflicted  people  sometimes 
bear  this  humbling  !  This  woman,  we 
might  have  expected,  would  now  have  either 
sunk  into  the  silence  of  despair,  or  risen 
from  the  earth  in  anger,  and  turned  her 
supplications  into  complaints.  But  grace 
triumphs  when  grace  prays  ;  triumphs  over 
feeling,  and  temper,  and  every  discourage- 
ment. With  astonishing  quickness,  with 
that  admirable  ingenuity  which  nothing 
but  deep  emotion  can  display,  she  turns  the 
reproacii  thrown  at  her  into  a  plea,  and 
grounds  on  it  a  renewal  of  her  suit. 
"  Truth,  Lord,  yet  the  dogs  eat  of  the 
crumbs  which  fall  from  their  master's 
table." 

This  was  indeed  prayer,  but  all  real 
prayer  is  like  it.  There  is  feeling  and 
earnestness  in  it ;  a  feeling  which  the  Holy 
Spirit  excites  and  sustains,  and  an  earn- 
estness wliicli  lie  suffers  nothing  to  over- 
come. A  man  who  prays  at  all,  must  at 
times  pray  thus.  Look  at  a  starving  beg- 
gar. When  he  asks  you  for  bread,  his 
soul  is  in  his  words.      A    refusal    does  not 


THE  WOMAN  OF  CANAAN. 


217 


Bilence  him,  a  repulse  docs  not  send  him 
away  ;  he  will  ask  again  and  again,  till 
his  entreaties  have  touched  you.  And 
why?  The  man  feels  himself  starving; 
he  knows  that  he  must  have  bread  or  sink. 
And  O  what  are  we,  brethren,  in  the  midst 
of  all  our  comforts?  Are  we  not  perish- 
ing ?  Have  we  not  starving  and  dying 
souls  ?  Such  is  our  situation,  so  destitute, 
so  perilous,  so  awful,  that  any  real  prayer 
for  relief  must  be  an  earnest  prayer.  It 
will  be  this  woman's  petition,  "  Lord,  help 
me."  It  will  be  the  sinking  Peter's  cry, 
••  Lord,  save  me."  It  will  be  the  appeal 
of  the  storm-tossed  disciples,  "  Lord,  save 
us  ;  we  perish."  It  will  be  the  fervent 
supplication  of  our  own  Scriptural  Church, 
"  O  God,  the  Father  of  heaven,  have  mercy 
upon  us,  miserable  sinners." 

3.  But  let  us  go  to  another  grace  mani- 
fested by  this  woman — deep  huvdUty. 

We  now  think  nothing  of  prostrating 
ourselves  before  the  Lord  Jesus.  We 
know  him  to  be  "  God  over  all  blessed  for 
ever,"  and  we  feel  at  once  that  the  ground 
is  our  right  station  before  him.  But  when 
he  appeared  on  earth,  the  case  was  differ- 
ent.  He  stood  here  as  a  man  of  ordinary 
appearance  and  more  than  ordinary  mean- 
ness, a  despised  and  persecuted  Nazarene. 
The  great  mass  of  those  who  saw  him, 
would  have  spurned  the  thought  of  bowing 
the  knee  to  him ;  many  of  them  would 
have  been  ashamed  even  to  be  seen  in  his 
presence.  But  this  Canaanite  publicly 
abases  herself  before  him.  Heedless  of 
derision  and  scorn,  she  comes  and  ftills  at 
his  feet  ;  she  lies  there  supplicating  his 
help  as  one  undeserving  his  help,  and  im- 
ploring his  mercy  as  having  noother  claim 
on  his  mercy  than  her  wretchedness. 

And  mark  this  especially — she  took  the 
character  wliicli  the  Lord  assigned  to  her; 
she  prayed  on  the  ground  where  he  had 
placed  her.  It  was  the  lowest  ground  on 
which  she  could  be  placed.  He  called  her 
"  a  dog,"  a  name  expressive  in  her  coun- 
try of  every  thing  base  ;  yet  she  re-echoes 
the  name,  she  applies  it  readily  to  herself 
as  nothing  worse  than  her  due;  and  as  a 
dog  she  renews  her  petition. 

And  herein  lies  real  humility.  It  does 
not  dispute  with  God.  It  teaches  us  to  re- 
gard ourselves  as  God  regards  us,  to  deem 
ourselves  what  he  tells  us  we  are.  Does 
he  describe  us  in  his  word  as  unworthy, 
guilty,  perishing  ?  Does  he  say  that  we 
28 


are  "  wretched,  and  miserable,  and  poor, 
and  blind,  and  naked  ?"  We  are  not  an- 
gry with  his  words;  we  do  not  set  ourselves 
to  explain  them  away.  We  take  our  stand 
on  the  hun)iliating  ground  marked  out  for 
us,  and  plead  for  the  mercy  wliich  he  has 
provided  in  Clirist  Jesus  for  the  sinners  he 
finds  there — light  for  the  blind,  raiment  for 
the  naked,  gold  for  the  poor,  pardon  for  the 
guilty,  salvation  for  the  lost.  Never  need 
the  best  of  us,  or  the  worst  of  us,  fear  to 
get  too  low  when  we  pray.  We  can  never 
sink  beyond  the  reach  of  the  Saviour's  ear 
or  the  Saviour's  arm.  It  is  sweet  to  pray 
in  "the  spirit  of  adoption,"  sweet  to  ask 
for  blessings  at  our  Father's  hands  like 
those  who  know  that  they  are  the  Father's 
children,  but  this  is  not  needful ;  the  dogs 
eat  of  the  crumbs  ;  a  sinner's  praver  can 
pierce  the  heavens ;  the  vilest  transgressor 
that  ever  breathed,  never  asked  a  single 
mercy  of  the  Lord,  and  asked  in  vain. 

II.  So  much  for  our  commendation  of 
this  woman.  Let  us  turn  now  to  our 
Lord's  commendation  of  her. 

And  it  is  remarkable  that  he  passes  over 
in  silence  all  that  we  have  admired.  He 
says  not  one  word  of  her  parental  love,  or 
earnestness  in  supplication,  or  deep  humil- 
ity. He  does  not  let  us  discover  that  he 
has  even  noticed  them.  He  commends  only 
her  faith.     "  O  woman,  great  is  thy  faith  !" 

And  this  was  in  perfect  accordance  with 
his  conduct  on  other  occasions.  You  re- 
member the  woman  who  came  to  him  in  the 
Pharisee's  house  ;  that  happy  mourner,  who 
"  washed  his  feet  with  her  tears,  and  wiped 
them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head."  As  we 
look  on  her  weeping  by  his  side,  \\c  are 
delighted  with  her  feeling,  and  contrition, 
and  love  ;  but  here  again,  though  in  his 
reproof  to  Simon  he  vindicates  her  affec- 
tion, Christ  singles  out  another  and  a  far 
less  conspicuous  grace  for  his  praise. 
"Thy  faith,"  he  says,  "  hath  saved  thee; 
go  in  peace." 

Now  there  must  be  some  reason  for  the 
peculiar  honor  thus  uniformly  put  on  this 
grace  ;  and  it  is  probably  this — faith  is  the 
root  or  princii)!e  from  wiiich  all  other 
graces  spring.  It  is  not  oidy  mixed  up 
with  them,  but  it  is  their  origin,  their  source. 
They  grow  out  of  it  ;  they  are  kept  alive 
and  are  perfected  l)y  it. 

It  is  easy  to  discover  that  it  lay  at  the 
root  of  all  this  mother's  virtues.  If  her 
parental  love  did  not  owe  to  faith  its  exist- 


218 


THE  WOMAN  OF  CANAAN. 


ence,  it  was  faith  that  gave  it  the  direction 
it  toolt  ;  it  was  i'aitli  that  brouglit  her  with 
it  to  the  Saviour's  feet  ;  it  was  faith  that 
made  it  a  wise  and  holy  love.  Little  in- 
deed would  it  have  benefited  her  child,  if 
faith  had  not  guided  it. 

And  her  earnestness  and  perseverance 
in  prayer  were  the  fruits  of  the  same  grace. 
Who  ever  asks  us  for  that  which  he  does  not 
at  least  think  we  possess  ?  and  who  does 
not  soon  cease  from  asking,  unless  he  has  j 
an  impression  on  his  mind,  that  we  are  able  | 
to  give,  and,  in  the  end,  will  give  him  the 
help  he  implores  ? 

As  for  her  deep  humility,  her  willing- 
ness to  stand  on  the  ground  where  our 
Lord's  contemptuous  appellation  placed 
her,  nothing  but  a  peculiarly  strong  faith 
could  have  wrought  that.  She  believed 
him  to  be  a  great  Saviour;  she  was  not 
therefore  afraid  to  pray  as  a  great  sinner. 
She  believed  his  power  and  compassion  to 
be  boundless  ;  it  mattered  nothing  then,  in 
her  estimation,  how  unworthy  or  abject  she 
was,  nor  how  desperate  her  child's  case  ; 
there  was  help  for  her  in  him,  and  help, 
she  felt  sure,  which  she  might  attain. 
Weak  faith  makes  us  afraid  to  lie  low  ; 
we  do  not  see  how  comfort  or  help  can 
come  to  us  there.  Accordingly  we  often 
want  to  see  or  feel  ourselves  to  be  the 
children  of  G'od,  before  we  ask  for  his  mer- 
cies. But  when  faith  grows  strong,  this 
solicitude,  in  a  great  measure,  dies  away. 
We  can  pray  then  as  sinners,  pray  just  as 
our  church  teaches  us  all  to  pray,  as 
"  miserable  sinners  ;"  and  in  this  charac- 
ter, we  can  ask  and  expect  from  Christ  the 
highest  blessings.  We  do  not  even  en- 
deavor to  find  any  ground  of  hope  in  our- 
selves. We  have  all  the  encouragement 
we  need  in  the  free  mercy  of  an  infinitely 
gracious  God. 

But,  observe,  our  Lord  not  only  singles 
out  this  woman's  faith  for  his  commenda- 
tion, he  commends  it  as  faith  of  extraordi- 
nary strength.  "  Great,"  he  says,  "is  thy 
faith;"  and  he  says  this  evidently  with  a 
feeling  of  admiration.  There  are  but  two 
instances  on  record,  in  which  he  uses  lan- 
guage of  this  kind,  and  both  these  are  the 
cases  of  Gentiles  ;  one  that  of  the  Roman 
centurion,  the  other  the  case  of  this  woman 
of  Canaan.  This  circumstance  shows  us 
that  Christ  marks  the  difficulties  with  which 
we  are  surrounded.  There  was  doubtless 
in  the  faith  of  each  of  these  persons,  a  pe- 


culiar extent  of  grasp  and  a  peculiar  vigor 
of  exercise.  One  deemed  him  able  to  heal 
his  servant  by  a  mere  word  ;  the  other  re- 
cognised in  him  David's  long  expected 
Son,  the  promised  Messiah  :  she  prostrates 
herself  before  him  as  a  Being  who  well 
knew  her  situation  and  wishes,  and  appeals 
to  the  greatness  of  his  mercy  and  power, 
as  though  she  were  pleading  with  the  living 
God.  But  it  was  neither  its  extent  nor  its 
strength,  simply  considered,  which  obtain- 
ed for  this  faith  our  Lord's  commendation. 
Its  chief  excellence  was  derived  from  the 
circumstances  under  which  it  was  mani- 
fested. It  was  fahh  out  of  Israel.  It  was 
faith  flourishing  among  unbelief  and  idola- 
try. It  was  a  flower  in  the  desert ;  it  was 
fruit  brought  forth  amidst  thorns. 

III.  Let  us  look  now  at  the  gracious 
treatment  it  oitained  for  her. 

1.  And  here  we  are  struck  at  once  by 
the  fact,  that  Christ  delayed  his  answer  to 
her  petiiion. 

And  could  there  be  grace  in  this  ?  It 
would  seem  so,  for  thus  the  Lord  deals  the 
most  frequently  with  those  he  loves  the 
best.  He  thus  treated  his  prophets  of  old, 
even  when  executing  his  work,  and  suffer- 
ing for  their  faithfulness  in  his  cause.  "  O 
Lord,"  says  Habakkuk,  "  how  long  shall 
I  cry,  and  thou  wilt  not  hear  ?  even  cry 
out  unto  thee  of  violence,  and  thou  wilt  not 
save  ?"  "  When  I  cry  and  shout,"  says  the 
mourning  Jeremiah,  "  he  shutteth  out  my 
prayer,"  "  closes,  as  it  were,  the  door  of 
his  dwelling  place,  lest  my  supplication 
should  enter  in."  And  in  how  mournful  a 
strain  does  the  church  in  the  Canticles  be- 
wail her  baflied  efforts  to  find  her  Lord  ! 
She  describes  him  as  inviting  her  prayers, 
as  standing  at  the  door  of  her  habitation 
and  calling  her  to  communion  with  him. 
She  rises  up  joyfully  to  welcome  him,  and 
where  is  he  ?  "I  opened  to  my  Beloved," 
she  says,  but  "  my  Beloved  had  withdrawn 
himself  and  was  gone.  I  sought  him,  but 
I  could  not  find  him.  I  called  him,  but  he 
gave  me  no  answer."  And  sometimes 
this  delay  goes  on  till  the  case  appears 
hopeless,  and  the  soul  is  ready  to  faint. 
"  I  am  weary  of  my  crying,"  says  the  af- 
flicted David  ;  "  my  throat  is  dried  ;  mine 
eyes  fail,  while  I  wait  for  my  God." 

Does  this  language  describe  your  own 
situation,  brethren,  and  your  own  feelings 
of  disa])p()intmont  and  wonder  under  it  ?  It 
would  be  useless  to  say  to  you,  your  con- 


THE  WOMAN  OF  CANAAN. 


219 


dition  is  a  liappy  one  ;  but  hrin;:^  faith  into  j 
exercise,  and  it  will  tell  you  tliat  thougli  it ; 
is  a  sufTcring,  it  is  not  and  cannot  be  a  lost . 
one.  God  is  dealing  no  worse  with  you,  | 
han  he  dealt  long  ago  with  men  "  of  whom  ! 
the  world  was  not  worthy  ;"  men  who  were 
ever  in  his  eye,  and  always  on  his  heart ; 
whom,  you  yourselves  well  know,  he  could 
no  more  have  cast  off,  or  forgotten,  or  neg- 
lected, than  he  can  now  cast  olf  iiis  glory 
or  forget  his  joy.  Neither  has  he  aban- 
doned you  ;  no,  nor  laid  aside  his  mercy  in 
Iiis  dealings  with  you.  It  has  assumed  a 
form  which,  for  the  moment,  you  cannot 
comprehend,  and  this  is  all.  It  is  no  new- 
form.  Thousands  have  beheld  it  in  this 
form,  and,  like  you,  wondered  at  it,  who 
are  now  in  lieaven.  You  are  remembered 
still  "  with  the  favor  that  the  Lord  has  ever 
borne  unto  his  people;"  he  is  still  "mer- 
ciful unto  you,  as  he  uses  to  be  unto  those 
that  love  his  name." 

Look  again  to  this  repulsed  petitioner. 

2.  While  the  Lord  delayed  the  mercy 
she  supplicated,  he  gave  her  strength  to  per- 
severe in  prayer  for  it,  and  made  that  prayer 
more  humble  and  earnest. 

Christ  never  struggles  with  a  praying 
sinner,  without  giving  that  sinner  power  to 
struggle  with  him.  While  in  his  demean- 
or he  strove  against  this  woman,  his  Spirit 
was  at  work  in  her  heart,  upholding  her 
faith,  keeping  alive  her  hope,  suppressing 
every  rising  of  wounded  feeling,  and  en- 
abling her  to  triumph  over  every  discour- 
aging word  and  appearance.  The  praying 
psalmist  lie  treated  in  the  same  way.  "  In 
the  day  when  I  cried,"  he  says,  "  thou  an- 
sweretlst  me  ;"  and  what  was  the  answer  1 
"  Thou  strcngthenedst  nie  with  strength  in 
my  soul." 

And  no  mercy,  brethren,  that  you  can 
receive  in  answer  to  prayer  can  be  more 
gracious,  than  strength  to  pray  on  ;  none 
can  be  thought  of,  which  carries  more  love 
in  it,  or  bears  more  plainly  the  impress  of 
heaven.  God  only  can  give  you  tliis.  Na- 
ture, in  a  time  of  distress,  may  |)ray,  but 
nature  can  never  brook  a  long  denial.  She 
must  either  obtain  at  once  the  blessing  she 
supplicates,  or,  "It  is  vain  to  serve  God," 
shi'  says,  and  turns  to  human  helpers,  or 
abandons  herself  to  misery.  It  is  grace 
only  that  hopes  against  hope.  It  is  grace 
that  lies  down  waiting  at  the  footstool  of  a 
delaying  God.  It  is  grace  that  says  amid 
discouragements,  and  mystery,  and  sutfer- 


ings,  "  Though  he  slav  mo,  yet  will  I  trusi 
inliim."  "1  will  wait  Wn-  tiu-  Lord  that 
hidetJi  his  face,  and  1  will  look  for  him." 

And  whenever  Christ  thus  sustains  a 
spirit  of  prayer  in  any  heart,  he  generally 
does  more  than  sustain  it — lie  makes  that 
very  delay  the  means  of  increasing  it.  We 
want  a  mercy  ;  it  comes  at  once,  and  then 
prayer  languishes  or  ceases  altogether. 
The  mercy  at  another  time  is  witiiheld,  but 
the  soul  is  kept  thirsting  for  God  ;  is  e.K- 
cited  to  thirst  for  liim  more  intensely,  to 
plead  with  him  more  earnestly,  to  wait  for 
liim,  to  "  follow  hard  after  God."  It  is  a 
test  of  true  prayer  to  be  quickened,  rather 
than  dispirited,  by  heaven's  silence.  Blind 
Bartimeus,  we  are  told,  "  cried  the  more 
a  great  deal"  for  mercy  ;  and  when  ? 
When  Christ  seemed  to  be  passing  him  un- 
heeded, and  "  the  multitude  were  charging 
him  that  lie  should  hold  his  peace."  The 
petitioner  before  us  prayed  at  first  like  one 
taught  to  pray  ;  she  asked  as  an  undeserv- 
ing sinner  for  help  and  mercy,  and  she 
asked  for  them  with  an  imploring  heart ; 
but  when  Christ  had  first  neglected  and  af- 
terwards repulsed  her,  how  did  she  pray 
then  ?  She  takes  the  dust  for  her  station, 
and  affords  us  tiiere  such  an  example  of 
humility,  and  faith,  and  ardor,  in  supplica- 
tion, as  we  can  scarcely  find  elsewhere 
even  in  the  book  of  God. 

3.  And  mark  further — Christ  put  on  her 
signal  honor. 

Indeed,  whenever  we  honor  God,  God  al- 
wavs  honors  us.  Whenever  we  Millingly 
advance  his  glory,  even  though  we  advance 
it  quite  unconsciously,  he  always  takes  care 
of  ours.  Our  glory,  in  fact,  gets  so  con- 
nected and  intermixed  with  his,  that  the 
one  cannot  be  discovered  without  bringing 
into  view  the  other.  And  thus  he  displays 
his  condescension  togetlier  with  his  great- 
ness. By  causing  his  glory  to  shine  in  us 
and  through  us,  he  allows  us  to  share  in 
that  which  is  his  alone.  Now  prayer  crowns 
( Jod  with  honor.  It  "  ascribes  greatness" 
unto  liim.  It  sets  him  forth  as  a  God  of 
power,  and  mercy,  and  never-failing  truth. 
We  need  not  wonder  then  that  God  honors 
prayer;  and  that  he  honors  it  the  most 
when  he  puts  it  to  the  most  fiery  trial,  and 
keeps  it  in  exercise  amidst  the  severest 
checks.  He  is  not  satisfied,  in  such  cases, 
with  giving  it  the  blessing  it  asks  for  ;  he 
bestows  it  in  some  maimer  that  stamps  the 
liappy  suppliant  witii  his  approbation,  and 


220 


THE  WOMAN  OF  CANAAN. 


carries  nome  to  his  heart  an  assurance  of 
his  love. 

Contrast  the  case  of  this  Canaanite  with 
that  of  another  praying  heathen,  the  cen- 
turion of  Capernaum.  Before  he  is  able 
to  utter  one  word  of  supplication,  he  obtains 
a  promise  of  help  and  of  all  the  help  he 
wishes  for.  "  Lord,"  he  says,  "  my  ser- 
vant lieth  at  home  sick  of  the  palsj^  griev- 
ously tormented."  "  I  will  come  and  heal 
him,"  says  Christ.  What  a  readiness  to 
hear  and  answer  prayer  is  manifested  in 
this  answer  !  "  It  shall  come  to  pass," 
Christ  seems  to  say  to  us  in  it,  "  that  before 
they  call,  I  will  answer ;  and  while  they 
are  yet  speaking,  I  will  hear."  And  what 
an  honor  too  conferred  on  this  petitioner ! 
He  obtains  his  request  almost  without  ma- 
king it  known,  and  obtains  along  with  it  a 
commendation  of  his  faith.  But  put  the 
question  to  yourselves — had  you  not  rather 
have  been  this  baffled,  long-tried  woman 
of  Canaan,  than  that  speedily-answered 
Roman  ?  Do  not  her  graces  shine  out  more 
brightly  ?  Has  she  not  obtained  at  her 
Redeemer's  feet  more  abundant  honor  ? 
'And  ask  again,  does  she  not  owe  this  honor 
to  that  Redeemer's  tardiness  to  grant  her 
suit  ?  And  does  she  not  at  this  moment 
deem  that  once  strange  tardiness  a  mark 
of  his  gracious  favor  towards  her,  a  flowing 
out  of  his  love  ?  And  do  not  you  your- 
selves view  it  in  the  same  light  ?  And  such 
ere  long  will  you  regard  that  delay  of  mer- 
cy, which  now  perplexes  your  own  souls. 
That  which  keeps  prayer  alive  and  strength- 
ens it  in  hearts  like  yours  ;  that  which  holds 
you  who  are  prone  to  wander  so  far  from 
God,  so  very  near  to  him  ;  that  which  im- 
pels you  to  honor  God  and  leads  God  to 
honor  you — that  must  be  a  blessing.  It 
may  for  a  time  weigh  down  your  hearts, 
but  eventually  it  will  fdl  those  hearts  with 
praise  and  joy. 

Turn  once  more  to  this  history. 

4.  Our  Lord,  at  last,  gave  to  this  woman 
all  she  desired.  "  O  woman,"  he  says, 
"  great  is  thy  faith  !  Be  it  unto  thee  even 
as  thou  wilt."  And  he  evidently  says  this 
in  the  accents  of  admiration,  with  feelings 
of  delight  and  love.  Till  now,  he  had  been 
refraining  himself  before  her  ;  he  had  been' 
bridling  within  his  own  breast  emotions 
which  it  would  have  made  her  heart  burn 
with  joy  to  know.  His  end  is  at  length 
answered  ;  and  now,  like  Joseph  among 
his    brethren,   he   can   refrain   himself  no 


longer  ;  he  gives  a  joyful  utterance  to  his 
feelings,  and  manifests  himself  to  her  in  all 
his  tenderness  and  grace. 

We  learn  then  here,  that  there  is  often 
more  love  towards  us  in  the  heart  of  Christ, 
than  we  can  see  in  his  dealings  with  us. 

We  judge  of  the  love  of  a  fellow-crea- 
ture for  us  by  his  conduct  towards  us  ;  and 
if  his  love  be  real  and  strong,  his  conduct 
generally  appears  to  us  consistent  with  it. 
He  aims  in  it  at  the  end  we  wish,  and  the 
means  he  employs  to  attain  this  end,  are, 
in  most  cases,  such  as  we  understand  and 
approve.  But  we  must  not  judge  thus  of 
the  love  of  Christ.  He  aims  at  a  higher 
happiness  for  us  than  we  think  of  for  our- 
selves, and  brings  that  happiness  home  to 
us  in  a  way  which  may  appear  at  first  to 
be  bringing  us  nothing  but  misery.  The 
consequence  is,  we  are  not  always  able  to 
reconcile  the  dispensations  of  his  providence 
with  the  reality  of  his  love.  He  often  seems 
to  be  acting  as  our  enemy  rather  than  as 
our  friend.  All  his  ways  are  dark  and 
mysterious,  and  through  the  clouds  that 
surround  his  throne,  we  can  see  no  ray  of 
his  goodness,  no  trace  of  his  favor.  Sight 
fails  us  in  such  seasons,  and  we  want  a 
higher  principle  to  keep  us  waiting  on  the 
Lord.  Faith  is  this  principle.  It  can  tell 
us  in  these  seasons,  in  any  season,  that  the 
love  of  Christ  is  still  overflowing,  though  it 
is  all  hidden  from  our  eyes  ;  that  it  is  some- 
times in  the  strongest  and  tenderest  exer- 
cise, when  we  think  it  perished  forever. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  world  half  so  pre- 
cious as  a  simple  trust  in  him.  It  can 
bring  light  into  the  soul  in  the  darkest  hour, 
and  throw  the  brightness  of  hope  into  the 
thickest  gloom. 

We  learn  also  here,  that  the  prayer  of 
faith  is  always  crowned  in  the  end  with  abun- 
dant success. 

Observe,  our  Lord  not  only  gives  this 
woman  what  she  asks,  but  lets  her  know 
at  the  same  time  that  she  may  have  any 
thing  she  asks.  He  does  not  say  to  her, 
"  Thy  daughter  is  made  whole  ;"  but,  "  Be 
it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt."  He  makes 
her  own  wishes  the  measure  of  his  bounty. 
And  how  must  her  heart  liave  bounded  at 
such  a  saying  as  this  !  Who  that  has  a 
mother's  or  a  father's  feeling,  can  help  pic- 
turing to  himself  the  ardor  of  gratitude,  the 
thrill  of  joy,  with  which  this  distressed  pa- 
rent  must  have  caught  these  gracious 
words?      Fervent   prayer,   when  granted, 


THE  CITIES  OF  REFUGE. 


221 


turns  into  fervent  praise.  That  then  could 
be  no  common  praise,  which  a  suppliant 
like  this  offered  to  such  a  Benefactor  for 
such  a  mercy ;  and  that  no  common  joy,  with 
which  such  a  mother  returned  to  her  home, 
and  clasped  to  her  heart  her  restored  child. 
A.nd  what  desire  of  your  heart,  brethren, 
will  be  left  unsatisfied,  if  God  has  made 
that  heart  a  heart  of  prayer  ?  None  but 
Christ  can  satisfy  you.  It  is  not  in  the 
power  of  the  whole  creation  to  say  to  one 
immortal  spirit,  '•  Be  it  unto  thee  even  as 
thou  wilt."  But  Christ  can  say  this,  and 
does  say  it,  sooner  or  later,  to  every  seek- 
ing, earnest,  humbled  soul.  He  never  has 
failed,  he  never  will  fail,  such  a  soul.  It 
is  a  thing  unheard  of  in  his  universe.  All 
hell  would  wonder  at  it,  and  heaven  for  the 
first  time  tremble.  He  mocks  none.  De- 
sires that  he  has  enkindled,  he  always  sat- 
isfies. If  he  has  taught  you  to  desire  his 
help  and  mercy,  help  for  your  lost  souls 
and  mercy  for  eternity  ;  to  desire  them  as 
absolutely  needful  for  you,  and  to  seek 
them  as  the  unmerited  gifts  of  his  compas- 
sion ;  that  very  desire  becomes  a  warrant 
for  your  hope.  Be  assured  that  he  has 
pledged  himself,  in  his  everlasting  cove- 
nant, to  bestow  them  on  you  ;  and  to  be- 
stow them  in  no  scanty  measure,  but, 
stretch  your  thoughts  to  the  very  utmost, 
to  give  you  "  exceeding  abundantly  above 
all  you  can  ask  or  think."  No  matter  how 
low  the  ground  on  which  you  pray,  nor 
how  high  your  petitions  soar,  the  blessing 
is  promised,  prepared,  ready. 

Are  you  looking  downward,  thinking  of 
a  dreadful  hell  and  praying  for  deliverance 
from  its  terrors  ?  "  There  is  no  condemna- 
tion," he  says,  "to  them  which  are  in  Christ 
Jesus."  "  Be  it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt." 
Do  your  thoughts  turn  inward  ?  Is 
your  language  this,  "  O  that  my  polluted 
heart  were  cleansed  !  O  that  these  cor- 
ruptions were  subdued,  this  tumult  within 
me  calmed,  these  fears  and  doubts  dissi- 
pated, these  burdens  lightened,  this  dark- 
ness, these  frightful  clouds,  swept  away  !" 
The  answer  he  sends  you  is  the  same,  "  Be 
it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt."  "  Sin 
shall  not  have  dominion  over  you."  "  I 
will  give  you  rest." 

Are  you  looking  upward,  longing  for 
an  eternal  world  ?  Are  you  saying,  as 
you  think  of  heaven,  "O  that  that  glorious 
heaven  were  mine  !  O  that  I  might  be  with 
him  whom  my   soul   adores!    O  that  I 


might  sit  at  his  feet,  and  see  his  face,  and 
behold  his  glory  !"  Still  the  same  answer 
comes  or  soon  will  come,  "  Be  it  unto  thee 
even  as  thou  wilt."  "I  goto  prepare  a 
place  for  you."  "  I  will  come  again  and 
receive  you  unto  myself,  that  where  I  am, 
there  ye  may  be  also." 

As  for  you,  brethren,  who  are  never 
found  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  who  never  seek 
his  help  or  desire  his  mercy,  or,  if  you  ever 
supplicate  them,  ask  for  them  as  thougli 
vou  would  not  stretch  forth  an  arm  to  make 
them  yours,  wonder  not,  in  a  dying  hour, 
if  you  die  without  them.  His  readiness  to 
give  them,  stamps  your  want  of  them  with  a 
fearful  character.  You  must  think  of  it  no 
more  as  a  misfortune  ;  it  is  plainly  a  want 
which  you  would  not  have  supplied.  It  is 
a  state  of  poverty,  which  is  your  choice. 
It  is  your  sin,  and  will  eventually  be  your 
destruction.  He  who  now  lays  open  the 
treasures  of  his  grace,  and  bids  you  take  of 
them  with  a  free  and  unsparing  hand,  is 
jealous  for  the  honor  of  his  mercies.  He 
will  pardon  any  thing  rather  than  contempt 
of  them.  The  dishonor  you  have  done  to 
them,  will  draw  down  on  you  his  heaviest 
vengeance.  Would  you  know  what  this 
vengeance  is  ?  It  is  only  this,  but  what 
could  it  be  more  or  worse  ? — you  shall  be 
without  his  mercy  and  help  forever.  You 
shall  wake  up  in  an  eternal  world,  as 
spiritually  destitute  as  you  are  content  to 
be  now  ;  and  when  you  cry  for  his  aid,  you 
shall  cry  in  vain.  You  refused  it  here  when 
offered  ;  he,  in  his  turn,  will  deny  it  there 
when  implored  ;  and  not  with  the  silence 
of  an  hour  or  a  day,  but  with  the  everlasting 
silence  of  worn  out,  exhausted  mercy. 


SERMON    XL. 

THE  CITIES  OF  REFUGE. 

Numbers  xxxv.  9,  10,  II. 

The  Lord  spake  unto  Moses,  saying,  Speak  unto 
the  children  of  Israel,  and  say  unto  them,  When 
ye  be  come  over  Jordan  into  the  land  of  Canaan, 
then  ye  shall  appoint  you  cities  to  be  cities  of 
refuge  for  you. 

These  Israelites  went  over  Jordan ;  they 
set  apart  these  appointed  cities ;  but  where 
are  their  walls  now  ?     The  men  who  built 


222 


THE  CITIES  OF  REFUGE. 


them  and  they  who  fled  to  them,  «oon  found 
in  thom  a  grave,  and  scarcely  one  stone 
remains  upon  another  to  tell  where  they 
stood.  And  thus,  brethren,  it  ever  has 
been  and  ever  will  bo  with  all  earthly 
refuges.  God  may  appoint  them,  God  may 
provide  and  bless  them,  but  we  shall  perish  j 
notwithstanding  all  they  can  do  for  us,  and  \ 
they  sooner  or  later  will  follow  us  into 
oblivion. 

But  though  the  shadow  has  disappeared, 
the  substance  is  still  left.  The  refuge  of 
which  these  cities  were  types,  is  yet  stand- 
ing. Its  foundations  are  eternal.  May 
God  give  us  grace  to  make  it  our  hiding 
place  through  all  generations  ! 

Regarding  the  institution  before  us  as 
emblematical  of  the  salvation  that  is  in 
Christ  Jesus,  let  us  direct  our  attention  to 
these  two  points  ; — first,  the  ends  for  which 
these  cities  of  refuge  were  designed;  and 
secondly,  the  means  by  which  their  protec- 
tion was  obtained. 

I.  1.  The  first  object  aimed  at  in  them, 
was  undoubtedly  fo  save  the  condemned. 

Immediately  after  the  flood,  we  find  God 
setting  a  high  value  on  human  life.  He 
speaks  of  man  as  "  created  in  his  own  im- 
age ;"  and,  as  though  to  harm  him  were  an 
injury  done  to  himself,  he  condemns  to  im- 
mediate deatJi  any  one  who  should  destroy 
him.  "  Whoso  sheddeth  man's  blood,"  he 
says,  "  by  man  shall  his  blood  be  shed." 
From  that  hour,  every  nation,  nay,  every 
tribe  of  men,  has  agreed  in  the  equity  of 
this  decree.  The  law  given  by  Moses  to 
the  Jews,  recognised  it.  It  did  more,  it 
made  such  provisions  for  carying  it  into 
effect,  that  there  seemed  no  possibility  for 
any  offender  to  escape.  One  of  these  pro- 
visions bears  directly  on  the  subject  we  are 
considering. 

The  nearest  relative  of  any  man  who 
was  slain,  was  allowed,  if  not  required,  to 
pursue  the  murderer  and  kill  him.  No 
trial  was  necessary,  no  formalities  or  delay. 
The  offender  was  condemned  by  the  very 
act  he  had  committed,  and  his  life  was  im- 
mediately at  the  mercy  of  the  avenger. 
"But  accidents,"  it  might  be  said,  "  will 
happen.  A  man  may  destroy  his  neighbor 
unawares,  without  malice  or  design."  It 
mattered  not,  the  law  condemned  him ;  his 
life  was  as  much  forfeited,  as  though  he 
had  been  a  deliberate  murderer.  Hence 
arose  the  institution  of  these  sanctuaries. 
They  were  set  apart,  three  on  each  side 


of  Jordan,  to  shield  the  unfortunate  man. 
slayer  from  destruction  ;  affording  no  pro- 
tection  to  any  one  who  slew  another  in  an- 
ger or  even  in  conflict,  but  standing  ever  open 
to  receive  and  shelter  whomsoever  accident 
had  made  guilty  of  his  brother's  death. 
The  avenger  of  blood  dared  not  lift  an  arm 
in  any  one  of  them  ;  his  authority  went 
from  him  at  their  gates. 

And  here,  brethren,  we  have  a  represen- 
tation first  of  ourselves,  and  then  of  the 
Lord  Christ. 

In  the  situation  of  a  manslayer  under 
the  Jewish  law,  Ave  may  behold  our  own  ; 
not  our  character,  for  he  was  unfortunate 
only  while  we  are  criminal,  but  our  danger, 
the  state  of  condemnation  and  peril  into 
which  we  are  brought.  We  are  sinners, 
great,  heinous  sinners ;  transgressors  of 
the  same  law  which  the  guilty  angels  vio- 
lated and  which  Adam  broke.  They  felt 
its  curse,  and  the  same  curse  is  now  resting 
on  our  heads.  It  condemned  us  the  very 
instant  we  first  violated  one  of  its  com- 
mands. We  imagine  that  we  are  merely 
in  danger  of  condemnation,  in  some  risk 
of  incurring  eventually  the  fearful  sentence 
of  the  divine  displeasure  ;  but  this  view  of 
our  condition  comes  far  short  of  its  real 
awfulness.  We  are  "  condemned  already." 
We  are  standing  even  now  in  the  situation 
of  convicted  transgressors.  Angels  and 
spirits  never  look  on  us,  Avithout  seeing 
guilt  and  death  written  on  our  brow.  Up- 
held, and  provided  for,  and  comforted,  the 
objects  of  amazing  forbearance  and  still 
more  amazing  goodness,  "  the  wrath  of 
God  is  yet  revealed"  against  us  ;  his  sword 
is  unsheathed,  and  the  fatal  stroke  may 
reach  us  we  know  not  when  or  how,  in  any 
place,  at  any  time  that  may  serve  the  best 
to  put  honor  on  Jehovah's  righteous  indig- 
nation, and  give  to  our  punishment  the 
greatest  terror.  And  what  is  this  punish 
ment  ?  The  scriptures  call  it  "  death,' 
but  the  worst  part  of  it  is  not  death.  It  is 
something  so  mournful,  that  none  of  the 
miseries  of  earth  can  be  compared  to  it; 
so  exceedingly  dreadful,  that  in  the  present 
enfeebled  state  of  our  minds,  we  can  form 
of  it,  except  in  some  moments  of  acute 
mental  anguisli,  scarcely  one  faint  concep- 
tion ;  wc  sliall  never  understand  it  fully 
till  it  overtakes  us.  And  it  is  coming  nearer 
to  us  every  hour.  As  for  escaping  it  or 
turning  it  aside,  we  might  as  well  attempt 
to  outstrip  the   lightning  in  its  course,  to 


TFIE  CITIES  OF  REFUGE. 


223 


beat  back  the  fury  of  iIk'  hurricane,  or  to 
silence  the  thunder  of  the  clouds. 

In  tliis  state  of  hopeless  condemnation, 
the  gospel  addresses  us.  It  sets  before  us 
the  crucified  Jesus  as  a  refuge  from  im- 
pending vengeance,  a  refuge  provided  for 
us  by  the  God  whose  law  we  have  broken, 
appointed  specially  to  meet  our  case,  and 
able  to  shelter  us  from  all  its  dangers.  It 
exhibits  him  as  set  apart  to  redeem  us 
"from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being  first 
made  a  curse  for  us ;"  as  having  himself 
met  the  Avenger  in  his  career  of  judg- 
ment, and  after  bowing  his  head  to  his  fear- 
ful  stroke,  receiving  from  him  a  commis- 
sion of  mercy  to  his  trembling  foes.  His 
cross  and  passion,  his  righteousness  and 
intercession,  or  rather  what  these  have  cm- 
powered  him  to  accomplish,  it  calls  "a  de- 
liverance," "a  salvation,"  "a  hope  set 
before  us."  It  bids  us  look  on  him  as  an 
open  and  safe  asylum  in  a  situation  wherein 
we  can  do  nothing  to  save  ourselves,  in  a 
world  where  no  other  sanctuary  can  be 
found. 

And  in  such  circumstances  as  ours,  to 
take  any  other  view  than  this  of  the  gos- 
pel, or  to  keep  this  view  of  it  out  of  sight ; 
to  regard  Christianity  as  a  code  of  morals, 
or  a  round  of  ceremonies,  or  a  system  of 
doctrines,  or  the  best  of  many  good  reli- 
gions ;  or  even  to  conceive  of  it  as  a  pro- 
vision of  comforts  only,  as  something  sent 
down  from  heaven  to  cheer  us  while  we 
live,  and  to  support  us  when  we  are  about 
to  die  ; — if  there  is  mistake  in  this  world 
of  folly,  or  delusion  in  this  world  of  mad- 
ness, it  is  in  this  mistake,  in  this  delusion, 
in  this  trifling  with  a  matter  that  involves 
in  it  life  and  death,  heaven  and  hell.  The 
gospel  is  every  thing  to  a  sinner,  or  it  be- 
lies itself,  it  is  nothing.  It  is  either  "  a 
cunningly  devised  fable,"  a  mockery  of 
human  woes,  or  it  is  a  great  remedy  in  a 
desperate  case,  an  antidote  for  a  mortal 
poison,  help  in  a  total  wreck,  life  for  the 
dead. 

2.  These  cities  had  however  a  second 
end  in  view — they  were  undoubtedly  in- 
tended to  uphold  and  honor  the  divine  fnio. 

It  is  clear  at  a  glance,  that  the  persons 
f)r  whoso  benefit  they  were  appointed, 
might  have  been  saved  without  them. — 
They  did  not  merit  death.  There  would 
consrquently,  as  far  as  they  were  concern- 
ed, have  been  no  direct  injustice  in  exempt- 
inir  them  at  once  from  it.     As  'n  our  own 


country,  their  case  might  have  been  sepa- 
rated from  that  of  the  intentional  murderer. 
But  God,  in  all  his  doings,  whether  of  judg- 
ment or  of  grace,  aims  higher  than  man 
aims.  His  holy  law  is  ever  in  his  thoughts, 
and  he  often  makes  even  his  works  of  mer- 
cy magnify  and  exalt  it. 

At  the  very  time  that  these  refuges 
screened  the  manslayer  from  the  fate  he 
had  incurred,  they  threw  around  the  sin  of 
murder  a  peculiar  terror.  Though  no 
blame  could  be  imputed  to  him,  yet  the 
mere  semblance  of  a  crime  like  this  con- 
demned  him.  His  life  was  placed  for  a 
time  in  as  much  danger,  as  though  he  had 
been  ever  so  criminal  ;  and  in  order  to 
save  it,  he  must  fly  from  his  home,  and 
continue,  perhaps  to  his  dying  hour,  an  ex- 
ile in  a  strange  city.  If  then,  the  people 
must  have  reasoned,  the  guiltless  shedder 
of  blood  is  thus  scarcely  saved,  how  great 
must  be  the  divine  indignation  against  him 
who  wilfully  pours  it  forth!  If  all  this 
process  is  necessary  to  snatch  an  innocent 
man  from  death,  what  must  be  the  depth 
of  that  abhorrence  in  which  the  great  Judge 
of  the  earth  holds  the  guilty  ! 

And  we  cannot  even  look  at  the  gospel 
of  Jesus  Christ,  without  seeing  in  it  the 
same  tendency  and  design.  Behold  the 
living  God  sparing  not  his  only  begotten 
Son.  Hear  the  Lord  of  hosts  exclaiming 
in  his  own  eternity,  in  that  world  where 
hitherto  no  sound  of  wrath  or  judgment 
had  ever  been  heard,  "Awake,  O  sword, 
against  my  Shepherd  ;  against  the  man 
that  is  my  Fellow."  And  then  look  at  this 
Fellow,  this  Equal  of  Jehovah,  putting  off 
his  majesty  and  glory,  clothing  himself  in 
the  garments  of  man's  vile  flesh,  entering 
our  world  in  a  form  which  an  angel  would 
have  disdained  to  wear,  living  here  year 
after  year  amidst  contempt,  and  suffering, 
and  pollution,  and  at  last  dying  here  the 
most  ignominious  death  this  world  of  death 
cnuld  inflict.  And  then  advance  a  step 
further.  Look  at  him  rising  out  of  the 
grave  still  unchanged  ;  taking  with  him 
the  poor  nature  in  which  he  died,  to  his 
own  everlasting  kingdom  ;  manifesting 
himself  in  it  there  to  his  wondering  hosts, 
and  sitting  down  on  the  throne  around 
which  all  creation  worshijis,  and  trembles 
as  it  worships,  the  exulting  and  triumphant 
Son  of  man. 

Now  why  all  this  '/  Why  this  strange, 
this  awful,  this  overwhelming  spectacle  ? 


224 


THE  CITIES  OF  REFUGE. 


Was  it  because  sinners  could  not  be  re- ' 
deemed  without  it  ?  because  tiiere  was 
something  in  the  nature  of  things  tiiat  made 
it  needful  ?  Men  have  said  so,  good  and  i 
wise  men,  but  the  Bible  nowhere  bids  them 
say  it ;  it  authorizes  no  such  statement. —  [ 
Who  could  have  called  the  living  God  to 
account,  had  he  pardoned  every  sinner  that 
breathes  without  any  sacrifice  ?  His  an- 
gels might  have  wondered  to  see  beings 
once  polluted  and  accursed,  brought  into 
their  pure  abode  of  happiness,  but  what 
trembling  lip  would  have  dared  to  ask, 
"  Why  doest  thou  this  ?"  No.  brethren  ; 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  humbled  himself  and 
died  to  "  magnify  his  law  and  make  it  hon- 
orable ;"  to  show  his  creatures,  in  the  very 
utmost  stretch  of  his  love,  how  "  glorious 
he  is  in  holiness,"  how  determined  to  do  or 
give  up  any  thing,  rather  than  suffer  one 
of  his  commands  to  fail,  rather  than  suffer 
the  authority  of  his  eternal  statutes  to  be 
even  suspected.  Nothing  establishes  his 
law  nothing  honors  it,  like  his  gospel  ; 
nothing  goes  half  so  far  in  proving  its  un- 
changeableness  ;  the  destruction  of  a  uni- 
verse could  not  have  clothed  it  with  such 
awful  glory. 

And  it  is  utterly  impossible  for  a  sinner 
to  know  any  thing  aright  of  the  gospel, 
without  discovering  this.  It  lies  on  its  sur- 
face. To  pretend  to  take  Christ  as  a  Sa- 
viour, and  yet  to  make  light  of  that  which 
nailed  him  to  the  cross  ;  to  say  with  some, 
that  he  has  abolished  the  law,  or,  with  oth- 
ers,  that  he  has  relaxed  its  power,  or  limit- 
ed its  extent,  or  mitigated  its  demands ;  to 
tell  us  that  he  has  placed  those  he  loves 
out  of  its  reach  ; — we  might  as  well  for- 
get, with  the  blind  man,  that  the  sun  which 
gives  us  warmth,  gives  us  with  it  light  ; 
Noah  might  as  well  have  denied  in  the  ark 
the  existence  of  a  deluge ;  the  trembling 
Arab  might  as  well  contend,  while  shelter- 
ed in  his  tent  from  the  whirlwind's  fury, 
that  no  breath  of  air  disturbs  the  desert. 
Mark  with  what  earnestness,  with  what  a 
shudder  of  abhorrence,  the  holy  Paul,  that 
great  champion  of  the  gospel,  disclaims  all 
such  notions.  "  Do  we  then,"  asks  he, 
"  make  void  the  law  through  faith  ?"  "  God 
forbid,"  he  answers  ;  "  yea,  we  establish  the 
law  ;"  "  we  confirm  its  authority,  its  extent, 
its  obligations,  its  equity,  its  benevolence, 
every  thing  but,  in  the  believer's  case,  its 
curse." 

II.  We  come  now  to  the  second  point  we 


proposed  to  consider — the    means  by  which 
the  j)roteclion  of  these  cities  was  ohlained. 

1.  The  manslayer  was,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, to  enter  one  of  them.  Till  he  had 
done  this,  they  were  to  him  of  no  service 
whatsoever.  Nay,  if  overtaken  in  his  way 
to  them,  actually  in  sight  of  them,  at  their 
very  gate,  he  perished ;  the  avenger  cut 
him  down. 

There  is  no  mistaking  the  spiritual  ap- 
plication of  this  circumstance.  It  is  not 
the  mere  hearing  of  the  way  of  salvation 
through  Christ,  nor  a  knowledge  and  admi- 
ration  of  it,  nor  any  sense,  however  deep, 
of  our  urgent  need  of  it;  it  is  not  any  one 
of  these  things,  nor  all  of  them  together, 
that  can  save  our  souls.  The  refuge  ex- 
hibited to  us  in  the  gospel,  must  be  enter- 
ed; the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus 
must  be  sought;  his  promises  must  be  em- 
braced ;  the  soul  must  actually  be  put  un- 
der the  protection  of  its  appointed  Saviour, 
before  the  soul  is  safe.  If  we  stop  short 
of  this,  no  matter  at  what  point,  we  stop 
short  of  deliverance.  And  it  is  a  mourn- 
ful  fact  that  the  great  mass  of  professing 
Christians  are  stopping  far  short  of  this. 
We  are  told  of  the  love  of  God,  we  hear 
of  the  salvation  provided  by  it  for  a  world 
of  sinners  ;  we  believe  perhaps  in  the  free- 
ness  of  this  salvation,  and  give  credit  to 
the  reports  that  are  brought  to  us  of  its 
glory  ;  and  here  many  of  us  rest.  There 
is  no  reacliing  forth  of  the  soul  towards  its 
Deliverer,  no  longing  desire  in  it  after  his 
mercy,  no  effort  made  to  place  the  guilty 
thing  in  his  hands.  The  great  w^ork  re- 
mains  undone.  The  sanctuary  is  thought 
of,  is  approached  perhaps,  but  never  enter- 
ed ;  "  the  hope  set  before  us"  is  looked  at, 
but  not  once  laid  hold  of.  With  all  our 
boasted  knowledge  of  Christ,  many  of  us 
are  as  far  from  any  real  and  spiritual  con- 
nection with  him,  as  the  very  heathen  who 
have  never  heard  of  his  name.  Brethren, 
be  assured  that  it  is  one  thing  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  the  gospel,  and  another  to 
embrace  it ;  one  thing  to  hear  it  sabbath 
after  sabbath  with  attention,  and  reverence, 
and  even  feeling,  and  another  to  be  saved 
by  it ;  one  thing  to  have  the  name  of  Christ 
in  our  cars  ancl  on  our  lips,  and  another  to 
have  Christ  himself  in  our  hearts,  "  the 
hope  of  glory." 

2.  But  it  was  not  enough  for  the  man- 
slayer  to  enter  the  city  of  refuge  ;  to  se- 
cure  his  permanent  safety,  we  are  told  in 


THK  CITIES  OF  REFUGE. 


225 


cliaptor  that  he  must  ahide  in  it.      With-    in  tlio  kingdom  of  his  Lon).     "As  ye  have 
ts  walls,  he  was  safe;  a    step  out  of  therefore  received  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord," 

says  Saint  Paul,  "so  walk  ye  in  him;" 
"  let  your  whole  life  he  one  continued  act 
of  receiving  him.  of  stretching  forth  the 
hand  to  lay  hold  of  and  embrace  him." — 
"  The  life  which  I  now  live  in  the  flesh," 
life  says  again.  "  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the 


(hi 
in 

thorn,  he  was  once  more  at  the  avenger  s 
mercy.  "  If  the  slayer  shall  at  any  time 
come  without  the  border  of  the  city  of  his 
refuge  whither  ho  was  fled,  and  the  re- 
venger of  blood  find  him  without  the  bor- 
ders of  the  city  of  his  refuge,  and  the  re- 
venger of  blood  kill  the  slayer,  he  shall  Son  of  God;"  "the  faith  which  was  at 
not  be  guilty  of  blood,  because  he  should  first  the  spring  of  my  relifjion,  is  now  its 
have  remained  in  the  city  of  his  refuge."  support;  it  is  as  needful  for  my  spiritual 
And  the  period  during  which  this  was  to  existence,  as  the  air  I  breathe  for  my  nat- 
ural life." 


last,  was  for  the  man's  whole  life,  unless, 
for  some  reason  with  which  we  are  not 
made  acquainted,  the  high  priest  should 
die  before  him,  in  which  case  he  might  re- 
turn without  danger  to  his  home. 

And  here  we  have  another  spiritual  les- 
son taught  us — the  sinner  who  would  be 
saved  by  Christ,  must  not  only  actually  ap- 
ply to  him  for  salvation,  but  must  abide 
as  a  suppliant  at  his  feet  to  his  dying  hour. 

This  is  not  one  of  the  first  lessons  we 
learn  in  our  Christian  life,  nor  one  which, 
at  any  time,  we  are  the  most  willing  to 
learn.  We  think  that  after  certain  great 
truths  have  been  received  into  our  under- 
standings, and  a  certain  process  has  been 
gone  through  in  our  hearts  ;  after  we  have 
been  once  thoroughly  convinced  of  our  sin- 
fulness, have  heartily  mourned  over  it, 
and  really  gone  to  the  blessed  Jesus  for 
the  cleansing  of  his  blood,  our  work  is 
done,  our  salvation  is  sure ;  we  conceive 
that  we  have  no  more  to  do  with  sorrow, 
or  repentance,  or  supplication  for  mercy, 
but  are  sustaining  a  character  or  placed  in 
a  situation,  which  renders  all  these  things 
needless  or  even  degrading.  But  what  a 
mistake  !  Give  what  name  we  may  to  the 
commencement  o/ real  religion  in  the  heart, 
whether  we  call  it  repentance,  or  conver- 
sion, or  faith,  it  is  but  a  commencement ;  it 
is  something  which  knows  no  end,  till  that 
religion  ends.  No  part  of  vital  godliness 
is  a  single  act  of  the  mind  ;  the  whole  thing 
is  a  habit ;  not  a  work  which  is  to  be  done 
or  gone  through  once  in  a  man's  life,  but 
something  w^hich  he  is  to  be  doing  or  expe- 
riencing all  his  life  long.  As  for  that  faith 
in  Christ  which  brings  us  to  his  cross,  and 
that  application  to  him  for  mercy  which 
makes  his  mercy  ours,  they  form  the  very 
substance  of  a  sinner's  religion.  On  this 
side  the  grave,  he  has,  he  can  have,  no  re- 
ligion without  them.  The  instant  they 
have  no  place  in  his  mind,  he  has  no  place 
29 


A  mere  entrance  into  the  city  of  refuge 
did  not  repeal  the  law  which  drove  the 
manslayer  thither ;  it  did  not  obliterate  his 
ofience  ;  it  did  not  disarm  the  avenger  :  he 
owed  his  safety  entirely  to  his  sanctuary. 
Whatever  his  character  or  circumstances 
might  become  while  dwelling  in  it,  to  what- 
ever height  of  virtue  or  of  honor  he  might 
rise,  he  knew  that  there  was  no  security 
for  him  out  of  it ;  he,  therefore,  clung  to 
it  and  valued  it,  as  he  valued  and  clung  tc 
life  itself.  And  so  the  pardoned  sinner 
cleaves  to  his  Saviour.  He  trusts  to  noth- 
ing that  has  been  done  for  him  or  wrought 
within  him  ;  he  places  no  confidencoi  in 
any  convictions  or  emotions  he  has  expe- 
rienced ;  he  relies  for  salvation  on  no  love 
or  mercy  that  his  wondering  soul  has  re- 
ceived. These  may  be,  they  are,  encour- 
agements to  his  faith,  but  he  does  not  sub- 
stitute them  for  faith  itself,  nor  thiit  faith 
for  Christ.  He  knows  that  he  is  as  much 
a  sinner,  as  in  the  moment  when  he  first 
cast  himself  on  his  Redeemer's  mercy;  he 
is  certain  that  the  law  is  as  holy  and  as  un- 
bending, as  when  he  fir.st  trembled  beneath 
its  sentence  ;  he  feels  that  out  of  Christ  he 
mu.st  as  surely  peri.sh,  as  there  is  a  righte- 
ous God  to  judge  or  a  fearful  hell  to  receive 
him.  The  consequence  is,  he  makes  Christ 
his  "  all  in  all."  Day  by  day  he  comes 
to  him  for  mercy,  night  after  night  he  im- 
plores his  protection,  year  after  year  the 
same  prayer  is  poured  forth  at  his  feet, 
"  Lord,  help  ;  Lord,  save  me."  No  words 
can  tell  how  fearful  he  is  of  separation 
from  him  ;  how  completely  ruined  and  lost 
he  feels  when  he  suspects  that  he  has  for- 
.saken  him.  It  is  the  one  great  business  of 
his  life,  the  object  in  comparison  with  which 
he  counts  every  other  unworthy  of  a  thought, 
to  "  win  Christ  and  be  found  in  him."  And 
Christ  himself  seems  to  share  in  his  holy 
anxiety.      He  urges  him  by  his  Spirit  to 


22G 


THE  CITIES  OF  REFUGE. 


"work  out  his  salvation  with  fear  and  trcm- 
oling ;"  he  "  persuades  him  to  continue  in 
the  grace  of  God  ;"  he  "  exhorts  him,  that 
witli  purpose  of  heart,  he  would  cleave  unto 
the  Lord  ;"  he  commands  him  to  "  abide  in 
him."  He  appeals  to  his  hopes.  "If  ye 
abide  in  me  and  my  words  abide  in  you,  ye 
shall  ask  what  ye  will,  and  it  shall  be  done 
unto  you."  He  calls  into  exercise  his 
fears.  He  warns,  he  threatens  him.  "If 
a  man  a^ide  not  in  me,  he  is  cast  forth  as  a 
branch,  and  is  withered;  and  men  gather 
ihem,  and  cast  them  into  the  fire,  and  they 
are  burned." 

And  here,  brethren,  we  must  stop  ;  but 
the  partial  view  we  have  taken  of  this  an- 
cient institution,  will  remind  us  of  the  care 
which  God  manifested  in  it  of  two  gracious 
objects. 

The  first  is  the  safely  of  the  transgressor 
who  seeks  his  safety  in  the  way  lohich  God 
has  prescribed. 

We  have  seen  that  as  soon  as  the  man- 
slayer  reached  the  appointed  town,  his  dan- 
ger was  over.  But  an  hour  before,  he  was 
not  sure  of  his  life  a  moment ;  he  trembled 
at  the  thought  of  his  pursuing  foe  ;  now  he 
might  stand  within  the  gates  as  free  from 
danger  and  as  fearless,  as  though  his  un- 
fortunate hand  had  never  injured  even  a 
hair  of  his  brother's  head.  There  was  not 
a  guiltless  infant  in  the  city  more  secure 
than  he  ;  nay,  not  a  man  in  all  the  land  so 
protected.  To  harm  him  would  have  been 
more  than  murder  ;  it  would  have  involved 
in  it  a  violation  of  his  sanctuary,  an  outrage 
on  the  strongest  feelings  and  one  of  the 
most  valued  privileges  of  his  nation ;  it 
would  have  been  sacrilege,  profaneness,  an 
aggravated  contempt  of  the  great  Lawgiver 
of  Israel.     His  life  was  sacred. 

And  equally  secure  is  the  happy  sinner 
who  flies,  penitent  and  humbled,  to  Christ 
for  refuge.     The  same  God  who  denounced 


him  for  his  transgr 


essions,  now  guaranties 


his  safety  ;  the  same  authority  that  once 
condemned,  now  protects  him.  And  the 
man  feels  his  security.  He  rests  and  exults 
in  his  hiding-place.  Tlie  divine  justice  no 
longer  dismays  him.  He  thinks  of  it  with 
awe,  but  without  terror.  He  adores  it. 
The  law  too  has  lost  its  power  to  alarm. 
As  its  thunders  roll  around  him,  he  says, 
with  a  trembling,  but  with  a  joyful  confi- 
dence, "  O  thou  enemy,  thy  destructions 
are  come  to  a  perpetual  end.  I  Juiow  tliat 
I  am  a  transgressor  :  I  feel  the  bitterness 


of  my  transgressions,  and  I  mourn  over 
their  shame  ;  but  the  Lord  is  my  refuge 
and  my  strength  ;  lie  is  become  my  salva- 
tion. There  is  no  condemnation  to  them 
that  are  in  Christ  Jesus.  The  curse  has 
been  endured,  the  Lawgiver  satisfied,  my 
acquittal  sealed.  No  one  can  break  m  to 
destroy  a  sinner  who  is  lodged  in  the  bosom 
of  Omnipotence,  and  my  almighty  Saviour 
will  never  cast  me  out  of  his  bosom  ;  for 
when  he  took  me  there,  he  promised  me 
safety.  He  told  me,  and  that  I  might  have 
strong  consolation,  he  confirmed  the  prom- 
ise with  an  oath,  mat  I  should  never  perish ; 
that  no  one  should  pluck  me  from  him  ; 
that  he  would  never  leave  nor  forsake  me  ; 
that  he  would  suflfer  the  heavens  and  the 
earth  to  pass  a^ay  into  ruin,  rather  than 
break  the  covenant  he  has  formed  with  my 
worthless  soul." 

Another  object  secured  in  the  appoint- 
ment of  these  refuges,  was  the  encouragement 
of  the  trcmhling  offender.  Every  thing  was 
done  for  him,  that  could  be  done  consistently 
with  the  sacredness  of  tne  divine  law.  The 
cities,  we  are  told,  were  so  situated,  that 
from  the  remotest  corner  of  the  land,  he 
might  I'each  one  of  them  in  a  few  hours. 
Great  care  was  taken  to  keep  the  roads  to 
them  open  and  good.  Where  there  hap- 
pened to  be  water,  bridges  were  ordered  to 
be  erected  ;  and  where  two  or  more  roads 
met,  that  appeared  likely  to  mislead  or  em- 
barrass the  fugitive,  posts  were  set  up,  point- 
ing out  to  him  the  course  he  should  go,  and 
bearing  the  word  "  Refuge,"  inscribed  on 
them.  Nothing  was  left  undone,  that  could 
facilitate  his  escape. 

And  what  more,  brethren,  could  be  done 
for  us,  than  a  merciful  God  has  already 
done  in  the  gospel  of  his  Son  ?  Could  he 
have  offered  us  salvation  on  easier  terms  ? 
Could  he  have  said  any  thing  more  gracious 
to  such  a  world  as  this,  than,  "  He  that 
believeth,"  "  he  that  calleth  only  on  the 
name  of  the  Lord,"  "shall  be  saved?" 
Could  he,  without  staining  his  own  honor, 
have  thrown  the  doors  of  his  kingdom  more 
widely  open,  than  they  stand  at  this  moment 
to  you  and  me  ? 

And  mark  further — the  fifteenth  verse  of 
this  chapter  tells  us  that  the  refuges  in 
Canaan  were  intended,  not  for  the  Israelite 
only,  but  for  the  heathen  "stranger  and  for 
the  sojourner  in  the  land,  that  every  one," 
whosoever  he  might  be,  •'  that  killed  any 
person  unawares,  might  flee  thitlier."    And 


THE  PROMISE  OF  UOl)  TO  ISRAEL  AT  SL\AI. 


221 


none  are  oxeludcd  from  the  salvation  of 
Christ,  but  tiiose  who  exclude  themselves. 
No  \on<r  continuance  in  crime,  no  lieinous- 
nessofifuilt,  no  tardiness  in  seeking  mercy, 
no  supposed  or  real  unlitncss  to  receive  it, 
need  stand  in  our  way.  It  is  as  free  as  the 
air  we  breathe.  The  invitations  wliich 
call  us  to  embrace  it,  are  as  irrespective 
of  moral  worth,  as  the  sun  that  shines  day 
by  day  on  this  vile  workl,  or  the  rain  that 
falls  down  alike  on  the  evil  and  the  good. 

And  even  yet  God  does  not  stop.  There 
is  a  Holy  Spirit  waiting  to  be  our  com- 
panion and  guide.  He  stands  ready  to  dis- 
cover to  us  ''  the  path  of  life  ;!"  to  lead  us 
in  ''the  way  everlasting;"  to  make  that 
way  so  plain,  that  while  the  wise  men  of 
the  world  arc  disputing  and  cavilling  about 
it.  perplexing  themselves  and  bewildering 
others,  talking  of  it  but  pever  even  behold- 
in<£  it,  "  the  wayfaring  men,  though  fools, 
shall  not  err  therein." 

Again  we  may  ask,  what  could  be  done 
more  to  carry  us  to  heaven?  What  more 
could  be  desired,  what  more  could  be  thought 
of?  Well  may  God  say  to  us,  that  he  is 
"not  willing  that  "any  should  perish,  but 
that  all  should  come  to  repentance."  Well 
may  he  declare  that  "  he  has  no  pleasure 
in  the  death  of  the  wicked."  He  may 
appeal  to  his  word — its  gracious  invitations, 
its  precious  promises,  its  urgent  entreaties, 
its  solemn  commands,  nay,  to  the  most 
awful  of  its  threatenings.  He  may  appeal 
to  his  works.  All  declare  the  freeness  of 
liis  mercy,  the  largeness  of  his  grace,  the 
tenderness  of  his  compassion.  All  proclaim 
to  a  wondering  universe,  that  throughout 
this  guilty  world,  whosoever  will,  may  be 
saved  ;  that  whosoever  perishes,  perishes 
tiirough  his  own  fault,  starves  in  the  midst 
of  plenty,  dies  on  the  very  threshold  of  the 
gate  of  life. 


SERMON    XLI. 

THE  PROMISE  OF  GOD  TO  THE  I.^RAEL- 
ITES  AT  SINAI. 

Exodus  xx.  24. 

In  all  places  where  I  record  mi/  name,  I  will 
come  vnto  tlice,  and  I  tcill  l/lcss  thee. 

Our  greatest  comforts  arc  generally  .sent 
us  in  our  darkest  hours.     They  come  when 


we  least  expect  tiiom — in  seasons  of  dis. 
quietude  ;  at  the  very  moment  when  we 
are  sinkiufj  undiM-  the  weight  of  present 
griefs,  or  fainting  at  the  prospect  of  impend- 
ing troubles. 

This  chapter  shows  us  the  Israelites  as- 
sembled at  the  foot  of  Sinai  in  the  wilder- 
ness. The  tremendous  scene  of  ma<inifi- 
cence  which  they  witnessed  there,  ajipalled 
their  very  souls.  From  a  mountain  bhi/.ing 
with  liijhtnings  and  shakin_<r  with  thuuder- 
ings,  they  heard  pronounced  by  tne  lips  of 
Jehovah  himself,  a  law  for  their  tribes  ;  a 
law  which  was  indeed  in  itself  "holy,  and 
just,  and  good,"  the  law  and  the  delijiht  of 
heaven,  but  a  law  which  branded  this  rebel- 
lious people  as  guilty,  and  which  conse-' 
quently  they  felt  to  be  a  sentence  of  con- 
demnation and  a  "  ministration  of  death." 
Wondering  and  terrified,  they  entreated 
that  the  voice  which  proclaimed  it,  might 
be  heard  no  more.  But  amidst  the  fears 
within  them,  and  the  "  blackness,  and  dark- 
ness, and  tempest,"  that  surrounded  them, 
the  very  voice  they  would  have  silenced, 
tells  them  of  a  sacrifice  for  sin,  and  then 
declares  in  their  ears  this  gracious  promise, 
making,  perhaps  the  very  declaration  of  it 
at  this  moment  a  partial  confirmation  of  its 
truth,  "  In  all  places  where  I  record  my 
name,  I  will  come  unto  thee,  and  I  will 
bless  thee." 

Let  our  first  subject  of  inquiry  be  the 
places  referred  to  here  ;  our  second,  the 
mercies  we  are  warranted  to  expect  in 
them. 

I.  The  promise  is  evidently  of  universal 
application.  Its  language  implies  or  rather 
asserts  this.  It  speaks  of  "  all  places," 
and  consequently  it  takes  in  or  may  take 
in  the  whole  world,  and  every  spot  in  the 
world.  It  refers  to  this  parish,  as  well  as 
to  the  wilderness  or  Canaan  ;  it  belontis  as 
much  to  this  congregation,  as  to  that  as- 
semblcd  at  Sinai.  No  matter  where,  in 
divinely  taught  Judea,  or  in  Christian  Eng- 
laiul,  or  in  heathen  India ;  amidst  the 
sands  of  Africa,  or  the  snows  of  Greenland  j 
in  the  dark  places  of  earth  or  the  bright 
places  of  jieaven  ;  "  In  all  places,"  says 
God,  "  where  I  record  my  name,  I  will 
come  and  bless." 

Where  then  can  this  glorious  name  be 
found  ?  To  answer  this  question,  we  must 
first  ascertain  what  tlie  Lord  Jehovah  in- 
tends us  to  understand  by  his  rccordiuir  it. 

With  us  names  mean  little  or  nothing. 


228 


THE  PROMISE  OF  GOD  TO  ISRAEL  AT  SINAI. 


They  are,  for  the  greater  part,  names  and 
nothing  more,  answering  the  purpose  of  dis- 
tinguishing one  person  or  place  from  an- 
other, but  beyond  this,  conveying  no  idea. 
In  the  early  ages  of  society,  however,  the 
case  was  different.  Names  were  signifi- 
cant ;  they  were  more  or  less  descriptive 
of  the  individuals  to  whom  they  were  ap- 
plied. Thus  we  find  the  dying  Rachel 
calling  the  babe  whose  birth  cost  her  her 
life,  Benoni,  the  son  of  her  sorrow  ;  while 
his  father,  who  looked  on  him  as  the  future 
prop  of  his  old  age,  called  him  Benjamin, 
the  son  of  his  right  hand.  And  why  was 
our  blessed  Lord  called  Jesus  ?  Because 
the  word  signifies  a  Saviour,  and  he  came 
down  from  the  heavens  to  seek  and  save 
the  lost. 

It  is  easy  then  to  discover  what  we  are 
to  understand  by  the  name  of  the  Lord. 
His  name  is  used  in  this  passage  for  his 
character,  his  excellences,  his  perfections. 
It  comprehends  his  eternal  self-existence, 
his  uncontrollable  sovereignty,  his  bound- 
less power,  his  wonderful  holiness,  his  fath- 
omless wisdom,  his  unshaken  truth,  and, 
above  all,  his  matchless,  everlasting  love. 
"  I  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory,"  said 
Moses  to  him.  The  Lord  granted  his 
prayer,  and  this  was  the  manner  in  which 
he  answered  it,  "he  proclaimed  the  name 
of  the  Lord."  "  "  The  Lord  passed  by  be- 
fore him,  and  proclaimed,  The  Lord,  the 
Lord  God,  merciful  and  gracious,  long-suf- 
fering, and  abundant  in  goodness  and  truth, 
keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  forgiving  ini- 
quity, and  transgression,  and  sin." 

To  "  record"  a  name  is  first  to  proclaim 
or  write  it,  and  then  to  cause  that  writing 
to  be  preserved,  or  that  proclamation  to  be 
remembered.  The  Lord  therefore  records 
his  name  in  a  place,  when  he  declares  his 
perfections  and  makes  himself  known  there ; 
when  he  tells  us  what  he  is  ;  unfolds  to  us 
his  character  ;  displays  something  of  his 
holiness,  and  majesty,  and  grace ;  and 
keeps  up  this  display  ;  not  flashing  it  for  a 
moment  before  us,  like  a  meteor  in  the  air, 
but  fixing  it  bright  and  glorious  in  our 
sight,  like  the  sun  in  the  heavens.  Hence 
he  speal<s  not  only  of  '•  putting  his  name," 
but  "  causing  it  to  dwell,  in  the  place  that 
he  shall  choose." 

Now  comes  the  question.  Where  has  the 
Holy  One  of  Israel  thus  revealed  himself? 
Where  has  he  thus  recorded  his  great 
Dame  ?      Where,  bretjiren,  has  he  not  re- 


corded it  ?  It  is  engraven  on  the  face  of 
universal  nature.  It  shines  in  the  sun,  it 
glitters  in  the  stars ;  the  seas,  and  the 
mountains,  and  the  woods,  all  bear  its  im- 
press ;  it  may  be  read  on  every  blade  of 
grass.  If  we  go  up  into  heaven,  it  is  resplen- 
dent  there  in  the  glories  and  joys  of  that 
world  of  wonders  ;  and  if  we  go  down  into 
hell,  the  darkness  cannot  conceal,  it  dis- 
plays rather  than  hides  it. 

But  to  none  of  these  manifestations  of 
himself,  does  the  Lord  refer  us  in  this  text. 
He  alludes  mainly  to  one  peculiar  mode  of 
exhibiting  his  character,  and  that  a  plainer 
and  more  comprehensive  development  of 
it,  than  all  his  other  works  combined  could 
affcird.  Look  at  the  promise.  It  stands 
connected  with  a  passage  that  speaks  of 
blood,  and  of  blood  shed  as  an  expiation  for 
sin.  "  An  altar  of  earth  thou  shalt  make 
unto  me,  and  shalt  sacrifice  thereon  thy 
burnt-offerings  and  thy  peace-offerings,  thy 
sheep  and  thine  oxen  ;"  and  then  it  is  ad- 
ded, "  In  all  places  where  I  record  my 
name,  I  will  come  unto  thee."  Here  there- 
fore we  obtain  at  last  a  distinct  answer  to 
our  question.  The  name  of  the  Lord  is 
recorded  wherever  that  great  sacrifice  for 
sin,  which  these  offerings  prefigured,  is 
made  known  ;  and  such  a  revelation  of  Je- 
hovah himself  is  kept  up,  as  harmonizes 
with  this  sacrifice.  The  cross  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  is,  in  fact,  the  one  great  mani- 
festation of  a  hidden  God.  In  that  scene 
of  degradation  and  mystery,  the  last  scene 
in  which  men  would  have  looked  for  him, 
it  pleased  him  to  lay  bare  his  greatness. 
He  unveiled  in  it  the  treasures  of  his  wis- 
dom, holiness,  and  goodness  ;  and  bade  an 
astonished  world  behold  their  extent  and 
adore  their  glory.  They  had  mdeed  been 
revealed  before  :  men  had  seen  something 
of  them,  and  the  hosts  of  heaven  had  for 
ages  admired  them  ;  but  they  burst  fortli 
on  the  cross  with  a  radiance  that  dazzled 
the  angels  as  they  gazed  on  it,  and  excited 
among  them  a  wonder  which  has  never  yet 
ceased.  Accustomed  since  the  time  of 
their  creation  to  all  the  magnificence  of 
their  heavenly  dwelling  place,  and  familiar 
with  all  the  scenes  of  splendor  it  contains, 
they  yet  desire  to  look  into  this  exhibition 
of  the  Godhead,  and  see  in  it  a  vastness 
which  they  can  never  measure,  a  fulness 
they  can  never  grasp.  As  for  man,  he  can 
pour  contempt  on  any  thing  ;  but  no  sooner 
are  the  eyes  of  liis  understanding  enlight- 


THE  PROMISE  OF  GOD  TO  ISRAEL  AT  SINAI. 


229 


ened,  than  in  the  cross  of  the  Lord  Jesus  i 
Christ,  he  beholds  liis  God.  It  becomes  ati 
once  the  ol)ject  of  his  study,  the  ground  of 
his  hope,  the  theme  of  his  praise.  No  hin- 
guage  can  describe  his  feelings  as  he  con- 
templates it ;  >liey  are  feelings  of  unuttera- 
ble admiration  and  more  tlian  earthly  de- 
light ;  feelings  that  will  go  with  him  uito 
heaven,  and  can  only  be  expressed  in  its 
songs. 

The  whole  tenure  of  scripture  confirms 
this  view  of  the  text.  It  represents  the 
blessed  Jesus  in  his  human  nature,  as  an 
embodying  of  the  divine  perfections,  "  the 
image  of  the  invisible  God."  "  God," 
says  Saint  Paul,  "  was  manifest  in  the 
flesh."  "  We  preach  Christ  crucified,"  he 
says ;  and  why  ?  Because  Christ  cruci- 
fied, he  tells  us,  is  "  the  power  of  God  and 
the  wisdom  of  God."  "  We  preach  not 
ourselves,"  he  says  again,  "  but  Christ 
Jesus  the  Lord  ;"  and  if  we  ask  the  second 
time  why  he  must  be  the  one  unceasing 
subject  of  his  discourse,  he  gives  us  the 
second  time  the  same  answer ;  "  God  who 
commanded  the  light  to  shine  out  of  dark- 
ness, hath  shined  in  our  hearts,  to  give  the 
light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God 
in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ."  "  Lord,  show 
us  the  Father,"  cried  Philip.  Jesus  said 
unto  him,  "  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with 
you,  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known  me  ? 
He  that  hath  seen  me,  hath  seen  the 
Father." 

We  may  now  turn  to  ourselves.  If  the 
incarnate,  sulFering,  and  crucified  Son  of 
God  is  faithfully  preached  within  these 
walls  ;*  if  the  gospel  which  testifies  of  him, 
instead  of  being  forgotten,  or  corrupted,  or 
half-explained  away,  is  brought  to  you  in 
its  simplicity  as  a  message  from  tlie  skies  ; 
if  man  is  described  here  as  guilty,  and  con- 
demned, and  perishing,  and  the  cross  held 
out  before  him  as  his  only  refuge  ;  then 
here  has  the  Lord  Jehovah  recorded  his 
name  ;  here  is  one  of  those  very  places  of 
which  this  scripture  speaks  ;  nay,  here  is 
a  place  which  the  Gnd  of  Israel  had  spe- 
cially in  his  mind  when  lie  uttered  these 
words  ;  amidst  the  terrors  of  Sinai,  his  eye 
was  on  it,  as  really  and  intently  as  it  is  on 
It  now  ;  he  marked  it  for  a  blessing.  He 
looked  too  through  distant  ages  on  you  ;  he 
saw  you  amidst  your  oppressions,  and  fears, 
and  sorrows ;   and   you   were  the   people 

*  This  sermon  was  preached  shortly  after  the  con- 
secration of  the  chapel  in  which  it  was  delivered. 


whom  he  intended  his  voice  to  reach,  whom 
he  purposed  to  cheer  and  gladden,  when 
he  proclaimed  in  the  wilderness,  "  I  will 
come  unto  thee,  and  I  will  bless  thee." 
II.  Let  us  go  on  to  consider  his  pronme. 

1.  It  encourages  us  to  expect  in  this 
house  of  prayer  the  presence  of  God  with  tis. 
"  I  will  come  unto  thee."  And  what  more 
can  we  desire  ?  The  presence  of  an  earthly 
friend,  the  mere  sight  of  a  fellow  \\orm  who 
loves  us,  is  refreshing  to  the  heart ;  but  the 
presence  of  God — O  who  can  describe  its 
power  or  its  blessedness  ?  It  is  rest  to  the 
soul  ;  a  something  which  not  only  quiets, 
and  strengthens,  and  raises  it,  but  leaves  it 
nothing  to  wish  for  ;  and  no  wonder — it  is 
a  foretaste  of  heaven,  of  a  satisfying  heaven ; 
it  is  the  "  fulness  of  joy  ;"  no  cistern  of 
happiness,  which  a  few  moments  or  hours 
of  cnjovment  can  empty,  but  a  fountain  of 
life,  a  spring  that  eternity  cannot  dry  up, 
nor  a  universe  exhaust.  How  often,  breth- 
ren, has  it  turned  our  heaviness  into  glad- 
ness, our  prayers  into  praises,  our  weeping 
into  songs  !  It  would  turn  a  wilderness 
into  a  paradise  ;  and  what  would  it  make 
this  place  of  prayer  ?  "  None  other  but 
the  house  of  God  and  the  gate  of  heaven." 

But,  it  may  be  asked,  what  do  we  mean 
by  all  this  ?  Is  not  God  everywhere  pre- 
sent 1  and  everywhere  equally  present  ? 
present  in  all  the  universe  in  all  the  ful- 
ness of  his  essence  ?  He  is  ;  he  must  be. 
There  is  no  confining  or  limiting  of  him. 
"  The  heaven  is"  his  "  throne,  and  the 
earth  is"  his  "  footstool."  He  inhabits 
eternity,  and  he  fills  "  the  wide  wastes  of 
time."  All  nature  is  his  temple,  and  all 
space  his  abode.  W^hen  therefore  he  says, 
"  I  will  come  unto  thee,"  we  must  under- 
stand him  to  mean  that  he  will  make  his 
presence  known  to  us  ;  not  only  be  with 
us,  but  let  us  see  him  to  be  with  us ;  dis- 
cover himself  to  us  ;  put  this  feeling  into 
our  hearts,  and  almost  force  it  out  of  our 
lips,  "  The  Lord  is  in  this  place.  We 
have  seen  his  glory."  And  how  will  he 
do  this  ?  He  will  bring  that  to  pass  which 
no  mortal  power  can  accomplish  ;  he  will 
lay  bare  his  arm  of  mercy,  he  will  discover 
himself  by  the  operations  of  his  grace. 
Thus  he  explains  his  own  meaning  ;  "  I 
will  come  unto  thee,  and  I  will  bless  thee  ;" 
".so  bless  thee,  that  my  presence  shall  be 
known  bv  the  happiness  I  communicate, 
and  the  mercies  I  bestow." 

2.  We  are  warranted   then  to  look  for 


230 


THE  PROMISE  OF  GOD  TO  ISRAEL  AT  SINAT. 


hiessings  from  heaven  in  this  place,  and 
these  i-eafblessings,  great  blessings,  mercies 
which  God  himself  esteems  blessings. 

But  here  we  must  remember  that  any 
thing,  in  order  to  be  a  blessing,  must  be 
adapted  to  the  situation  and  condition  of 
those  to  whofti  it  is  given.  That  which  is 
a  solid  good  to  one,  bestowed  on  another, 
might  become  an  evil  and  a  curse.  Hence 
when  the  Lord  Jehovah  says,  "  I  will  bless 
thee,"  before  we  can  understand  his  words, 
we  must  have  some  acquaintance  with  the 
character  and  circumstances  of  those  to 
whom  they  are  addressed.  If  spoken  to 
at)  angel  or  a  redeemed  saint  in  heaven, 
they  may  mean  one  thing ;  addressed  to 
this  sinner  on  the  earth,  another  thing  ; 
and  sent  home  to  the  heart  of  that  poor 
child  of  the  dust,  yet  something  different. 
We  must  look  to  ourselves  then.  We 
must  ask  where  we  are  standing  and 
whither  we  are  going ;  where  we  are  and 
what  we  are.  And  to  what  a.  multitude  of 
thoughts  do  such  questions  as  these  give 
rise  !  What  wants,  and  burdens,  and  sins, 
and  fears,  do  they  bring  before  us  !  "  Who 
am  I  ?  A  creature  finding  myself  in  a 
world  where  nothing  can  satisfy  me;  so 
loving  its  dust,  that  I  cannot  disengage  my 
heart  from  it,  but  yet  restless,  craving, 
angry  ;  at  times,  almost  ready  to  curse  the 
world  I  love,  for  mocking  me.  I  am 
troubled  too  ;  so  situated,  that  I  cannot  get 
away  from  affliction ;  and  so  weak,  that  I 
cannot  stand  against  it;  and  so  self-willed, 
that  I  know  not  how  to  bend  down  to  it. 
Within  too  all  is  wrong.  I  am  the  slave 
of  feelings  I  abhor,  and  of  habits  which, 
my  reason  tells  me,  I  ought  to  detest. 
Whither  am  I  going  ?  I  am  going  to  the 
grave,  and  that  is  almost  all  I  know  ; 
darkness  lies  beyond.  The  Bible  tells  me 
I  am  a  sinner,  and  I  am  sure  that  the  testi- 
mony is  true,  for  my  conscience  tells  me 
the  same.  I  shall  soon  die,  and  I  would 
go  to  some  world  of  happiness,  to  heaven, 
when  I  die  ;  but  heaven  is  holy,  and  God 
is  holy ;  and  how  can  my  unclean  soul 
live  there  or  get  there  ?  No  ;  I  am  sinful, 
and,  because  I  am  sinful,  I  am  lost,  un- 
done." 

Is  this  your  language,  brethren  ?  Then 
the  Lord  is  already  come  to  you ;  is  already 
beginning  to  bless  you.  The  first  mercy 
he  communicates  where  he  records  his 
name,  is  a  disclosure  to  us  of  the  mournful 
secret  of  our  own  guilt  and  wretchedness. 


He  begins  his  work  of  blessing  by  stripping 
the  w^orld  of  its  mask,  and  the  mind  of  its 
folly  and  delusion  ;  by  disquieting,  and 
emptying,  and  humbling,  the  soul.  And 
throughout  our  whole  life,  it  is  in  his  house 
as  it  is  in  his  providence,  he  often  blesses 
us  the  most  when  he  pains  us  the  most. 

But  he  does  not  end  with  uncovering 
our  misery  ;  he  lays  open  himself  to  us  as 
an  all-sufficient  remedy  for  every  ill,  a  near 
and  boundless  supply  for  every  want. 
And  he  does  this  by  putting  forth  the  energy 
of  his  Spirit,  and  making  the  exhibition  of 
his  own  perfections  in  the  person  of  his 
Son,  the  means  of  enlightening,  sanctifying, 
comforting,  and  saving  us.  He  blesses 
where  he  records  his  name,  by  the  very 
act  of  recording,  it.  We  find  in  Christ 
Jesus  the  God  that  we  need  ;  one  so  merci- 
ful, that  he  can  blot  out  in  a  moment  the 
iniquities  of  a  life ;  so  powerful  that  he 
can  subdue  the  most  fondly  cherished 
corruptions  of  the  most  polluted  heart ;  so 
wise  in  his  counsels,  that  he  can  glorify 
his  justice  while  he  raises  the  guilty  to  his 
favor ;  so  rich  in.,  his  goodness,  that  the 
vilest  sinner  that  breathes,  is  welcome  at 
his  feet,  and  may  take,  freely  as  any  angel 
in  heaven,  the  treasures  of  his  everlasting 
love  ;  yea,  he  may  take  him  and  all  his 
infinite  perfections  for  his  own,  and  "  be 
filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God." 

And  now  let  us.  ask,  What  says  this 
scripture  to  us  ?  It  suggests  to  us  at  once 
this  reflection — Ho70  much  more  ought  toe  to 
expect  in  this  Iwuse  of  prayer,  than  any  oj- 
US  perhaps  have  ever  thought  of  expecting 
in  it ! 

"  I  will  come  unto  thee,  and  I  will  bless 
thee,"  said  a  faithful  God  on  Sinai.  And 
did  the  words  as  they  died  on  his  lips,  pass 
away  from  his  remembrance  ?  No;  his 
church  in  the  wilderness  beheld  and  owned 
his  presence.  He  shone  forth  between  the 
cherubim  ;  he  met  liis  people  in  his  taber- 
nacle,  and  "  made  them  joyful  in  his  house 
of  prayer."  And  when  a  temple  was 
built  at  Jerusalem  for  his  rest,  he  dwelt 
visibly  in  it.  "  The  glory  of  the  Lord 
filled  the  house  of  the  Lord  ;"  and  this 
was  his  promise  concerning  it,  "  I  have 
chosen  this  place  to  myself  for  an  house  of 
sacrifice.  Now  mine  eyes  shall  be  open, 
and  mine  ears  attend  unto  the  prayer  that 
is  made  in  this  place.  Mine  eyes  and 
mine  heart  shall  be  there  perpetually." 
And  when  he  left  the  heaven  of  his  glory, 


THE  TROMISE  OF  GOD  TO  ISRAEL  AT  SINAI. 


231 


and  came  down  "  a  man  of  sorrows"  to  the 
earth,  was  Sinai  forgotten  amidst  his  labors 
and  griefs  ?  A  thousand  years  had  not 
erased  from  liis  memory  one  word  of  the 
promise  he  had  uttered  tlicre.  He  remem- 
be->rs  it ;  he  takes  it  up  as  his  own ;  he 
confirms  and  extends  it.  "  In  all  places," 
was  his  language  on  the  mountain  ; 
'•'  Wheresoever  any  are  gathered  together," 
is  his  language  now.  "  I  will  come  unto 
thee,"  said  he  to  the  hosts  of  Israel ;  he 
says  to  us,  "  Where  only  two  or  three  are 
met  together,  I  am."  "  I  will  conie," 
was  his  promise  in  the  wilderness  ;  but 
this  is  his  declaration  in  his  church,  '^I 
am  come  ;  there  am  I  in  the  midst ;"  his 
presence  is  no  longer  a  mercy  to  be  hoped 
for,  it  is  a  blessing  to  be  enjoyed.  But  all 
this,  it  may  be  said,  was  addressed  to  his 
chosen  disciples  ;  and  was  intended  only 
for  the  early  ages  of  his  church.  He 
foresaw  the  objection.  Hear  him  again  ; 
"  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway>  even  unto  the 
end  of  the  world." 

What  then  is  this  house  of  prayer  ?  It 
is  a  place  where  we  are  to  meet  our  God. 
We  see  him  not,  perhaps  we  think  not  of 
his  presence  ;  but  if  only  two  or  three  of 
us  are  seeking  our  happiness  in  nim,  he  is 
here,  and  here  to  bless  us.  His  own  faith- 
ful lips  have  told  us  so.  May  his  Spirit 
grant  that  our  own  experience  may  often 
tell  us  the  same  ! 

We  are  living  in  a  dreary  world,  breth- 
ren, and  many  a  burden  shall  we  have  to 
bear  in  our  passage  through  it,  many  a  bit- 
ter tear  to  shed,  and  many  a  conflict  to 
sustain  ;  but  this  is  the  house  of  God,  and 
wc  arc  as  much  warranted  to  expect  conso- 
lation and  strength  in  it,  as  health  from  our 
food  or  warmth  from  the  sun.  It  is  opened 
to  us  as  a  sanctuary  from  our  cares  and  a 
refuge  from  our  sorrows.  We  need  noth- 
ing more  in  order  to  find-  it  both,  than  a 
spirit  in  unison  with  its  design  ;  a  seeking, 
expecting,  thirsting  heart.  We  have  only 
to  say  with  ^avid, ."  My  soul  panteth  for 
God  ;  my  heart  and  my  flesh  crieth  out  for 
tiie  living  God ;"  then  shall  we  say  also 
with  him,  and  say  it  with  joyful  lips, 
"  How  amiable  are  thy  tabernacles,  O  Lord 
of  hosts  !  Blessed  are  tliey  that  dwell  in 
thy  house  ;  they  will  be  still  praising  thee." 
And  here  arises  another  reflection.  Do 
we  really  wish  for  these  blessings  ?  Do 
we  desire  to  hold  communion  witli  heaven 
within   these  walls  ?      Then   how  earnest 


ou^Jil  our  suppUcations  to  he,  that  the  Lord 
Jehovah  would  continue  to  record  here  his 
great  name  ! 

All  depends  on  tliis.  His  blessing  comes, 
onl)'^  where  the  gospel  that  reveals  him, 
comes.  And  by  the  gospel  I  mean,  not  a 
cold,  comfortless  Ciiristianity,  but  those 
"  good  tidings  of  great  joy,"  wiiich  consti- 
tute God's  highest  glory,  earth's  only  hope, 
and  heaven's  loudest  praise  ;  the  tidings  of 
salvation,  a  free,  complete,  gl<irious  salva- 
tion ;  not  waiting  to  be  wrought  out  by  our 
feeble  arm,  but  acconipli.<hLd  already  by 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  ;  the  purchase  of  his 
blood,  the  reward  of  his  suftcrings,  the  gift 
of  his  grace.  Without  this,  of  what  avail 
to  you  or  your  children  will  this  fabric  be  '? 
I  will  nc)t  say,  "  Better  had  it  never  been 
raised  j"  for  the  Bible  will  be  read  here, 
and  prayers  brcatliing  the  spirit  of  the  Bi- 
ble will  be  Jieard  here  ;  and  who  will  dare 
to  say  that  Got)  is  absent  ?  But  still  with- 
out  a  faithful  steward  of  his  mysteries,  and 
a  plain  setting-forth  of  the  great  sacrifice, 
in  any  place," be  that  place  where  it  may, 
we  have  no  authority  for  saying  that  the 
name  of  the  Lord  will  be  known  in  it ;  we 
have  no  experience  to  warrant  the  hope 
tliat  he  will  come  there,  or  that  a  single 
spiritual  blessing  will  be  found.  Bethel 
was  his  house  ;  gloriously  had  he  displayed 
in  that  favored  spot  his  love  and  goodness ; 
but  when  the  calves  of  Jeroboam  were  set 
up  at  Betiicl,  what  did  it  become  ?  A  Beth- 
aven,  a  house  of  iniquity ;  and  the  ven- 
geance of  heaven  was  on  it.  God  abnorred 
his  own  temple  also,  when  his  name  ceased 
to  be  honored  in  it.  "  Let  us  depart," 
sounded  through  its  courts,  and  the  plough 
of  tlic  Ron-.an  conqueror  went  over  it.  And 
what  stands  now  on  its  site  ?  The  mosque 
of  a  base  impostor..  And  what  are  Corinth, 
and  Ephesus,  and  Rome,  and  other  places 
once  honored  by  the  presence  and  the  bless- 
ings of  Christ?  Scenes  of  spiritual  deso- 
lation and  death.  And  what,  a  hundred 
years  ago,  was  our  own  land  ?  We  liad 
our  Bibles  and  Prayer-books,  the  same  Bi- 
bles that  instruct  and  the  same  Prayer- 
books  tliat  guide  us  now,  but  the  great 
doctrines  of  the  cross,  if  not  denied,  were 
passed  ovpr  in  many  of  our  pulpits  ;  they 
were  buried,  and  all  the  power  of  religion 
seemed  buried  with  them.  Ciiristianity  be- 
came a  name,  I  might  say,  well-nigh  a 
corpse  among  us.  And  such  it  will  be- 
come again,  if  the  cross  of  the  Lord  Jesus 


THE  PROMISE  OF  GOD  TO  ISRAEL  AT  SINAI. 


Christ  is  again  forgotten.  No  matter  what 
is  substituted  in  its  stead ;  it  may  be  spe- 
cious and  attractive  ;  but  it  is  not  the  gos- 
pel which  the  apostles  preached,  it  is  not 
the  gospel  for  which  the  martyrs  bled,  it  is 
not  the  gospel  which  has  filled  heaven  with 
praise,  it  is  not  the  gospel  wliich  will  save 
your  souls ;  it  is  what  is  called  in  the  verse 
following  the  text,  "  the  lifting  up  of  the 
tool  of  man  upon  the  altar  of  God;"  and 
the  pollution  will  drive  the  name,  and  the 
presence,  and  the  mercies,  of  God  far  away 
from  us. 

Prayer,  brethren,  fervent,  unceasing 
prayer — let  that  sanctify  this  building  ;  let 
that  make  and  keep  it  a  house  of  praise. 
We  have  dedicated  it  to  the  once-crucified 
but  now  exalted  Jesus.  He  is  Lord  of  this 
house.  In  it,  blessed  be  God  !  his  name 
has  been  recorded.  The  first  sermon  ever 
heard  in  it,  testified  of  him.  O  that  the 
last  sermon  that  will  ever  echo  within  its 
walls,  may  be  full  of  the  savor  of  his  bless- 
ed name  ! 

And  may  1  not  add  one  word  more  ?  If 
so  much  depends  on  the  preaching  of  the 
cross,  Jiov)  constant  ought  your  jjrayers  to  be 
for  those  who  preach  it  f 

God  employs  not  angels,  but  men,  in  re- 
cording his  name,  and  men  involved  in  the 
same  ruin,  the  same  ignorance,  as  their 
fellow-sinners ;  men  subject  to  the  same 
temptations,  carrying  about  the  same  bur- 
dens, laboring  under  the  same  infirmities, 
aching  with  the  same  sorrows.  Through 
channels  like  these,  will  his  glorious  gos- 
pel come  to  you.  And  yet  on  the  faithful 
exhibition  of  it,  depends  much  of  its  power 
and  much  of  your  blessedness  ;  the  peace 


perhaps  of  your  own  care-worn  souls,  the 
safety,  the  everlasting  welfare,  of  your 
children.  Shall  I  after  this  say,  "  Breth- 
ren, pray  for  us  ?"  Cold  indeed  must  be 
that  heart  which  does  not  both  pray  and 
feel  for  the  minister  of  Christ.  And  if  there 
is  one  minister  of  Christ,  who  especially 
needs  your  prayers,  it  is  he  who  now  sup- 
plicates them.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  1 
shall  be  with  you  in  weakness,  in  much 
weakness  ;  but  I  heed  not  that.  A  mighty 
God  can  work  here,  as  he  works  in  a  thou- 
sand other  places,  without  the  aid  of  human 
strength.  My  Bible  tells  me  that  he  can 
take  hold  of  a  worm,  and  enable  it  to 
"  thresh  the  mountains,  and  beat  them 
small,  and  make  the  hills  as  chaff."  I 
need,  brethren,  what  you  need,  a  lieart  to 
take  my  weakness  to  my  God,  and  seek 
my  strength  in  him.  Of  you  I  ask,  beyond 
your  prayers,  your  kind  indulgence  ;  and 
I  know  that  I  shall  have  it.  Make  me 
not  an  offender  for  a  word,  no,  nor  yet 
for  macy  words.  Bear  with  me  if  I  grieve, 
forgive  me  if  I  pain  you.  Yet  a  Httle 
while,  and  the  voices  of  other  ministers 
will  bo  heard  among  you  ;  and  then  a  lit- 
tle longer,  and  you  yourselves  will  hear  no 
minister  at  all.  Of  those  who  perhaps 
most  wished  to  worship  with  us  in  this 
building,  some  are  gone  into  eternity  since 
its  foundations  were  laid,  and  we  ourselves 
shall  soon  be  there,  you,  and  I,  and  our 
children.  We  shall  meet  there.  What 
will  that  meeting  be  ?  Thou  God  of  mer- 
cy, make  it  a  meeting  in  thine  own  blissful 
presence,  the  exchange  of  this  house  of 
prayer  for  thine  own  everlasting  house  of 
joy  and  praise. 


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